Date Night...

So I'm a twenty-something living and not so much loving in Oxford. Moved here almost five years ago. It was far enough away from home to call it a rebellion and opposite, adjacent to the 'Big Smoke' yet not overly smokey. Perfect! It was home enough to make me want to kick off my heels and put on some slippers, for a time at least.

However, I'm currently experiencing a crisis of identity in the minimal smoke. As we all well know, 'home is where the heart is'. Not having a heart makes it difficult to settle.

I've just taken one of my regularly scheduled trips up north. I have to take these trips when I get a little homesick. If I time them just right then I stay long enough to realise why I love the independence that Oxford provides without murdering a family member or doing any lasting damage to any of my relationships with said family members.

I spent my Saturday night up north "dating" my parents. That's right guys, 23 and tagging along to the 'rental's date-night. It was worrying at first as I'm not 100% familiar with the social precedent set out for such scenarios. I wasn't even sure that there was precedent - LexisNexis definitely couldn't provide me with any (law joke - sorry). I mean, they did pay for the tickets and I did shovel about £5's worth of pick 'n' mix into my tardis of a Candy-King cup. Did this mean that they would drive me home and expect me to invite them into their own home for "coffee"???

As most girls know these days if a man foots a bill like that on a first date he is quite clearly going to try and invite himself in for "coffee". There's that all too familiar awkward moment as you look down free yourself of the seat belt in the man's penis extension on four wheels and you look up to find lips puckered and eyes closed. All I could do through the credit roll was hope that my Dad was not one of "those guys".

To my relief as we rolled up outside home in the Spaniel Wagon no-one seemed to be trying it on.

Maybe date-night with the parents is the future? I don't have to worry about going dutch and I don't have to shave my legs. The only thing that I have to worry about it the fact that I may end up a lonely old spaniel women (I'm not a massive cat fan) in the future...