epsiode 14

Travelodge

Be careful what you wish for. I bumped into this guy I knew. He was quite a bit older than me, but not old enough to be my father. I met him via work years ago, and I gave him my email address. Still haunted slightly by text pest I had become overly protective of my mobile number.
He was dashing, and had a good job (something to do with technology which I didn't understand). He had children but was separated from his wife. We exchanged emails before arranging to meet up at a venue he'd chosen in Central London. My recent dating experiences had been a bit mixed so I was slightly apprehensive as I made my way to the bar. On the way I was apprehended by a waitress who said she knew who I was waiting for and led me to an empty table. My confused date who was sitting somewhere else, had to come and get me.
Sat with the right man, we ordered drinks and began chatting. The conversation was easy; he was interested in my work, and I tried to be interested in his but, no, still no clue as to what he did. We ordered some food, drank quite a bit more, and then it was time to go. He lived on the other side of London, but like a true gent, insisted on making sure I got home safely.
When we got to my flat, he paid the driver and asked if I would order him a mini cab. Fine, I thought, economically sound thinking. I let him in, (I had a flatmate at home), and immediately called the cab. He made himself comfortable in my living room. When I saw him sitting there, tie and jacket off, I asked what he was doing. He lunged for me; we kissed. I told him his cab was on the way, and he asked me to cancel it. After a bit of amateur wrestling I was saved by the buzzer.
Perhaps he had a lot to think about on the long journey South, because the next day I got an email apologising for his behaviour, and suggesting that he take me for a 'sensible' lunch to make up for it. As my motto is 'a girls' got to eat,' I agreed. What could be safer than lunch?
The sensible lunch was one of Champagne and oysters. It was anything but sensible. At ten that evening (I'd met him at one), I again found myself in a taxi next to this man.
It was déjà vu. He came in, we kissed, I ordered the taxi and when I'd done so I went to find him. He had made his way to my bedroom (thank God he hadn't gone into my flatmate's) and was lying, a little bit naked, (but still wearing his socks), on my bed. This time I threw him out before the taxi arrived, although I did let him put his clothes back on first.
The following day, my inbox announced another apology. He was sorry; perhaps we could go for a 'sensible' coffee next time. I replied saying that I had drawn the conclusion that nothing with him was sensible.
Now, here's the thing. I did quite like him and I enjoyed our dates, but there was something I wasn't sure about. Obviously I had seen a naked man before, so it wasn't that, and I'm not nun-like, but for some reason I wasn't ready for him to be a little bit naked in my flat.
A couple of days later I got an email inviting me out for a drink the following week. I hesitated but I accepted because the dates themselves were good, it was just getting rid of him that wasn't, and perhaps one of these days I wouldn't want to.
After a couple of bottles of wine, he made it clear that he wanted more. I was merry but told him that I wasn't comfortable with him coming to my place because of my flatmate; (an excuse or the truth? You decide).
'I passed a nice Travelodge on the way here,' he said.
I was taken aback. Obviously there were a million ways I could have responded.
'Do I look like a Travelodge kind of a girl?' I shouted.
Possibly not the best, but after copious amounts of wine; it was my best. He then offered Claridges. Oh my God, I have to say it was tempting, who doesn't adore Claridges?
'At least I'd get a good breakfast,' I said, thinking aloud.
'Oh, no, I can't stay all night.'
The penny dropped. He was as separated from his wife as much as Ant was separated from Dec. I looked at him, he looked at me expectantly. I grabbed my coat and fled.
I was a bit drunk and called a friend, relaying the story to her as I ran down the street. Then I looked behind and saw him frantically trying to put his jacket on as he ran after me. I told her I'd call her to let her know I got home safely and I hailed a taxi. Before I knew it, he jumped in the other side.
I think the poor cab driver must have wondered if he should call the police as I shouted all the way to my flat. He apolgoised; I called him names. We pulled up outside my flat and I slammed the door in his face.
When I wrote, a few columns ago, 'Where have all the grown ups gone?' I was talking about twenty-four year olds being too young. Well this almost fifty year old was also too young. And far too immature.
Be careful what you wish for.
A couple of days later he emailed me apologising yet again and inviting me for a 'sensible' walk. Despite the fact that I quite like walking, but because of the fact that he was liberal with both the truth and his hands, I deleted Travelodge from my inbox for good.

Next Week: A cocktail and a canapé