I’d been single for eight months, and my dating life was about as exciting as a damp tea towel.
Then I met a gorgeous man called James on Hinge. Tall, handsome, lovely smile, and, most importantly, he could spell “definitely.”
Naturally, I was ready to marry him.
After a particularly flirty evening of messages, I decided to send him a little surprise the following morning.
Nothing too scandalous. Just a photograph of me in some rather expensive lingerie with the caption:
“Fancy coming round and giving me a good seeing to? 😉”
I pressed send.
And immediately realised I’d sent it to the wrong James.
Not Hinge James.
WINDOW CLEANER JAMES.
A 63-year-old man called James who cleans my windows every six weeks and once spent twenty minutes telling me about his hip replacement.
I nearly threw my phone into the washing machine.
Before I could explain, three little dots appeared.
Then came his reply:
“Morning love. I can do Thursday, but it’ll be £25 as usual.”
I screamed.
Actually screamed.
I sent back approximately fourteen apologies and explained it was meant for somebody else.
He replied:
“No worries. Thought you’d changed the service requirements.”
I thought that was the end of it.
It was not.
Because Thursday arrived, and there was James outside my kitchen window, cleaning away as if he hadn’t seen me dressed like a budget Victoria’s Secret angel.
I tried to avoid eye contact.
He tapped on the glass.
I looked up.
He winked.
Then he held up a handwritten sign.
“JUST THE WINDOWS TODAY?”
Reader, I nearly died.
The worst part?
He’s now told me he’s retiring next month.
Which means my final interaction with this man might genuinely be the most exciting thing that’s happened in his entire window-cleaning career.
Emma, do I buy him a retirement present, or is the photograph quite enough?
WHAT’S YOUR VERDICT?
Choose one reaction.
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