I saw Dave the Date today. We bumped into each other in Planet Tesco when I was buying suck in pants. Like most men, he was standing a safe distance from the mannequins, his face slightly flushed, staring at the double Gs. I had my painting dungarees on and no makeup. I desperately didn't want him to notice the painting dungarees.

'Hiiiiiii!' I say, hiding the fat pants behind my back.

'Hey,' he says, shuffling from one Timberland shoe to the other.

'Well!' I say, but without hands to express myself I almost topple over.

'Yeah,' he says, his eyes following my every wobble. He furrows his brow.

I panic. 'I'm in my painting dungarees.'

'That's why they have paint on them.'

'Yes!' I laugh too much. 'I'm painting my floorboards.' God I'm interesting. 

'Don't you like them sanded?' he asks. 

My mind goes blank. All I can think about is if I drop the fat pants on the floor will he notice?

'I could sand them for you,' he says, the corner of his mouth relaxing into a sort of smile.

'Really?!' I say as if he has just discovered a cure for cancer. I decide to go for it and drop the pants.

'I mean, if you want them sanded.' He has look at you eyes.

'God yes!' I say, like that actress faking an orgasm in when Harry met Sally.

'Okay then,' he says. 

'Fab,' I say. 

'I'll call you to come and have a look,' he says.

'It's a date!' I laugh. Hint hint have you forgotten, helllloooooo?

'Good,' he bends down. 'You dropped this,' he says, picking up the fat pants and handing them to me.

'NO!' I declare.

Now he looks embarrassed. 

'They're not mine,' I protest.

He is still holding them.

'They're always there,' I explain. 'I've been complaining for weeks. This store's so big it takes  forever to get from one end to the other. I'll find a manager.' I snatch the pants from his large hands. I can't look at him or the pants or the woman nearby who seems a bit on edge.  

'Bye,' he says but by then I have disappeared into the Home Baking For The Smug aisle. A teenage girl is stacking shelves. I smile. She smiles back. 

'They're supposed to hide your muffin midriff,' I say, burying the fat pants amongst the rows of paper muffin cases. 'Don't buy them they don't work, they just shove everything up so it looks like you're wearing a rubber ring.' 

'Sorry,' she says. And then by way of explanation, 'Everyone's gone off sick.'  

'No worries,' I say. 'All sorted.' 

I turn round and bump into Dave the date. He must have been watching all the time.

'I was just thinking,' he says. 'I'm free later on, after work. I could look at your floors then.'

I think, haven't you seen enough of my flaws in the last ten minutes. 'Terrific,' I say. '236 Alexandra Park.'

He goes. I know because I follow him to make sure he gets in his car. 

Now what?