the fourth date

Jan is chatting to the care coordinator about her patchy dating history.
‘I’ve kissed my fair share of frogs,’ she says. ‘Frogs. Trolls. You name it. A whole long line. One guy I saw had one and a half ears.’
‘On the same side of his head.’
‘He looked alright but he wasn’t the kind of guy I normally date. I just didn’t fancy him. Not ‘cos of the ear thing. I didn’t notice the ear thing till the fourth date.’
‘You made it to four dates?’
‘Yeah – well – it was a slow month.’
So – what? On the fourth date you asked him back to your place, ran your fingers through his ears, and that was that.’
‘We didn’t get that far. I only noticed the ear thing when he turned to get his coat. And anyway – even if he had told me I wouldn’t have believed him. When we met on the first date I asked him what he did and he said he was a dust man.’
‘A dust man?’
‘Yeah. Why? What?’
‘I dunno. Dust man sounds odd’
‘Refuse collector, then.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Anyway. I didn’t care what he did, so long as we got on. Only in his case, we didn’t.’
‘Shame.’
‘But you know what he said on the fourth date?’
‘What?’
‘He said he wasn’t really a dust man.’
‘What was he, then?’
‘He said he was a financial adviser. He said he only told me he was a dust man to check I wasn’t going out with him for his money.’
‘Tosser.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Still. I don’t think that’s any reason to bite his ear off.’

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