The last few weeks have seen a pattern developing. Marco, Gino, Arno, Mario, Vincenzo even Lolo.
Yep, it seems I'm only dating men whose names end with an 'o'. Even to me this seems like an odd pattern to have developed.
I can understand how I could end up with a string of men who all have something in common....love disco, go to the gym, speak to their mothers every day u.s.w. But this name thing is totally random and a bit of a worry.
Of all these guys, Marco is the one I liked the least. To say I didn't like him is an understatement. He was handsome enough, had all the moves and bought me a drink. But he talked non-stop about his 'troubles'. His ex who wouldn't leave him alone. His over-dependant mother. His boring, dull job. By the end of the evening I wanted to open a vein - mine or his, either would have done.
But of course, he got my number. I gave it to him earlier in the evening so that we could coordinate our arrival at the bar.
So, yesterday afternoon I got a phonecall.
"Hi, is that TBNIL?" he said.
"It is". said I, suspicious of the 'unknown number' on the screen of my phone.
"Hi, it's Marco! Am I disturbing you?" said the caller.
"Look," said I, huffily "I'm at work. You can't just call me during the day you know. I'm busy."
"Ok....." said Marco. "It's just that I wanted to confirm that I'll be coming to the interview tomorrow morning. Do I need to bring anything in particular?"
Damn me. I'd forgotten that I was interviewing someone for one of my colleagues today, and that his name was indeed Marco.
I did the best volte-face that I could, and (in my mind) saved the situation by being apologetic and over-friendly. Goodness knows what this guy is now expecting. He's due here in ten minutes' time.
Let's see how I explain my way out of this one....
"You see Marco, I confused you with a nuisance of a guy that I'd refused to take home with me the other night, but who keeps on calling me".
I somehow think that won't go down to well.