epsiode 11

There's no such thing as a normal date?

After my slightly depressing date on Saturday night, I was in a bar with some girlfriends when I asked the question. Do normal dates exist? Two of my friends had been single for a bit longer than me, and they looked at me as if they were going to tell me that Father Christmas didn't really exist.
'Come on,' I said, 'I'm a big girl.' Well, I did ask for it.
One friend told me that she'd met this guy through friends, and he invited her out for a drink at a country pub. Which was lovely, really, until they got there, had a couple of drinks and he disappeared. She assumed he'd gone to the loo but as time passed she became slightly panicked, being in the middle of nowhere. She kept drinking, puzzled but reassured after checking his car was still in the car park. She tried to call his mobile but there was no answer. After about an hour he returned, and when she asked him what he was doing he gallantly told her he'd been throwing up. But that was unfortunate I said, not his fault that he was ill, but no, because in the car on the way home he tried to kiss her.
My other friend told me that the last date she'd had she'd gone to dinner with this guy, and it was all going swimmingly, so much so that when he invited her to his friend's party she jumped at the chance, so they got there after dinner and she was being introduced around, and she was having a good time but when she went to find her date his lips were glued to someone else.
Then my friend told me about a friend of hers who had met someone she really liked, had a few dates, however he was only visiting London and lived in Paris. They had exchanged some steamy phone calls and emails, then he'd paid for her to visit him. She got there, and he had bought her some sexy underwear. They went out for a romantic meal and when they got back she stripped off ready for action. Then he told her he was tired, didn't want sex and went to sleep. That one baffled us all.
So, my survey seemed conclusive. There is no such thing as a normal date. In fact the new definition of date is 'humiliating experience.'
This conversation didn't really help me as I played it in my head and got ready for my date with the second speed dating guy. To say my expectations of the evening weren't high is like saying that Jimmy Choos are quite nice.
However, my date was going to pick me up, which was a chivalrous start, and although I had a fleeting worry that that might mean he knew where I lived, I brushed it aside. Not every man is a stalker, and even if he turned out to be one I could always move.
Anyway, he booked a restaurant; I didn't have to make a decision, (second good point). He was on time, (this was going well). He'd driven and I was relieved to see he was who I thought he was. We talked easily as we drove to the restaurant and we sat down and ordered drinks.
The place was nice, the food good, we laughed and joked and I found myself having a good time. You know what? This was kind of what I thought a date should be.
Before I bore you too much I have to say that I was in shock. I kept expecting Jeremy Beadle to jump out from under the table and say that I'd been framed. But with no sign of him this was looking like my first normal date in ten years. I might sound a little overexcited but it was a landmark, a milestone, a triumph. And that was before we even got to the main course.
I have to admit that I was still waiting for something. He was not only married but believed in polygamy; or he liked Morris dancing and carried his bells everywhere, but none came. Here across the dinner table was a man who was quite attractive, made me laugh and we were having easy conversation. He also paid for dinner.
Then he drove me home, kissed me goodnight, (it was a pretty good kiss) and there was no disaster to report, at all. I went to bed, feeling as if perhaps my friends and I had misjudged dating after all. And to cap it off, I received a text in the morning thanking me for a great evening.
I felt like calling up my ex and telling him that he hadn't ruined my life after all. That if I was going to remain single for the rest of my life, it wouldn't necessarily be because I had no choice but because I made that choice. I felt more like my old self, and more than ready to do battle. And I didn't call up my ex because it was no longer about him; it wasn't even about the guy I dated, it was about me.
So, I smugly convened my girlfriends.
'Guess what?' I told them. 'There is such a thing as a normal date.' I told them about my evening.
They looked at me as if they were going to tell me the tooth fairy wasn't real.
'Remember it,' one said.
'Because it might never happen again,' the other finished.

Next Week: Text Pest