The Dating Game. Carolyn Caterer

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СКАЧАТЬ do you think I’ve been doing for the past 25 years?” I wasn’t going to let her get away with that comment, as much as I loved her. Sometimes when a person had been with their partner for a long time they forget that things weren’t always the way they are now and that they too had times in the past when they were despairing of ever finding the right man for them and Erica was no exception. I remembered that, before she met Matt she was dating a pompous chap called Dorian, who treated her appallingly and was always cancelling dates at the last minute, but she was totally enamoured with him, for reasons that no one else could work out and , when he finally admitted he was seeing someone else, she cried for a week. Fortunately that was the week she had her dental check-up and ended up meeting Matt, so Dorian was quickly deleted from her memory, but he still had quite a place in mind for all the heartache he had caused her and all the late night calls I had received from her following all the times he had let her down.

      Looking at her brown curls tumbling around her English rose complexion and her soft grey eyes, I always wondered how Dorian could have been such a complete shit, but was glad that Matt had materialised on the scene at just the right time. Maybe there was something in these books about karma and the laws of attraction that I had not quite fathomed yet? I was jolted out of my thoughts by Erica’s voice as she continued;

      “To a certain point you have been, but then you’ve fallen in love and just ignored your gut instinct which was telling you that these men weren’t right for you. Bloody hell, I and the rest of your friends did try to tell you, but it’s one of those lessons you just have to learn yourself. So, now you know where you were going wrong this is your chance to get on track and finally find the right man for you.”

      “OK, OK! I know you are right, but boy it seems like such hard work and, old habits die hard, Madonna or no Madonna!. Besides which Sean Penn hardly worked out for her did he?”

      “Maybe not but Guy Richie did much better. It will be worth it, just remember that and go out there and do your stuff!”

      And so, with those words thundering around in my head (or was that the excess of red wine I had consumed that evening) I called a taxi to take me home, feeling that maybe things were starting to look up……

      Chapter 3

      Date#2: Paul

      For a second date Paul seemed pretty normal; well at least he did when I peered in through the café window from across the road. This is always a good ploy as, if they look as if they are some psychopathic knife wielding pervert then you can do a runner and text them to say your Mother has been taken seriously ill at short notice (because at this stage they have no idea that she is a feisty seventy year old who is strutting her funky stuff at a local tea dance).

      I had dressed in an outfit that could look quite demure or become far more sexy depending on what the chemistry was between us. My top had a plunging neckline, which Polly informed me would be a real distraction if I wasn’t careful and so I had teamed it up with a pink scarf which I had arranged to ensure that I had control over what was seen by my date.

      The first thing that struck me about Paul was that he actually looked a lot thinner than his photo (and believe me the biggest complaint from men and women on these sites is that the person they meet is twenty years older and sixty pounds heavier) and I did wonder if I had the right man, but as he was the only short haired blonde man in the café then I took the chance that it had to be him and boldly strode up and introduced myself.

      He fidgeted nervously, but managed to order me a coffee and we started to talk. I was calmness personified (remember, I had my Madonna mantra to help me out and the knowledge that surely this had to be a better date than Ian?).

      We had a bit of banter and I remarked that he looked thinner than his photograph, to which he replied:

      “Yes, that photo was taken at the beginning of the year, before I split up with my wife and I’ve lost two stone in weight since then.”

      Already the alarm bells were ringing more loudly than I had anticipated at such an early stage in our meeting and I could see Madonna heading off out of the door and into the nearest raw food café. I decided that I was made of sterner stuff and to reserve judgement until I had found out more details. Just because he had split up with his wife, did not necessarily mean that he was weighed down with emotional baggage, although my gut instinct did tell me that he was probably sporting at least two large suitcases.

      “So what happened to your marriage then?” Yes, I know, why on earth did I stay and ask that question?

      “I discovered that my wife had been having an affair for three years”

      “Yikes, that must have been a bit of a shock. Who was it with; the milkman?!”

      “Yes” By now his eyes were misting up and I wanted a tidal wave to carry me out of the café as soon as possible. My humorous remark had completely backfired and I seemed to have plunged him into a state of despair. His shoulders slumped and he looked downcast. I couldn’t help but feel responsible following my inane chatter and decided to offer him a heartfelt apology for my crass statement, which far from lightening the mood had just served to cause him misery.

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so flippant. The milkman, well I guess it can’t get much worse than that then eh?”

      “It can when he also happens to be your best mate.”

      Shit, shit, shit! I couldn’t believe this conversation. It was as if I’d suddenly acquired a sixth sense and not in a good way! I was starting to become paranoid about asking him anything in case I put my great big foot in it yet again. I searched my brain for a remark that was neither vacuous nor likely to cause even further emotional pain.

      “So how many women have you been out with since you’ve been on the website?”

      “You’re the first and I must admit I was really nervous about meeting you, but I’m not any more as you seem really nice.”

      Oh no, my gut instinct (and Madonna) were both on overdrive as I realised that this was definitely a rebound guy with so much emotional baggage I swear he was shrinking under the weight of it all. I just knew that I had to get myself out of there and make sure that I didn’t offer him any false hope or a shoulder to cry on for that matter. I breathed in deeply and prepared myself to give him the PBO (polite brush off).

      “Well Paul, I think you are doing very well for a first date and my advice to you is to get out there and just meet as many women as possible so that you actually look forward to it and get back into the dating groove, so to speak.”

      “Oh” He looked crestfallen and I had to steel myself not to give in and agree to a second date, which I knew would be a bad thing to do and that I would regret it if I did. His big brown puppy dog eyes looked forlornly across the table at me as he shifted in his seat. It took all my strength not to give in and suggest a second meeting, but I kept reminding myself that you cannot date someone simply because you feel sorry for him and I knew that was all I felt. There was a distinct sadness about him and a lack of joi de vivre, which was easily explained by his circumstances, but he needed therapy, not a girlfriend and I wondered if I would be overstepping the mark by suggesting that counselling would perhaps be a better option than a dating site at this moment in his life. Common sense snapped back at me that offering advice like this was even more likely to have him hanging on to me like a drowning man and, СКАЧАТЬ