epsiode 17

Three men and a cabbie

There's an ongoing debate (especially in my head) about modern dating vs. the old fashioned (i.e. when I was last single) kind. Should one leave meeting someone to fate as opposed to going to dedicated singles events? Dating, the way I find myself doing now, was as alien to me in my last single life as the man who calls when he says he will.
However, on Saturday night we had a normal party to go to. I arrived with my two girlfriends; the party was in full swing and there were wall to wall men. We bought a drink and then perched ourselves on a sofa. We'd been there only five minutes before man one approached.
Man one: Boomerang boy. He bounded up to us like a puppy and introduced himself. I reciprocated.
'I've been looking for Faith all my life, and now here you are,' he said. If that wasn't bad enough, he elaborated. He hadn't exactly been looking for Faith all his life but since he was seven. Or was it eight? And now he was thirty. Get the picture. He then tried to grab me to dance, and when I protested he left. Then he came back. Every time I sent him away, he would come back again, in that boomerang boy way as if I might have changed my mind. I was polite but his lines got worse and worse, in fact I swear at one point he asked me if 'I was sent by the angels.' I told him I didn't want to dance over and over again. Then I told him that my shoes forbade me from doing so, (which in fairness they did, my skyscrapers of choice that evening meant that I could barely stand). Finally, I turned to a random stranger who happened to be sat next to me as boomerang boy approached.
'Have you met my boyfriend?' I asked him. I can't tell you who was the most surprised, boomerang boy or the stranger next to me.
After finally he left along with my (very scared) pretend boyfriend, I was introduced to man two.
Man two: Tree hugger. I'm not totally superficial, I worry about the environment and try to be aware of what is happening, but, I had to remind myself, I was at a party not a protest. Tree hugger lectured me, there was no other way of putting it. He was so patronising, he made me want to go home and pollute something. After listening to him for as long as I could, I excused myself to go to the loo. I stood in the long queue, and just as it was my turn, tree hugger approached.
'I'm desperate, do you mind if I just pee in the sink?' When I said, that indeed I did mind, he shrugged and said he'd go outside instead. Who was it that said romance was dead? My final encounter with him was him giving me (and every attractive woman at the party) leaflets for his next protest.
On a catch up with my friends at this point, I was told off for being too harsh. Boomerang boy was just a bit too keen and Tree hugger, well, at least he asked if he could pee in the sink. Eh? Apparently, it showed he had manners.
Back on my sofa I turned to see man three sit down next to me.
Man three: Work of art. I found myself staring into the eyes of a gorgeous, gorgeous man. After a few short minutes I was very close to being in love.
Here we were two near strangers, snuggled on a sofa in the middle of a loud party. Our conversation was easy, although he fairly quickly betrayed the fact that he was only twenty-one. I smiled, he was just so beautiful, I couldn't even object to his age. It then transpired that his brother was one of the DJs and he was just visiting London for the weekend. He lived up North. Despite the evidence mounting against him, Work of art was still looking good. I barely flinched when he said that he lived with his parents. So, here was a twenty-one year old boy who lived at home which was nowhere near London. Finally I asked him what he did.
'I'm taking 'A' levels,' he responded. It was a step too far. I took my A levels seventeen years ago and as much as I tried to find him sexy I just couldn't help but think of him needing help with his homework. In the end, Work of art went off to talk to his brother and my friends came and found me.
'It's pointless,' I said.
'But at least we could take him home and stare at him,' one of my friends suggested, wistfully. But instead, I kissed him goodbye (on his cheek) and we left.
By this time it was about five in the morning and it had been an exhausting night. We sat in the cab and debriefed. Well actually my two friends berated me the whole way home for not bringing WOA home. I was taking things too seriously, I didn't understand the concept of a one night stand, and I had passed up the opportunity to have a gorgeous man in my bed.
One friend suggested stopping at the twenty-four hour Tesco so we could get breakfast, so the cab pulled up outside the petrol station.
'We're leaving her for collateral,' they told the taxi driver as they both got out. I sat there, quietly but then cabbie piped up.
'You shouldn't be with twenty-one year old.' He turned to me.
Cabbie: Looked like Borat and he sounded a bit like him too.
'You should be with someone like me. I am thirty and in good health.'
I was subjected to a twenty minute wooing from Borat which was terrifying as I was alone and irrationally wondering if he'd drive off with me. He said he would take me to a pub in Camden the following week. It was more of an order than an invitation.
'And don't bring your friends,' he finished. I hadn't said a word at this stage. He demanded my phone number, and unable to refuse due to my fear of abduction I made one up.
Finally my friends returned with enough carrier bags to last the week.
When we got home I practically bolted out of the taxi and I furiously told them what had transpired. Were they contrite?
'Well if he fancied you that much you'd have thought he'd have given us a discount'. Of course they weren't.

Next Week: The set-up