The Bad Date

On Sunday night I had a date. I got an evening babysitter and was invited to dinner at a very lovely local restaurant, The Wayfarer, with a man who seemed sweet enough.

I was pretty sure I didn’t fancy him, but people can be wrong, I reckoned I would enjoy his company, and hey a free meal!

As such an occasion is tragically rare in the calendar of the single mum, I made some effort. Black heels, green satin dress, hair up, lipstick on. Whilst I realise it’s not good to say such things about yourself, I am pretty sure I looked good!

Turns out I didn’t fancy him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he was attractive to a lot of women, he just didn’t “zing” me. But, I decided the conversation could at least be enjoyable. After all, after he’d given me his number we had exchanged lots of texts and the he came across as sweet, charming and funny.

He was not charming, and he was not funny. But he was very sweet. In a sort of sad way. He told me in great deal about his wife, from whom he had been separated four months, and about the man she had left him for. And his ex girlfriend. And how much he loved playing Final Fantasy for hours. And hours. He was a little bit like a three legged puppy. Cute in a slightly tragic way.

I was bored. Soooo bored. I excused myself to use the toilet several times. A waitor asked how I was, I said I was dying and I needed more alcohol. He nodded, said he understood, and the most enormous glass of wine landed before me as I returned to the table. On a later visit to the toilet, a waitress followed me to ask how I was holding up. Said they were all wondering how I had ended up in that situation and were very sympathetic.

Oh how I wanted to leave. So badly.

But there is an odd happy ending. Well… I will explain the reason it isn’t a true happy ending in a follow up post, but for now suffice to say it makes for entertainment if nothing else.

We went into the bar to have post-meal drinks. I was relatively intoxicated by this point. I went to the bar to get myself a glass of water, and he excused himself to use the loo. A waitor asked how I was doing, the bartender said he didn’t blame me for flirting with the staff, and a waitress gave me a sympathetic shoulder squeeze.

A couple of men were at the bar and one pealed away and followed me back to my table. He handed me his number, offered to be my ride home, and assured me he would have given me a better night. Obviously I didn’t accept the offer of a lift, but I did hastily shove the number in my bag before my date returned. I won’t lie, I felt shifty, but damn he was a cute guy and who doesn’t love a knight in shining armour?

My date tried to kiss me. I screeched and protested that a lady doesn’t kiss on the first date. He later text me to say how much of a wonderful time he had and how he would love to do it again. Oh dear. Whatever enjoyment I got from his texting skills did not translate into person and I just can’t bring myself to carry on the conversation. I tried to let him down easily, and I hope I didn’t upset him because he was a good person, but just really not what I was hoping for or expecting.

So… admittedly it is not the classiest of situations to be in when you pick up one guy when you’re on a date with another… but hey. Silver linings and all.


About J.J. Barnes

Author of The Lilly Prospero Series Writer and Podcaster at Blogger at Rose And Mum And More Contributor to The Huffington Post
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3 Responses to The Bad Date

  1. Pingback: The Ass Man | Single Mum And More

  2. pearlandroo says:

    All the more annoying knowing you’d rather have spent your child free night catching up on the ironing pile! I feel your pain.

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