epsiode 26

Where have all the grown-ups gone? Part 2

I am sorry to report that Hairgel and I are no more. It wasn't that he cried when I used his hair straighteners first, (although he would have given the girls in the Big Brother house a run for their money), or that he had more baggage than the luggage belts at Heathrow airport. No, but after about our fifth or sixth date, he called me and told me he was going away for over a month for work. I didn't think, 'oh no I'll miss you,' which said quite a lot, and the chances of us seeing each other again are slim to none.
Despite the fact that we didn't really know each other long enough to have a proper break-up, I thought I would perhaps indulge in a mini-rebound. After all since my ex, Hairgel had lasted longer than any other man. That had to be a step in the right direction, didn't it?
The young men had come out of the woodwork again. On my way to meet friends, I was walking down the street and I got wolf-whistled by two guys who were in school uniform. A bit later, I was walking past a group of young lads and one of them said, 'you could win shag idol.' Just before I reached the tube, a guy on a bike nearly crashed into me. He smiled sheepishly; I told him he wasn't old enough to have given up his stabilisers.
I made it, just in one piece, to meet my friends, and after dinner we went to a bar, where we ended up being surrounded by young men. Now, you know my history with men of a certain age. I have neurotically worried about dating guys who I thought were too young and I am guilty of ageism. But, at the same time I've come a long way since I started this column and I decided I would give up above mentioned neurosis.
I ended up speaking at length to one of the guys. I decided to go cold turkey and not ask how old he was, or even what he did for a living. You'd have been proud of me as I chatted and flirted without being my usual judgmental self. Toward the end of the evening I discovered that he worked in the city, and he lived with one of the guys talking to my friends. When he asked for my phone number I gave it to him, and when I got into a taxi with my friends I still didn't know exactly how old he was, or have palpitations about it.
My first friend said that the guy she was talking to was really boring. He lived with his parents, and not in London. She said that she couldn't figure out what he did for a living because he was so dull she couldn't listen. However, she did know that he was twenty-five. My other friend had been talking to the flat mate of the guy I'd given my number to. He was something to do with IT (of course), was also twenty-five and had octopus hands. In fact she'd spent the last hour removing them from various parts of her body. It seemed I was the lucky one.
Anyway, a couple of days later, I received a text from him, asking if I fancied meeting him for a drink.
Reasons to say no: There was roughly a ten year age gap. He might not be so funny when I'm sober (or good-looking). After my ex I vowed to give up city boys.
Reasons to say yes: He was cute; tall, slim, blonde. I think he was funny, (well funny after I'd had a bit to drink anyway). And of course, I was on a mini-rebound. It seemed it would be churlish to say no.
I can't emphasise enough that I was determined not to be negative, (I forbade my inner doubting voice to even speak to me). I got ready, reassured my friends that I would contact them and they'd know where I was at all times, and set off. We met at a bar in London, and yes, he was still definitely cute.
I didn't think about the age thing. He was quite funny; he seemed to find me amusing. As I knew a bit about the City, it was unavoidable that we talk about that a bit. But he didn't bore me with it, (well he might have done but I stopped listening then changed the subject). We had something to eat and then more drinks. He was a good date; insisting on paying and going to the bar whenever we needed a drink. Actually he went to the bar a lot.
I'm not sure the exact moment that it started going wrong. He came back to the table with a bottle of wine and some shots. There's this thing about drunk dating; it's not a good idea. I accepted the wine but declined the shots. He argued with me and I reiterated that there was no way I wanted one. In the end, he looked pissed off and drank them both before going for more. And before I knew it he had gone from being as merry as me to being really quite drunk.
I've never been a huge fan of wrestling, but as I sat there I wished I'd watched a bit more and learnt some moves. He kept lunging for me, hands trying to grab whatever they could find. I valiantly fought him off, (it was so exhausting afterwards I wondered if it could be actually turned into an exercise class: fight off the young lecherous men? Much more effective than Aerobics). I kept telling him to behave himself but he just laughed and it got so bad that I got up to leave, which in itself was like negotiating an obstacle course as he tried to stop me. He wasn't threatening, just drunk. I called my local cab company and waited very near a burly looking bouncer.
My date stumbled up and tried to wrap his arms around me. I stepped backwards and nearer my new best friend, the bouncer. He looked annoyed, but because of the bouncer he didn't do anything. When my cab arrived I went out to get it. He followed me.
'What are you doing?' I asked.
'Coming home with you,' he pouted. I laughed, shook my head and got in. He banged on the window and called me lots of unrepeatable names as we drove off.I called my friend on the way home.
'It was fine until he got drunk, turned into a groper and then tried to come home with me. That'll teach me to go out with a youngster.'
'I'm not sure it's an age thing. Remember Travelodge?' She had a point. But thinking about this guy, he did seem on a mission to drink shots, wrestle, and then he sulked when he didn't get his own way. But it does throw up an interesting question. Are there a lot of men around who think that a good date is getting someone really drunk? For the first half of the evening we'd had a nice conversation. For the second, we'd had anything but conversation. I was tempted to ask him, but of course I didn't, because I wasn't going to call him, and funnily enough, he didn't call me either. But if anyone out there can enlighten me then please do.

Next Week: What on earth is Smirting?