As we had a little Covid breather over the summer I thought I get a little date in here or there and of course I feel obliged to update you on them. I was torn with this one if I should call it the interview one rather than talking about a rock star, but as the latter was the crowning glory of my interaction with this particular member of the opposite sex, I thought it more apt.
I was reasonably attracted to this guy, although not really head over heels, but after a good friend had been giving me a little lecture about not dismissing guys too quickly but rather giving them a chance I thought it might be time for a change of habits. So, I dressed up in my finest and jumped on the tram for the quick ride to our date. First impressions were not too great because he was late. I don’t like lateness, let alone date lateness. You can take your time another time.
We went to a very cute little place with a hidden court yard and while I was checking out the menu he told me that he wasn’t going to eat anything but I could if I really felt like it. Erm… what? If he thought I would be polite and decline, no chance my friend. I expect to be fed so I ordered. An apple tarte flambee in case you were wondering what tickled my fancy. He had mentioned before that he was smoking, although very rarely, but since sitting here, several fags had already been lit up. Not promising. Neither was our conversation. It wasn’t so much that as an interview. And it was me applying for the coveted position of next girl-friend it seemed. Now I don’t mind getting asked some questions, but this was a different level. Digging and very, very personal. Why I had split up with my exes. Why I didn’t make it work. Did I have issues with commitment? Which in my opinion is a bit too close to comfort if not offensive as first date talk. We all have a history and considering he was divorced as well, I could have asked the same questions. My answers must have been obviously demonstrating my displeasure although it took a bit for him to cotton on.
We left shortly after I had finished my dinner, for which he kindly interrupted his smoking habit and he decided to show me one of the prettier parts of the place, a small hill from which you could overlook the town. It is a little laborious to climb a hill in heels but I did manage. If either of us hoped this romantic setting we had to share with a rather large number of other couples would help move things along either way, I have to report that was not really the case. This time our chat turned to him and his own tits up marriage and not only was I getting the distinct feeling that there were still a few unresolved issues going on, but the way he spoke about his ex was in a strange way dismissive and desperate alike. He then proceeded to tell me that under normal circumstances he wouldn’t even consider meeting a woman like myself, considering how much baggage I had. But he decided against better judgement to give me a chance. Right. Quite the charm offensive to say the least. Climbing down the hill again, we went for one last drink before he offered to drive me home. I was really not prepared for the last chapter of this date though.
Once we got going he put some music on. Without the lyrics though, because he decided to do some karaoke for me. And as he didn’t know the song that well, googled the lines on his phone and was reading it off from there, having it safely placed between his legs. All this whilst already driving. Luckily my disbelief over this sit com situ for the most part overrode my terrifiedness because I really did not want to loose my life over a shitty rock song rip off. Thankfully our ride was over in a flash – just like my life before my eyes for parts of it – and against the odds I was delivered safely at my destination. A solid contender for world’s most awkward hug followed as a good bye and I escaped this budding music master.