Читать книгу The Dating Game - Carolyn Caterer - Страница 10

Date #7: Charles

I have to admit that this was a date that I was quite looking forward to as it seemed to be holding some promise. I decided to wear a mid calf length black skirt, with a lilac top that was smart in an understated way, silver earrings, necklace and bracelet and long black suede boots.

I stood outside the restaurant in the Town Square in fairly eager anticipation at what the evening would hold and waited for my knight in shining armour.

At first I did a double take. Not because he was sporting shining armour, but I did wonder if he was wearing body armour under his crumpled white suit. For what was walking towards me was not the man featured in the photos he had sent me, but one about three stone heavier and bearing more than a passing resemblance to the politician Boris Johnson.

I tried to disguise my amazement at the sight that was approaching and instead concentrate on his personality. Hopefully things would improve.

He strode up to me and I held out my hand to shake his. Now, I personally don’t like kissing people on the cheek when you have never met them before, so to avoid this happening I have developed the lean back handshake. This works in the following way; when I go to shake his hand I lean back so that it should be clear to him that a kiss is out of the question and, should he ignore that signal, it becomes almost impossible for him to kiss me without some extremely gymnastic movements which in most men would induce a hernia.

Alas this didn’t work with Charles who grasped my hands, pulled me towards him and kissed me on both cheeks, beaming at me, alarmingly like Boris himself and I looked around to see if he had in fact arrived by bicycle.

“Jennifer, how lovely to see you. Come on let’s go in and get a table, I am feeling pretty hungry so I hope you are too.”

Judging by the look of him I could place bets on him finishing off my meal if I was showing any signs of being unable to do so myself.

We walked into the restaurant and he organised the table (bonus point for taking the initiative which was immediately deducted when he didn’t ask me to choose from the tables being offered by the waiter). However I was prepared to overlook this minor factor in the proceedings.

We settled into our seats and perused the menu.

“So Jen, you work in marketing?”

“Yes I do.” Hoorah, a man who actually starts the conversation by asking about me rather than expecting all the attention to focus on him, which has sadly been the case on previous occasions. My enjoyment was rather short-lived however with his next comment.

“I don’t think we need marketing, it is just a question of a good product which will always sell.”

So he had in one fell swoop insulted my profession and dismissed it. I was about to decide on whether to use my goldfish impression or snap back at him about no one needing antiques when modern stuff was so much more affordable, but decided that perhaps his faux pas was due to him being a little nervous (though to be honest I cannot say that he was acting like a bag of nerves, more like someone who is self assured and dangerously close to arrogance).

I decided to change the subject and we spoke about the theatre and how much we also liked going to horse races.

His next comment came as quite a surprise though;

“I do hope you are not madly keen on exercise (had he actually read my profile I wondered) as I don’t like people who are obsessed with keeping fit. What are you doing at the weekend?”

“Going down the gym on Saturday and doing a ten mile walk with friends on Sunday.” I replied while his sentence still hung in the air.

Charles seemed remarkably impervious to my sarcasm and continued to talk about himself and his business and how successful he was and I was beginning to wonder if we had much in common at all.

“So, forty two years old and never married, why is that?”

“I guess the answer would be that I have never met the right man and I cannot say I regret not marrying any of my former boyfriends as none of them would have worked out anyway.” I wondered what words of wisdom would emanate from his mouth after that statement. However even I could not have anticipated his answer.

“But surely at your age, if you have never been married, everyone must think you’re a lesbian?”

I stared at him and struggled to believe he had actually uttered those words. The main course was sitting in front of me and it took all my effort not to throw it all over him. I began to wonder if he actually was a man of the twenty-first century or had been projected here from some parallel universe.

“Well it wouldn’t matter if I was a lesbian, but I am not and that is why I am on this dating site.” Said quite calmly but with a steeliness that I hoped he would pick up. Silence ensued while we ate our main course and I began to wish that I had just agreed to a drink, rather than knowing that I would have to bear at least another fifteen minutes of his company before I could make an excuse and leave.

The silence was at last broken by Charles himself.

“I don’t feel there is much rapport between us.”

“No, neither do I.” Can he not even realise why that might be?

“Of course I would never sleep with a woman on a first date.” Where on earth was this going?

“No, and neither would I.” came my firm response.

“But if we were to meet up again, well maybe we would have sex?”

There really is no answer to a question like that. At least not one that can be given in the middle of Pizza Express without being told to leave and never come back because there are children dining close to you with their parents, who have complained about your use of the English language. Jane Austen would certainly not have approved of the words that were passing through my mind, but then again, would any of her characters actually have such a proposition put to them with less subtlety?

We continued in silence and I refused dessert and coffee in order to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. I wished him good luck in his search with enough firmness in my tone, that even he could get the message that we were never ever going to see each other again (at least not during this lifetime) and headed off to my car, wondering what the girls would say about the latest encounter.

“You are making this up aren’t you?”

“Do men like that really exist in the modern world?”

“What the hell is going on with these men?”

“You may well ask. Considering these are supposed to be the men who have the most in common with me I wonder what it would be like if I was sent details on men who didn’t have much in common. Surely it wouldn’t be any worse?”

“But how could he even consider saying those things?” Polly’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

“God it’s depressing, remind me not to try internet dating should Ben and I ever split up.” Said Anna with feeling.