So I met a guy on a mutual friend’s Facebook thread. He said something vaguely witty, I made a comment about his name and before you know it a friend request was in my inbox. Strangely enough when I saw his pictures I realised that we had met 2 years prior during my drink-a-thon sex hay days. I even had a photo of the two of us together courtesy of Facebook. Was this serendipity? I brushed off my dusty Serendipity DVD and looked for the signs. Hmmm….maybe not. He worked in clubs. We were bound to have met at some point right? I’m just surprised I was sober enough to remember it. Besides black London is so frigging small. Forget 6 there is 1.5 degrees of separation now.
I should have suspected it didn’t bode well when the mutual friend refused to get involved. He invited me along and I agreed to attend his friend’s concert at Sketch. Admittedly this was more out of curiosity to see if Sketch still insisted on egg shaped Mork and Mindy toilets but he wasn’t to know this. Sadly the toilets are still there. Not wanting to push I suggested we eat before Sketch cos the portions there aren’t generous. We agreed on Nandos.
I saw him and thought he was cute and we got on fabulously on the phone so how bad a date could it be? When we met we went for our pre- concert meal and so began his need to share every thought that was in his head at that present moment. “Hmmm, you’re not as glamorous or as sensual as I thought you would be.” Bear in mind this was a cold night in London and I was still dressed in coat, cap and 2 scarves I wasn’t sure how much sensuality he expected me to project? I forced a smile and almost found myself apologising for not making more of an effort but then caught myself. No one disses my red baker boy cap!
Later as I returned to the table he complimented my walk. “I love your swagger. You went one way your butt went the other. It’s like they were 2 different people.” Was this a rap song that I didn’t know? By this time I had braved the cold and taken off the coat. Apparently what lay underneath met with his approval? By now I had decided that any man who thought talking about my looks and my butt was not a match for me. We hadn’t even gotten to Sketch yet! It was going to be a very long night. And what man orders 2 lots of potatoes as sides?
At Sketch I bought the drinks. I’m not one to take advantage on a date. I left a tip and he insisted I take my change. Reluctantly I picked up one of the £3 on the tip tray and thought why was he so concerned with my money? Later when he bought the drinks he ordered tap water for himself and asked me to lend him a £1. I had only ordered a juice? Apparently he had left his credit card in his coat in the cloakroom. I wasn’t sure they were going to let him use his ‘credit card’ for such a small order but I didn’t want to embarrass him. Good job I’d taken that £1 I guess.
As the butt comments kept on coming I stopped being annoyed and started to see the humour in the situation. Here was a man who couldn’t lie or pretend to be anyone but who he was. Don’t get me wrong, we were never going to be a couple but I could appreciate a certain charm with his dating naiveté. He ticked the honesty box. One out of 10 isn’t bad I guess.
© Chelsea Black