"How was Madrid?" asked Marc.

"Um, okay, I guess..." shrugged Hamish.

"That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic..." said Marc. "What’s the story?"

"Well, I went to see this guy Juan..." began Hamish.

"The guy who lives in Madrid, right?" clarified Marc.

"Exactly..." nodded Hamish. "He invited me to go stay with him so we could hang out for the weekend. It was a long distance booty-call. Guaranteed dick."

"So, what went wrong?" asked Marc.

"I was at the airport..." explained Hamish. "Literally about to board the flight, when I got a text from him telling me not to come."

"What?" exclaimed Marc. "You’re kidding me?"

"He said that his mother has Alzheimer’s, that they take it in turns to look after her..." continued Hamish. "That this weekend had been his brother’s turn, but something had come up and now he had to do it."

"Sounds plausible, I guess..." nodded Marc. "That meant that you couldn’t stay with him?"

"Yes..." confirmed Hamish. "He made that very clear."

"What did you do?" asked Marc. "You still went?"

"I was literally boarding the flight..." replied Hamish. "They were Ryanair tickets, so I knew that I wouldn’t get any money back from them. I just booked a hotel and got on the flight."

"Good for you!" grinned Marc. "You can easily amuse yourself in Madrid for the weekend, right?"

"Exactly..." nodded Hamish. "So, the first night I just went out and got fairly loose."

"Hooked up?" asked Marc.

"Obviously..." grinned Hamish. "By the time I got up the next day, all I felt like doing was going to the sauna."

"Hangover horn..." nodded Marc. "Sensible move."

"I got there, got naked, and went for a bit of a walk around to get my bearings..." explained Hamish. "That's when I saw Juan."

"What - the guy who'd blown you out?" asked Marc. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I turned a corner, and there he was..." confirmed Hamish. "He sure look surprised to see me!"

"Awkward!" laughed Marc. "What did he say?"

"He was very uncomfortable..." replied Hamish. "It was clear that the story about his mother suddenly had a few holes in it. He said that he was just leaving but that we should catch up for a drink later that day, that he'd message me to arrange the details."

"Did he message you?" asked Marc.

"Of course the fuck not..." shrugged Hamish.

"Probably for the best?" suggested Marc.

"Probably..." agreed Hamish. "Why are men such cunts?"

Photo by Mubariz Mehdizadeh / Unsplash

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