The Dating Game. Carolyn Caterer

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СКАЧАТЬ to see how quickly they could serve the customers as it took a mere three minutes before I was back at the table with the drinks.

      Greg took his spoon and stirred his coffee very slowly (was he trying to look seductive I wondered?) and then leant towards me with the strong hint of a leer, which was only exceeded by the worst halitosis I had experienced in about ten years.

      We sat in an awkward silence while I willed him to say something, or I would be unable to resist asking him who his dentist was, which would surely be met with a confused look and probably no understanding at all as to what I was hinting at.

      Finally I came up with a question that I hoped would not betray my complete lack of interest and at the same time hoped he didn’t ask why I was drinking my scalding hot coffee so quickly in order that I wouldn’t have to explain that first degree burns seemed a better option than another fifty-six minutes and fourteen seconds in his company.

      “So, you work in IT; tell me about that”

      I wish I could remember his answer, all that I can say is that the dullness of his conversation in terms of content was more than matched by the monotony of his voice. I felt myself almost drifting into unconsciousness and was aware that my eyes were starting to roll in preparation to falling asleep and crashing into my coffee cup which seemed to be smirking at me in the way the foam swirled around on the surface.

      Digging my nails into my hands I willed myself to look remotely interested, but this seemed to perplex him (probably because my expression looked more like that of someone suffering from a severe case of constipation) and his speech slowed to a drone that would I realised be a useful form of torture for errant school children. The mere threat of a detention with Greg would surely reduce truancy by at least eighty percent.

      “So basically blah blah the number of bytes that would normally be needed and that means blah blah” Went on Greg as I leant back in my chair to avoid being subjected to any more of his dog breath (apologies to any dogs out there).

      I decided that the least I could do would be to engage him in some more diverse conversation before making my excuses to leave, at this rate within fifteen minutes of us sitting down at the table.

      “So Greg, never been married or had children, either of those things actually on your agenda?” Good one Jen. This should scare him off if he is a commitment-phobe and thinks you are just dying to walk up the aisle.

      His rather sallow skin (too many nights on the old PC was my guess) started to turn a heated shade of red and he coughed nervously.

      “Um actually I am divorced with a thirteen year old son.”

      I’m now looking at him while doing a good impersonation of a goldfish as my mouth proceeds to open and close while nothing will come out. I resort to taking a mouthful of coffee and finally manage to throw out my next question.

      “So, how come none of that is mentioned on your profile nor did you say anything to me about it in any of your emails?”

      “It wasn’t a happy time of my life and I’d rather forget about it to be honest.”

      “Forget about it? You have a teenage son for God’s sake!” My words come out somewhat louder than intended and a number of heads at adjacent tables spun around in the expectation of a dramatic scene unfurling before their very eyes.

      “Yes but I don’t really see him so it’s not as if he has much to do with my life and there didn’t seem any point in mentioning him.”

      More goldfish impressions were coming from me as I stared incredulously at the man who could see his own offspring as such an inconvenience. At least this gave me all the ammunition I needed to terminate the conversation in record time.

      I lowered my voice and began to speak.

      “So , what you are actually telling me is that your profile is based on a pack of lies.” I hissed across the table in a voice which Joan Collins would have been proud of.

      “Not lies exactly, more a case of being what is known as economical with the truth. “ Came back his reply.

      “Economical with the truth must go down as the understatement of the year! Did he really think that he could get away with those sort of lies and then be instantly forgiven when found out; halitosis or no halitosis, do you think that is why his wife divorced him?!”

      “Oh Anna stop it you are completely incorrigible.” I started to laugh and almost dropped the ‘phone as I relaxed on my sofa with a glass of chardonnay and a packet of Tyrell’s crisps as a reward for enduring a bad date.

      “So what happened next?”

      “I just told him that I really didn’t see any future for us and, unless he wanted a repeat performance from his next internet meeting I suggested he came clean on his profile and fessed up to the reality or I would consider complaining to the website owner.”

      “Well done, what did he say to that?”

      “I have no idea.”

      “Due to the fact you were running out of the café by now?”

      “Not really, more due to the fact that I received a resounding round of applause from the tables who had been ear wigging in on the latter part of our conversation.”

      “Ooh how very exciting!”

      “Mmm that is one way of looking at it but I think I will be avoiding that café for the next few weeks as the staff will now be watching out for what the next date will bring to the party. I did wonder if they would ask me not to come back, but they were all looking at me as if they felt sorry for me having to go through the whole internet dating process so wouldn’t make my life any worse by banning me from coming into the shop in future. Plus I imagine I provided good entertainment in the middle of their rather dull afternoon.”

      “So, another one bites the dust” said Anna.

      “It certainly looks that way, but let’s consider this one a lucky escape.”

      “Mind you it must have had shades of Jane Austen about it, wouldn’t you say?”

      “What?!!!” I began to choke and splutter on my wine.

      “Oh Jen get real. She may not have mentioned it, but do you really think Mr Darcy had pearly whites in the style of Tom Cruise?” It was almost two centuries ago and personal hygiene, whilst improving, certainly wasn’t of the standard we have nowadays as I don’t think detergents had been invented had they?”

      “Crikey, how come you are suddenly an expert on the washing habits of the people of the early nineteenth century?”

      “I’m not! But it is so easy when reading these romantic tales to forget the fact that they had no hot running water, central heating, kettles, washing machines, tampons….”

      “OK, OK, I think you have more than made your point so we’ll leave it there for the moment.”

      “So СКАЧАТЬ