Sometimes a girlfriend calls in a friend favour and even though you’ve taken off your make-up, put on your PJs and are cuddled in bed ready to watch the TV you’ve missed this week, you get dressed and go meet her. It’s just what you do.

A couple of weeks ago one of my best friends called in a friend favour and had me meet her at boy’s house for a couple drinks. She had met this boy a few weeks prior to that and they had hit it off instantly. He was gorgeous, smart, funny and he had abs you could grate cheese on; he seemed to be the whole package.

We arrived to cold beers and Gold Rush on the TV, a solid start to any evening. But within minutes we found out that his small town friends would be arriving and so would his dealer. The evening took a turn after that. We were happy to have a couple of beers and chat but neither of us were interested in putting anything up our noses.

I left around 1 a.m., citing work as my excuse. I offered to take my friend with me, but she was willing to stick around and give him the benefit of the doubt.

It wasn’t until the next day that I heard how her evening ended over several bottles of wine; it was just one of those stories. My friend popped by my apartment after work with two bottles of white and what I’ve come to recognize as her what-the-hell face.

After I left my girl and the Charlie Sheen wannabe had retired to his bedroom. About halfway into what might have been the turning point for their evening he asked her a favour: “Would it be OK if my friends came to watch?” Her response was simple, “Not a chance.” At which point our leading man stood up to leave—not because he was angry or disappointed but so he could go to the living room to tell his friends that unfortunately she wasn’t interested in putting on a show.

I think the best and worst part of the story is that he had assumed that she would say yes. He had so much confidence that she would say yes that he had pre-arranged everything with his friends. I’ve been on a lot of terrible first dates and a few terrible second dates, but never has a man assumed that a second date meant a closet show for his friends, because that is insane. Isn’t it?

Has being in a relationship changed my perspective? In the four months that I’ve been with Mr. Unexpected, have men started asking women for their wildest fantasies? Perhaps in anticipation of tomorrow’s apocalypse men have decided that they might as well swing for the fences. That has to be it, right?

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