Giving Him Both Barrels

I don't know much about the Countryside and I know even less about dating in the Countryside but I am happy to report that the shooting season provides a delicious opportunity to free oneself from, shall we say, disappointing allegiances.  While said gentleman came well recommended in all other aspects (good fabric, good hair, good cheekbones etc), alas, this is a man who despite all other manly attributes requires at least six months basic instruction before being let anywhere near a loaded over-and-under.  Neither encouragement nor subtle instruction have aided him in the least.  He had to go, such a waste, such a waste.  Given his exemplary performance in all other areas of our dalliance I decided the kindest thing to do was to pretend to free him to his one true love, shooting. Alas I would miss him while he was away for all those weekends, no I couldn't possibly join him, I would be a drag, Drizabone coats don't suit my substantial bust etc.  Given that his desk was already groaning under the weight of invitations from Monador Blowforth Gass and Isabelle Wanton-Snatch he will find himself utterly torn for... well, no more than a couple of minutes and, after suitable protest and a display of sufficiently dejected puppy eyes he will in fact find himself utterly relieved.  As he turns to go he might find himself rather looking forward to the fact that he is free to spend the rest of the Winter fully focussed on giving those gorgeous birds a fine left-and -right.