It had been six months. The startling realisation hit me in the morning with the alarm of one who has suddenly remembered a missed birthday or anniversary. I quickly picked up my phone, hoping that someone may have left a text - an offer of a date, drinks, coffee, a small sandwich. Nothing. Even though I was socially active the signs were ominous. My mouth was dry; I was parched. I felt an intense heat prickle my skin. Were those the first traces of sweat on my forehead? It was at this point that I realised I was in the desert.
The next few days passed in a sun blind daze. I started to approach each situation as an opportunity to meet women. Tubes, business meetings, sandwich shops, newsagents. All these places where no longer parts of everyday life but oasis where the potential to smile and offer a gentlemanly hello were significantly increased.
Gone was any rational thought. Age, weight, disability, any incompatibility that would initially check a male into apprehension and further consideration was replaced with a disturbing sense of reasoning. If a woman appeared whose age would place her traditionally out of my target group (but safely into the realm of most bingo halls) I would substitute the unsuitability of age for the advantage of what could only be described as heightened sexual experience and a generosity with sweets and other small treats.
I was alarmed at my readiness to exchange standards and even my slim notion of ethics for eleven digits and the possibility of romance (it should be stated that romance and sexual relations are easily confused, as is seen in the previous sentence, the readers’ discretion should be used whenever this term appears).