Story From A Diary

I found a diary last weekend whilst clearing out my spare room. I don’t usually read diaries once I have written them, but the sense of curiosity had got the better of me. What caught my attention was the story of my first attempt at internet dating. It was a memorable evening, for more than one reason...

I was 5 minutes late to the arranged meeting place at Leicester Square tube station and found my date looking less than happy. She was a petite American girl of 30 and was checking her watch. “Hi” I said. “Hi, you’re late” she said with her arms folded. “Oh, sorry about that, I was engrossed in reading and went way past my stop”. “Well I’ve done that before myself, but even so..” She can’t be serious, I thought, it’s 5 minutes, not 50. I asked her if she’d like a drink. “Yes that would be nice” she said.

We walked to a pub just off Shaftsbury Avenue. It was a cosy place with sofas upstairs and a clientele that was slightly less touristy than a number of bars in the area. We had just ordered drinks and were standing at the bar. She was in the middle of talking about her job as a project manager in a bank, when I accidentally yawned. “Am I boring you?” she demanded. The realisation that I had just yawned in her face suddenly dawned on me. Shit, “I’m sorry” I said. “I was at a close friend’s birthday party last night and it didn’t finish until very late” (8am to be honest). “Hmm ok” she said, sounding unsure.

We moved to one of the sofas and carried on our conversation. She started to talk about how she was finding life in London, having recently moved here from Manhattan. Now I like Manhattan and so we found a bit of common ground. From a bit of a shaky start, this didn’t seem to be going too badly.

A girl walked over and asked if the sofa opposite was free. “Er, yeah, sure, help yourself” I said. “Thanks”, she said with a smile as another girl and a guy joined her. I turned back to my date who had now crossed her legs, folded her arms, and was checking her watch. “Er, are you ok?” I asked, sensing hostility. She snorted. “Well you’re obviously only here with me because you can’t go home with her!” The girl on the sofa overheard and raised her eyebrows. I was stumped. “Huh? – She asked me if she and her friends could sit on the sofa, I said yes. What’s the matter?” I’d hoped that she might be reasonable, but she simply raised her tone. “Well nothing, if it wasn’t for the way you were flirting with her!” I had never heard anyone use the word flirting with such vitriol. “Are you serious? She asked a question, I answered, that was it” I said, incredulously. She looked at me, legs still crossed and arms still folded. “Well I’m not going to have sex with you now!” she spat. The girl on the sofa coughed into her drink.

“I’m gonna go” she said, standing up. “Really? I thought we were just starting to hit it off.” “Are you kidding me? I’m not sure I want to see you again” she retorted, zipping up her jacket. I was tempted to make a W with my fingers and thumbs. That would have been too much of a red rag though and instead I mouthed “WHATEVER” as she reached down to pick up her handbag. “Well are you at least going to walk me to the station?” “What do you mean, at least. You’re the one who’s leaving early”. I said, standing up. “Oh, so I’m walking on my own then am I?” Bile was oozing from her every pore. I sat down again slowly and smiled at her before confirming “Yes, pretty much”. She turned and seconds later she was gone.

The girl on the sofa leaned forward. “Excuse me, but I don’t think she was all there . You’re probably well rid of that one”. Her two friends agreed with her. “Would you like to join us?” “Thanks” I said and for the next two hours we talked dating horror stories, relationships and politics – not sure how we moved onto the last topic, but it was a lively discussion. We got to the end of the evening and the girl on the sofa and I exchanged numbers. We are still friends to this day and I have mentioned her a few times before in this blog. Regular readers will know her as G, and this was the bizarre tale of how we first met.