Pray Not for Mercy

Mercy measures (collective noun): a group of activities that involve one merciful person performing an activity or favour for the benefit of another. Motivated primarily by extreme sympathy for the other person. Occasionally guilt or boredom may be a factor in a person's decision to perform mercy. See also: mercy date or a mercy f*ck.* He has cancer, and I felt really bad for him, so I mercy f*cked him. or She wouldn't stop texting me, so I just mercy dated her in the end.

I have on occasion implemented "mercy measures". The merciful giver often gives with a bit of smugness, a little glint of superiority flashing in their eyes. Should this ever happen to you, may I advise you politely decline their merciful measure and walk with determination, and your eyes firmly fixed on a point that is far enough away for you to stride towards, and at your eye level. No lowering of eyes, stooping of head, or shuffling of feet. You wouldn't accept a loaf of bread from a complete stranger who thinks you're homeless (when you're not actually homeless obv.) would you?

A mercy date can occasionally be pleasant - for the merciful giver it enables them to feel like the last great philanthropist on the planet, and for the receiver of mercy because they are desparately enjoying the moment and kidding themselves it's only onwards and upwards from here. As for a mercy shag, I've done it once and it was a disaster. How to drive yourself and another person insane in 7 minutes. Just don't.

Having only ever been a smug merciful giver in the past, I was horrified when I realised I had been the subject of mercy this weekend, finding myself ensconced in a semi-awkward conversation with an ex-hayroller: the Vet.

By way of background (I don't want to spoil my next post) the Vet broke a lot of rules of a one-night stand - primarily by being far too nice and affectionate. I broke the rules of a one-night stand by believing it was something more than it was. However in my defence his OTT affection and tailor-made compliments were misleading. Bygones.

While I may have briefly tuned out during our chat to consider the possibility of nipping up the road for a quick pash, it took a while for me to realise what had motivated his conversation instigation.

A mutual friend approached me, and her apparent concern threw me. She asked "how it went".

"Well", I replied, suspiciously.
"That's good. I thought you handled it really well."

An alarm started sounding...

Handled what well? My mind ricocheted through the possibilities:

• He had broken, and realised I was more than a booty call - I was Rich Man's Wife material - and he had to have me before anyone else snapped me up. (I love pleasant thoughts, don't you?)
• He liked me, and was too shy to admit it (I think there's a chapter in He's Just Not That Into You on that)
• He felt sorry for me - perhaps because options 1 & 2 were plastered across my face. [Note: they bloody weren't].

"Well, he was just worried that it would be awkward during lunch, so he just wanted to chat to you and make sure no one felt uncomfortable right up front".

That, my friends, is a mercy chat. And I was its pitiful subject.