Of all the scary and awkward situations we put ourselves in first dates have to be very near the top of the list. I’ve never really believed much in the whole idea of ‘dating’, it all seems far too formal and artificial a process for true love or romance to blossom in my books. I honestly think that when I meet the ‘one’, when that flash goes off and lightning strikes, I will know instantly. So the idea of embarking on a series of dates with men who simply make my ego flutter from their attention seems like a waste of time.
However, after turning down another offer of being wined and dined, I was intrigued and beginning to wonder if I was missing out on some valuable life skills or right of passage by avoiding such a tried and trusted notion. Besides, what’s so terrible about being wined and dined by a man who’s had the courage to ask the pleasure of my company for a few hours? While I’m waiting for Mr.Right maybe Mr.Right-now could help me kill some time.
I was fortunate enough to be asked out not long after this change of heart whilst in my local, he was a tall and attractive man from London who was in Manchester visiting relatives. So the date was set and a simple and very informal itinerary planned, we would be meeting for drinks then heading to a museum (to avoid getting too plastered) and taking it from there. First drinks and initial getting to know each other went well, as did the museum where his knowledge of the classic planes was on the right side of impressive, not corny or arrogant. I was starting to think maybe there is something to this dating lark, if nothing else I’d had a nice day and enjoyed some good company.
We decided to go for some food at a great tapas place I knew, now thoroughly relaxed in each other’s company I didn’t mind entering into a formal dating situation and I was in no hurry to escape…this feeling soon changed. As we sat waiting for our drinks, which only took a few minutes, I was invited to a family barbecue, family wedding, told I would be lavishly taken shopping in his favourite store and asked where we should go on holiday next year. When the drinks arrived I ordered another one to follow immediately, I had a feeling this was going to be a long meal.
The food took a while to arrive but that didn’t matter as my date managed to talk about himself constantly to help kill the time. Maybe he just really liked me and maybe his nerves just fuelled his verbal diarrhoea but I was beginning to think we wanted very different fundamentals from a relationship. When the food arrived I was looking forward to some peace and quiet, what I wasn’t looking forward to was him trying to kiss me with a mouth full of food. I know we were sharing tapas but that was a share too far.
The final blow came when he insisted on me having one of the meatballs I hadn’t got round to trying yet. He splatted one down on my plate and then proceeded to cut it up into bite size pieces for me. The waitress walking by who witnessed this was horrified and while I held my hands up and tried to show I felt the same I couldn’t help but be extremely embarrassed and guilty almost for bringing this on myself.
Needless to say there has been no date number two. I know I may seem cynical before my years with my views on dating and, actually, plenty of people have lived happily ever after, embracing first date disasters as the funny story they can tell at their wedding. As for me, my brush with dating has definitely confirmed I’m happy with my intuition when it comes to looking for Mr.Right, but it has put me off meatballs for a little while.
Image courtesy of datingormarry.com