I've mentioned this before on another thread.
I met a girl one night in Royale's. Absolutely fucking beautiful, called Vannessa. We got on like a house on fire, talking loads, laughing, have the odd kiss and cuddle and spent a couple of hours together so much so that even after a single night, I thought we could be great together.
At the end of the night I put her in a taxi and arranged to meet her on the Saturday night. I explained I was off to the match in the day but would be ready to meet her at about 7-8. She was made up that we'd arranged a date and i was cock-a-hoop. I went off to the match and rushed home to Eccles to get my best threads on and get out.
I phoned her to say I was ready and ask where she fancied meeting. Her tone was off and she said she wasn't going to meet me. I was gobsmacked and asked her to have the decency to explain what had changed.
"Did you go to the match today?"
"Yes, why?"
"Are you a City fan?"
"Yes, why?"
"You caught the bus on Half-Edge Lane right outside my living room window where you stood and described to your mate exactly what you planned to do to me. You clearly only want me for one thing."