epsiode 13

Zoo Dating

Whilst in Devon with the only male action being text pest, I spoke to my friend about my return to London. I told her I needed some fun and asked her find me something different. I was thinking she would come up with wine tasting or a cocktail party. The deal was that as she was doing the research I would agree to whatever she found.
She found Zoo dating.
Before I could object it was booked. She reminded me I said 'different'. I tried to say I meant different from being at home in Devon but to no avail.
Zoo dating was taking place on Sunday. Was she going to join me? No, she has a child (and as much as he likes the Zoo, apparently he doesn't count as a single). So, I looked into my future activity. Firstly, the organisers said there would be an equal number of men to women (good). Secondly, I needed to wear comfortable shoes. I shuddered. It's not that I don't ever wear comfortable shoes, but normally only in the gym or first thing in the morning when I go next door to buy my coffee in my slippers, I do not date in such things.
Correction; apparently I do.
I discussed with a number of friends what sort of people one might meet zoo dating. One suggested recovering alcoholics. Another thought single parents. My sanest friend said animal lovers. I didn't really fit into any of the above categories, although I do quite like animals, I'm always a bit worried they aren't happy in zoos. And there was no way they were getting me in the reptile house. I was doomed.
The next question was what does one wear? Obviously we knew about the sensible shoes (oh ye Gods), but what with them? I was told my vintage leopard print coat was out, in case it upset the animal lovers or the leopards despite it being fake fur. I decided in the end to wear black. A lot of it. Black jeans, black jumper, black (comfortable) shoes, and a (black) skull scarf and of course a black coat. I didn't look like Marilyn Manson exactly but I wasn't too far off. Oh and as it was a sunny day, I also donned (huge) black sunglasses. Would I scare children? There was a likelihood.
It's difficult to know where to start with the strangeness of the situation. There was no wine to hide behind. There would be a lot of animals. But I arrived at the allotted time, and I had a smile plastered to my face.
It was quickly wiped off. As I approached the only childless group near the meeting point I resisted the temptation to run. Sitting around a table were ten women, and four men. One of the men was working on the event, (and sweet as he was with his handle bar moustache and tight T-shirt he had a look of the Village People about him); man two was old enough to be my father; man three was doing a very good impression of Elvis; man four was young enough to be my son. The last statement might not be strictly true but he still had teenage acne.
I didn't go to the Zoo thinking that romance would necessarily bloom, but when I got there I knew it certainly wouldn't.
The organiser (who scarily reminded me of the captain of my school's hockey team), explained that some of the men had dropped out and three more were running late. I tried to hold onto that sparkle of hope.
The women were a mixed bag too. There seemed a span of ages, and they were all very sweet although one lady seeing me looking a bit hot in my all black, (she was wearing lemon yellow), told me I should have checked the advance weather forecast.
Hockey captain suggested, as we set off that as we went round we might like to say which animal we would date and why. I objected to this, it wasn't only wrong but had I stumbled into some kind of weird kinky group? Was the real motive behind Zoo dating something to do with bestiality?
After noisily voicing my protest, this was cast aside, and replaced with maybe we could find out one interesting fact about everyone. Sorry, love, but no.
But you know it was interesting. Without a romantic prospect in sight, I spoke to people about why they were there, and it turned out that Sunday is a hard day for many single people as couples and families are normally busy and it was nice to have something to do. I immediately felt awful for my harsh judgments. Really awful.
However, I was soon distracted, (just like a lioness) by the imminent arrival of fresh meat. As we stood by the Monkeys, we waited for one man. Expectation among all the ladies was high; visible on all faces. Said man arrived and, well, apart from anything else he had a mobile phone clipped to his belt. Enough said.
On we went through the Zoo, and then, lo and behold the last two men were on their way. Again, us ladies waited expectantly. I spotted two cute boys coming towards us, hoping amongst hope it was them. And it was.
Hooray! They were probably younger than me, but that was something I was over now, one was tall, dark, good-looking, the other blonde and sweet looking. Hope had been restored. And almost immediately, we got talking and the rest of the zoo trip was far more entertaining. Despite clearly neither of them being my soul mate, (although that would make a great story for the grandchildren), I had two cute guys to flirt with, and flirt we did. And then suddenly it was over.
Where we'd been a group in the Zoo, standing at the exit we were all strangers once more. This was one of the reasons that daytime dating is strange; if it was the end of an evening it would probably have been different, not least because I'd probably have had a glass of wine or two. One by one we took our leave, saying goodbye in a slightly formal way. The parting shot from the hockey captain was that she was organising a picnic with rounders. I won't tell you my reply to that.