The Dating Game. Carolyn Caterer

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СКАЧАТЬ coped in these kind of situations when the older partner was referring to things that happened before their other half had even been born, I mean it would be like the conversations you heard your grandparents and their friends having about the war wouldn’t it? I made a mental note not to mention the Falklands conflict.

      Things seemed to fall quite flat and I began to look forward to getting back to the comfort of my home. The waiter seemed to take forever to come and take our money and was obviously desperate to find out exactly what our relationship was. Fortunately Chris did not have the body of an Adonis, well it didn’t look that way from where I was sitting. He seemed to have that look that so many post university students have; probably caused by never learning to cook properly and so surviving on takeaways and ready meals. I always feel that they are poised on the edge of lardiness and have no idea what is going to hit them when they turn thirty and realise that an hour of football on a Sunday morning after a curry and a load of beers the night before is no longer going to keep them at even a decent level of fitness. Maybe his job would keep him active enough to delay this phenomenon, but I wasn’t so sure, judging from the way he cleaned up his plate with the entire bread basket that had been placed before us.

      We left the restaurant and said a friendly but final goodbye and I knew that neither of us would be in contact again. It wasn’t anything to do with actively disliking each other, but the spark had definitely failed to ignite after the Clapton revelation.

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      “That has to be the best one yet!” Was Aleks’s giggling response to my tale one evening when I had gone over to a dinner party.

      “Yes, it was rather funny I have to admit, even if it did finish the date off for good and left no prospect for any future dates either by showing him just how old I was.”

      “I just don’t understand why you would point it out to him in the first place Jen. I mean are you trying to sabotage yourself or something?”

      “Honestly Aleks, if he doesn’t have a sense of humour about that then he really isn’t the right one for me is he? Let’s at least be honest!”

      “True. Anyway I’m not the one to criticise as I think you’re very brave to do the internet dating thing at all. I know I couldn’t do it, so I have to congratulate you for you giving it a go, especially when you consider the quality of your dates so far, which, let’s face it, have on the whole been more than a little disappointing.”

      “Of course you could do it; the thing is that you have never had to, being a complete man magnet!!”

      “I cannot deny that. The thing is, the magnetism never seems to last for long before I am back out there searching. It would be nice to meet someone and actually be in it for the long term rather than wondering when it is going to all come to an end because I get bored with the very thing that attracted me in the first place. I know you talk about good old fashioned male manners, but I seem to attract Neanderthal man in disguise. At first he seems pretty normal but then turns into this complete couch potato chauvinist who expects me to cook and clean for him and then give him a blow job during Match of the Day.”

      I couldn’t help laughing at this scenario, until I caught the look on Aleks’s face.

      “Oh so you think I am joking do you? Believe me that was a very good description of my relationship with Nick. He was such a bastard and it took me eighteen months to realise what he was really like, namely a farting nose-picking idiot who had no idea about the practicalities of living like a human being; he seemed to think that clothes and dishes made their way to the kitchen to be washed by the fairy on front of the packaging.”

      “Oh do stop exaggerating!”

      “I am not exaggerating. I got so fed up with him that I made sure I had enough clean clothes to last me for 3 weeks and then did no washing at all. After a week he seemed completely surprised that there were no clean shirts in the wardrobe and even more bemused when I asked him if he had washed any! In the end I decided he would never change his ways so he had to go. I want to be in a partnership and not in a slave/master relationship and I don’t want any smart comments about that last statement.”

      I was beginning to wonder if there was any hope for woman kind at this rate, but I took heart from the fact that I had plenty of friends who had good relationships or great marriages.

      My Mum had certainly not seemed to be too worried as I headed through my twenties, at the lack of any constant boyfriend and kept reminding me that she hadn’t got married until she was a geriatric twenty six years of age. Then I turned twenty seven and she seemed a bit lost as to what to say. In the meantime my Dad kept dropping hints about my biological clock (where on earth did he read about that and why on earth was he talking to me about it?) and how nice it would be to have some, gulp, grandchildren.

      I did try to explain that it was the twenty first century and I was a woman of independent means (even this argument was starting to sound a bit sad to me) and so I didn’t need to conform and produce six kids to keep the economy on track, no matter what the chancellor might say.

      You can imagine my surprise when at the age of thirty my parents announced their divorce. I know that they had little in common even when they had first married, but all the same I was somewhat taken aback at the news. It seemed to stem from the fact that my Dad wanted to go and live in Spain when he retired and my Mum was having none of it. Finally after much talking and, when no compromise could be reached, Dad headed off to their Villa, leaving my Mum with the marital home. All in all one of the most amicable splits I had come across.

      But for me, worse was to come on my fortieth birthday: there was I having a great time at Polly’s, who had agreed to host the event when a call came through on my mobile.

      “Wow Dad, great to hear from you and glad you managed to track me down…..” I wandered out in the back garden for better reception and to have a quick chat and tell him all about my day, fully prepared to defend yet another twelve months without a ring on my finger and a man on my arm. Thing is, the conversation didn’t turn out like as I had planned at all.

      Five minutes later I was walking back into the lounge, in what can only be described as a state of shock and, disbelief.

      “Crikey Jen what on earth is going on? “ demanded Erica.

      “Don’t tell me your Dad is ill?” Anna asked, a look of concern etched into her face.

      “No, no, nothing like that. In fact he is as fit as the proverbial fiddle” came my reply.

      “So has he spent all his money on some failed enterprise then?” Aleks tried to lighten things up a bit.

      I shook my head slowly, not sure I was able to speak and wondering if I was in a dream or an alcoholic stupor, except that I knew I had only consumed a glass of champagne the whole evening so that meant that what my Dad had said was absolutely real.

      “Jen you are starting to worry us now, what on earth is it?” demanded Polly who had rushed in from the kitchen after seeing the look on my face as I was walking back towards the house.

      “My Dad is getting married….” Even as the words fell from my lips I wasn’t sure I could really believe them.

      “Married?!” was the unified response from my girlfriends.

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