“Alright Hails, doll?” hollers B, who is sitting outside the Co-Op smoking a cigarette as she waits for her friend to come back out. I walk over to say hello, with my packet of mince (price reduced due to small hole in packaging) and solitary onion. B peers into my bag. “Dinner for one, pet?” she asks sadly. I nod, feeling slightly pitiful but reminding myself that B has 8 children and that I’d probably choose eating alone over cooking for 10 people every night.
“No hot dates coming up?” she presses on. I shake my head, feeling increasingly depressed and tempted to run back into the shop for a family-sized bar of Dairy Milk.
“I don’t date,” I gently remind her, “as I am actually invisible to men.”
B advises me to go to the local pub some night, get bladdered and snog a random stranger just to get it out of my system. I politely decline, but thank her for her concern. “It would be nice to get a wee Christmas kiss, though…” I muse wistfully, almost shyly. “Not that there’s any chance of that ever happening.”
B snorts in disgust. “How are you ever going to get anywhere with that attitude, doll?” she asks impatiently. “You have to be on the look-out. You have to seize the moment. You have to make the most of the festive season. You have to be prepared, Hails! Here, look…” she proceeds to fumble in her pocket, and produces a very small piece of mistletoe. I gaze silently at it. “What,” I ask eventually, “is that?”
“Duh,” says B, “travel-sized mistletoe. Carry it around in your pocket. You never know who you might meet. You can’t be wasting opportunities in your situation.” I dubiously accept the mistletoe. “Err… so I see a guy I fancy, whip out my travel mistletoe and just… err…”
“‘Tis the season!” says B, cheerfully.
I am so glad to have found the answer at long last. It is clearly foolproof! I expect that I will be in a serious relationship before very much longer.