Took the plunge and arranged my first date. Virtually.
Since joining a well known dating site I've been separating the wheat from the chaff. It's 94% chaff. I'm pretty sure 75 percent of those who've messaged me haven't read my profile and I'd go as far to say they message hundreds of single ladies with the same 'hey there ;)'. Fucking hate emoticons.
Of the 6% I'm left with, I'll admit, I wasn't optimistic.
A sudden bubbling of assertiveness saw me message 2 males I found attractive. Males I thought might like to take me out. Like a lone lady at the bar approaching a lone male, I challenged protocol and made the first move.
I got a few replies & even started up a little rally of messages. A light-hearted bit of hoopla.
With little patience, I moved things briskly along. & so last Wednesday the meeting came to be.
What I knew so far:
Aged 27
Graphic Designer
Own flat in Manchester
Allergic to apples
My being early for everything is sometimes disadvantageous. Not tonight.
I slipped into a central bar, ordered a G&T when I gained a tap at my shoulder. My dearest friend. I'll admit, I hadn't told her. It was for fear of a real ribbing, which I obviously got when she learned the reasoning for me being there. Still, it was a relief to have someone to listen to my woes until he arrived.
Arrive he did. Dressed in Fred Perry, slim fit jeans, dreamily-excellent desert boots complimented by slightly 80s clipped hair. He was 2 inches shorter than he had noted but his face more than made up for it. He had said he had an athletic body, but he looked more toothpick like to me. That face, as I've said, more than made up for it.
As friend exited, the obligatory thumbs up were whipped out. I wonder if he saw.
30 minutes in, he's bought me a drink. Point. I've found out his background, respired in the most delightful scent and decided that the positioning of his ear piercing didn't mean he was gay. Point.
As I spoke of my various travels, I omitted several details that included my being there with boyfriends, which may have made me out to be more independent than I am. Not to fear. Yet as I weaved a (teeny) web of deceit I began to fluster.
Me: "wow it's hot in here"
Him: "not really, it's probably because you're not breathing much. You're talking quite a lot"
I'm fully aware that I talk incessantly when nervous, but never have I wished to be Zippy from Rainbow before.
It was going relatively well and we went to a few more bars. Engaging banter. He offers a bottle of plonk, I'm tempted, but remember last time I consumed wine on a date, "I'll just have a G&T ta".
Walked me to my mode of transport at 12 & leans in for a kiss, I peck on cheek. Slightly awkward. Suprisingly I didn't turn into a pumpkin.
Since this parting we have text infrequently. I broached going out again (no patience) and he said he'd try and squeeze me in. I think not. I told the sonny to jog on.
This isn't to say I'm disheartened. I might tone down my frank approach to first dates and perhaps hold back when admitting I hate sandwiches and sushi, but overall it's about your own confidence and character. I must say, not overly enamored by virtual dating. Tad contrived.
He was a bit camp.
Bitter? Me?
No comments:
Post a Comment