And there Fred was, right there in my call log. One outgoing at two-thirty in the morning which she maybe hadn’t even answered. I clicked in to check the timestamp for the duration: ten seconds. A voicemail at worst, I decided before I clicked out again. Then I double-checked WhatsApp, although I hadn’t seen anything there when I’d checked in with messages from the girls. I allowed myself an air-punch of joy, too, when I saw that I hadn’t messaged Rowan in my drunken stupor either. But just to be sure, I clicked into my text messages to check and—

‘Double bollocks.’

Not one; not even two; but three messages to Fred. I scrolled through them slowly and took belly breaths as I read them: Hry Beautifull. I hppe thsi doesnt wake youu. Jusr anted to llet you kno I was thinkiing about you toniht. Be grate to see you soon. – and I decided after the first message alone that if the worst possible outcome was that Fred now thought I was a tad illiterate when drunk, that was fine. I could handle that. I could one hundred per cent talk myself out of that. The illiteracy only continued well into message two – Soz pressd send to soon. Call m yeh? Well get drinks/drinner/something. It’s Edi btw. Xxx – and I wondered whether anyone even used those abbreviations anymore! I was surprised ‘great’ hadn’t had a figure eight in it somewhere.

‘Still, Edi, if that’s the worst …’ I spoke aloud to steady my breathing as I scrolled to message three, one eye closed at the prospect of finding yet more spelling mistakes. ‘Oh, but it’s so much worse.’ I groaned and threw my head back into the pillow, swamped with a desperate want for my bed to swallow me entirely and let me avoid whatever would spill from the embarrassment Drunk Edi had caused me. But the pillow resisted any wishes for suffocation, despite the weight that message three was bearing down on us both: Been outout w/ girls tonite. Feels dead weird not to txt youu to let yu know Im home. I miss you.

Having never made such a monumental dating cock-up before in my life, I decided the only thing to do was immediately call Fred to apologise, explain the message was meant for Rowan, and then apologise again (in case that explanation somehow made things even worse). I navigated through to my outgoing display and hit the green phone next to her name, then I waited. And I waited. And—

‘The person you’re calling can’t answer at the moment …’