Netflix and Chill

So you're on the 8:05 train to Holborn station on another dreary Monday morning, the weekend as always has flown by so quickly that you would swear it was still Friday. You think about the day ahead, that impending deadline that's been the bane of your life for the past 2 weeks, the presentation that's due for the afternoon, and worse yet, your annual review that draws ever closer. As your eyes scan through the carriage you momentarily catch the eye of a petite brunette, with her slightly messy fringe and freckled nose. Her lips form an awkward smile, and you return the same.

It's now 3pm and your anxiety inducing presentation is behind you, and you've made some headway with other projects. Whilst on your afternoon break you recall that rather quirky looking girl on the train, and it prompts you to open up tinder, and as you scroll through a few profiles you realise that you've not felt the warmth of a woman's bosom in over two months and you wonder when will it be your time to Netflix and Chill.

400 years later technology has changed, the world of medicine has advanced, our preferred forms of entertainment are more humane, but 'the game' still remains the same.

Wooing, a thing of yesteryear. To wax poetic but to no avail.

Well, she wants a ring on it.

That resigned look suggests she has fallen for this more than once. Those promises of dinner and a dance, only for a last minute change to Doritos and d!ck.

The flat is tidied, you've thrown your unironed clothes in the closet, there's wine in the fridge, popcorn in the cupboard, and fresh sheets on the bed.

Now where is that remote…