Don’t monkey with me…
This is a true experience but not a TBW experience I hasten to add
and the only disastrous experience of internet dating I have encountered
Quiet Saturday night, nothing on TV; so, Faithless CD, gin and tonic
and laptop all in place I sign into the internet dating site. Soon
after signing in I receive an e-mail, ‘What’s a gorgeous girl like you
doing at home on Saturday night’. The temptation is to reply
‘avoiding bumping into idiots who use dreadful chat up lines’ but,
mellowed by gin and Faithless, and rather flattered to be referred to
as a girl I reply that a night out with girlfriends was called off.
We continue chatting, I look at the profile pics; nice smile, smart
suit, sunglasses. Oh dear the clue was staring me in the face and I
missed it.
Over the next week or so the chatting continues, on msn, on the
dating site, on the phone. More clues which I completely missed, oh
how naive I was then. During one conversation I ask the question
’What do you do?’ ‘I’m a doctor, an anaesthetist’. ‘Oh really, my
mother in law is an anaesthetist’. The fact that the conversation
abruptly changes at this point still doesn’t ring alarm bells. I
decline phone sex thinking if I really want to indulge in that I would
have a premium rate telephone number, sit watching East Enders with
the sound turned down wearing my dressing gown and slippers while
describing my basque and crotchless thong and make my fortune. I do
however agree to meeting for a drink. But where?
I live in the sticks, he lives on the outskirts of London. We
settle on a date for the drink, which happens to be my birthday.
Thats fine, at my age one tends to forget birthdays rather than flag
them as a day to remember. He may be on call so can’t travel too far
afield so suggests we meet at South Mimms Services as there are some
quite good pubs in that area, all within twenty minutes of the hospital
where he works. I agree to the suggestion and, dressed in my latest
acquisition from Monsoon, finishing off the outfit with killer heels I
embark on the hour long drive to South Mimms. As a destination for a
romantic drink South Mimms Services is not high on my list, up until
that point it has been nothing more than a stopping off point for
children desparate for the loo on long car journeys but I am not one to
shy away from new experiences.
I arrive at the services which are teeming with weary travellers and
find a space in the car park. Receive a text, am in the cafe. A
quick check in the vanity mirror reassures me that I look gorgeous so
off I go. As I walk towards the cafe my eyes flick from side to side
watching everyone walking towards me. I see what can only be described
as a vertically challenged monkey walking towards me, eyes fixed on
me. He stops in front of me, my heart sinks and I wonder, in that
instant, why I chose internet dating instead of joining a book club. I
realise why he wears sunglasses in his photo, but am curious as to how
someone can have one eyebrow that stretches across their entire brow,
almost obscuring their eyes.
His opening words ‘Hi wanna cup of tea’ almost stun me into
silence. No ‘Hi, it’s good to meet you’, ‘how was your journey’ or
even, ‘you look nice’. I stare down at him, glad to be wearing
the heels to give me the upper hand and say ‘actually I would prefer a
gin and tonic’. He looks up at me, hand still in pockets, oh did I
forget to mention his hands remain in his pockets throughout the whole
exchange? and says, ‘well I want a cup of tea but if you don’t shall
we just get a room’! I stare down, giving him my best freezing stare
and say ‘Actually I think this has all been a dreadful mistake, I’m
just going to get back in my car and drive home’. I turn round, walk
back to my car and hear him say ‘Sorry I was a disappointment’.
Disappointment! that has to be the understatement of the
decade. Back in the car I put in the miles between South Mimms and
Suffolk as quickly as possible, never has Sunday night TV and gin
seemed so attractive.
So precisely two hours five minutes after leaving the house, I am
back home. My son is surprised to see me but, taking one look at my
face says, ‘oh dear date didn’t go well then’. I don’t go into detail
but just suggest to him that we go to Prezzo for a pizza. He is more
than happy to do that so I end my birthday, not as I expected, having a
cosy drink in a country pub somewhere off the M25 but sitting eating a
caesar salad and listening to my son telling me about his latest art
project. And I am more than happy to be doing that.
By Trish
Comments