Chapter 4 - Gay Dave, Friday

I'm on a date from hell. Well, not hell exactly, but it's not going that well. I'd had such high hopes! We met online. Obviously. Do people really meet in the old-fashioned ways anymore? I mean, why would you? Anyway, we 'chatted' a lot over a period of a week or so, then he suggest we meet up. We'd been getting along well enough, and frankly I was going through a bit of a bored period, so I said 'why not?' I didn't really fancy him, but that wasn't a problem - you can't photograph someone's personality, so looks can often be deceiving. Or not. I guess he's a bit nervous, but he's lost all his spark. He looks nice enough, nice shirt although it's buttoned up too much so only a hint of chest hair peeks out of it, but he's breaking that cardinal dating rule about not mentioning your exes! I thought we all knew not to mention them on the first date? Or the second. Or ever, if you've got any sense! But I feel I know his so well I might as well have been on a date with his ex. And yet I still can't work out why they split up. I'm not going to encourage him by actually asking, but I'm intrigued to find out who dumped who. I'm guessing he was dumped, which would explain the endless picking over it. Apparently it's been nearly 8 months, but the way he's behaving you'd think it happened on the way here!
That aside we seem to get on pretty well, online at least. We've got similar interests, similar jobs, similar senses of humour. I just wish I fancied him a bit more. Or at all. I can't put my finger on what I don't like about him. Perhaps I'm just being ridiculous, who knows how I'll feel once we get to the bottom of this bottle of wine.
The food's good too - his choice, expensive Thai so we're definitely sharing the bill. I like to pay for my own food, then I don't feel obliged to sleep with them if I don't want to. Although usually it makes no difference, I pretty much always do. I remember when I'd hardly kiss on a first date, how quaint that seems now. I guess that's why things don't last - the mystery has gone, there's no anticipation, no reason to come back for more. I feel like I might be single forever, but would it really be that bad? So, no sleeping with this one. No going back to his place. Or mine. Perhaps a drink somewhere else after here, but that's definitely it. No snogging in bus shelters. Or doorways. No no no.

I guess as dates go it’s not that bad, or maybe a couple more glasses of wine have helped me loosen up. They’ve certainly worked wonders on Steve who has now become positively outgoing! He even touched my arm, although I guess from the surprised look on his face he hadn’t realised he was going to until it was too late. Pity the foods finished and we’ll have to move on, I was just getting relaxed.
It could have been worse, I had a date once where the bloke ended up crying. I thought it was going okay, and casually asked him about his childhood. Well, before I knew it there were tears running down his face and I couldn’t make out what he was saying for the sobbing. God knows what the other people in the pub thought, I’ve certainly never been back to find out. He did send me a message a few days later, apologising and saying that perhaps he wasn’t ready for dating just yet - not ready for people full stop, more like. But in general I pride myself on giving good date - I always make an effort to look nice, and am witty and warm, asking lots of questions, listening and making eye contact. Let’s be honest, it’s not that tricky. And it’s only for a couple of hours so it doesn’t kill you to make the effort, but you’d be surprised how many people don’t bother. Like the guy who turned up with paint on his trousers - not because they were fashionably distressed, but because he’d not bothered to change out of his painting clothes! Or the bloke with nasal hair I could have platted. Dear God. No, upon reflection this one isn’t going to badly.
Where next I wonder? I don’t want to end up somewhere loud, where we spend the rest of the evening shouting at each other over the music, nodding in response to questions we can’t really hear. Coffee, I think. Somewhere quiet and cosy, but with a bit of a buzz to it, if that makes any sense. I wonder if Annie’s is still open? God, I haven’t been in there for years! Not since Simon fell over after we spent all night spiking his drinks, and Bruno the chef chased him out with a dirty mop. I’d forgotten about that night. I seem to remember sleeping on Nick’s kitchen table because his flat was tiny and he was too mean to let anyone share his bed. I must ring them.

Steve paid the bill while I was in the toilet, which was a bit awkward. I offered to pay my share, but he wouldn’t hear of it, which made me a bit cross. I hate having my decisions made for me, and now I feel like I owe him something. Too bad, I’m not sleeping with him, and I’ve resisted any discussion about that kind of thing so I hope he realises that. Although it has to be said he’s pleasingly tall, and in those jeans he’s got a cute arse….


Well, Annie’s is now a branch of Blockbuster. I wonder when that happened? I haven’t been in this part of town lately, so it could have been years ago. Shame really, this place needs somewhere to get a decent coffee a lot more than it needs somewhere to rent Ben Affleck films. I wonder what happened to Annie? Actually, come to think of it, I wonder if there ever was an Annie? I’m sure that wasn’t her name. I shouldn’t drink, it plays havoc with my memory.
Anyway, we ended up in a slightly posey bar, only because it was looked quiet and there were big leather sofas to sit on, although I’m wishing we’d not sat on the same one - we keep brushing against each other and if I’m not mistaken there’s a little sexual tension building. Honestly, I hadn’t meant to encourage him, but when I drink I forget how long my arms are and I keep knocking into him. And my knee too. Thirty four years old and I have no control over my own limbs!
Thank God we didn’t order cocktails. I’m trying to be desperately butch for the evening, so it was strictly lager for me. Besides, all that alcohol in one glass would end in tears. Oh, but I found out about the ex! I didn’t mention him, and really hoped he wouldn’t, but we were talking about pets and it turns out Steve had a dog that bit his boyfriend. The boyfriend wanted Steve to get rid of it, but Steve decided he liked the dog more. Sounds like bravado to me, otherwise he’d be over him by now. The stupid thing is that not long after they split up Steve had to move and couldn’t keep the dog anyway. I wonder why they don’t get back together? I wonder if another drink would be a really bad idea?


Hey, this is fun! Yeah, I’m pissed, but so’s he, and it kind of suits him. Much chattier. Much funnier. And this place is really nice too, not at all how I thought it would be - everyone seems really relaxed and friendly, not a single posey twat in the whole place. Perhaps it’s not their night? Cute barman too! What is it about barmen? Or waiters for that matter? I know they’re just being friendly to get a tip, and yet I fall for it every time! Perhaps I’ll go get another round in and slip him my phone number…