IT was a fine summer’s evening as I put the ice cold beer to my lips.

I was meeting a few old friends who are always great company, already drinking beer and basking in the knowledge there was curry-eating ahead, life couldn’t be better.

I smiled as the first walked through the door.

Then I saw it – Gah.

He had brought along an additional person unfamiliar to the group.

“You don’t mind if Steve here comes along do you?”

my friend says.

As the man whose name I have just learnt was standing only a couple of feet away with a hapless smile and an outstretched hand, I wondered if this qualified as a legitimate question.

I have lots of friends who do this kind of thing and it always angers me.

I don’t know if it is a sign of a terrible mental disorder on my part or, as I suspect, extreme selfishness on theirs.

My friend might as well have started with: “This is Steve. I decided you didn’t want a relaxing evening catching up with old friends so I have brought a stranger for a nice stilted conversation about issues you don’t care about. It’s good for me, though, because I know everyone.”

Many friends have cited my recent aversion to meeting new people as a possible reason for my being single.

However, I have a close circle of good friends and endless matey acquaintances I don’t get the chance to see as often as I’d like – I’m just not hiring at the moment.

This Steve character seemed like a good egg, though, and the evening seemed to be going well; maybe I wouldn’t hit my friend after all.

Then as we started dinner and as the conversation got louder and more jovial he had the temerity to tell me to “shut up”.

It was said in such a playful manner it seemed to pass the others unnoticed and by the time the insulting remark had registered it was too late and the conversation had progressed.

I moved my food around with my fork, too sick with anger to eat.

What if people had heard – more specifically, lady people? They would think I was the weak link in the group, someone who accepts light-hearted abuse as the price they have to pay for human company.

I considered flying into a belated rage but rejected it on the grounds that he might tell me shut up again.

For hours I laughed along with the others as if I was listening to their anecdotes but all the while I was plotting.

Then, at last, my chance came when he interrupted me. I knew I had to be more obnoxious and condescending than he had been to win this conversation.

“Ssshhh,” I said with a finger to the lip. Nice.

On reflection, I probably should have put my finger to my lip not his, but the victory was untainted. This retaliation didn’t go unnoticed and he seems to be remonstrating.

Even better, I tilted my head and winced like it hurt to listen to his drivel then waved away his noise with the back of my hand as if batting an invisible insect and said “bah”.

Eventually he stopped talking.

Checkmate, Steve, I thought checkmate.