People are dismissive - no one's heard of it. I keep schtum. Need to do a big shop anyway; got no plans Friday. It's on.
Head down about 8pm, a splash of Calvin Klein still soaking into my face, neck and crotch.
It's all a bit quiet. Probably doesn't liven up 'til the pubs chuck out.
An old couple with an empty trolley undertake me at the onions. What are they doing here? I grunt but the geriatrics are in a world of their own.
Potatoes - check; carrots - check; eggs - check.
Remember why you're here, la. Scan the pet food aisle for skirt - nothing.
A little guy in a big suit surveys dried fruits. He's overdone it with the clobber. No competition. Throw him a knowing wink. He looks worried.
Our male bonding is suddenly interrupted by a female presence. A pigtailed girl in a knitted cardie is skipping towards us.
"Hello, young lady," I say, hoping an attractive single mum is around the corner.
The child stops dead, looks me up and down, and scurries off at pace, almost colliding with an unseen trolley that swerves into view.
It's her mother - and she's from the Finest range. Tall, dark and, I note, a fan of prunes.
A white shirt hangs over black leggings; sunglasses sit like a tiara on her chest-length hair. Stylish without being dressy - definitely the right tone for a night like this.
Follow her down cooked meats. I'll strike up a convo about something she picks off the shelves - though our girl doesn't seem to be buying much.
Of course she's not buying much - she's here to find a man.
Stay 10 paces behind along cereals, where finally she brakes to collect some Shreddies. Time to move in.
I'm right on her tail when the child's lips begin to stir.
"Mummy, that man keeps staring at you."
Throw the shitbag an evil but she's already skipping away.
Mum looks over, arms folded across her liberal bust. A pitiful shake of the head accompanies three little words that still echo in my heart.
"Get a life."
With that she's away, and I'm left scarlet-faced with Tony the Tiger. Great.
Grab a packet of Pop Tarts, pretending to read the label while she rolls down frozen foods, up wines and spirits, into home goods and out of my life forever.
A handicapped lady hums as she marches my way, an index finger in each ear. Spot little guy in a big suit two aisles down. Appears to be looking at condoms.
Scan the checkout staff. One hottie but she's got a queue.
"Would you like to come to this one?"
I hear the offer but don't look round - the voice is old and splintered.
Instead join the line for...Helen - that's what her badge says when I finally get to the front.
"Do you need some help with your packing?"
"I'm okay, thanks - as long as you don't go too fast."
The hottie smiles at my trademark quip, drawing a Biro from her tied up hair to scribble something on a receipt. I'm in.
"Have you ever heard of it being singles' night here on a Friday?"
"No. Is that why you're here?"
Helen places a delicate hand over her mouth to hide a throaty snigger.
"I needed a big shop anyway."
Type my PIN too fast - trying to show off. Have to re-enter.
She eventually returns my card, a lipgloss smirk still etched beneath her studded nose.
"See you next Friday," she says as I scamper to the exit.
Wait 'til I see Eve.