Let’s divulge into every date and manifest better ones.
On the scale of bad dates, this wasn’t the worst. I knew quite instantly that this would be nothing more than one date.
15 minutes after we were meant to meet at a bar in his area (this is important because in London you are either in your area or far from home; there’s no in-between), he shows up, and it becomes very apparent that he’s had a shower. Now for me, if cleanliness and being on time were on a scale, I would put being ‘on time’ as more important than being clean, but maybe that’s just me. Anyway, he was late. I got an extra 15 minutes to knit and drink beer in a huge bar, which was actually kind of preferable to the date. Maybe I should just do that more?
Well, he comes in, gets a drink, and we sit down and start to talk. His bio on the app said that he hates small talk, and I point this out when he starts asking about my job. He laughs and then asks me about my kinks instead. I allow it because I asked for more interesting conversation from a man I don’t know. I tell him that I am not comfortable answering those kinds of questions within the first 10 minutes of a date. I explain that I think kinks, wants and needs are best when they are discovered through intimacy and pillow talk, and he looks disappointed. He then asks me if I am a good kisser, and I tell him that I believe that I am, as I haven’t had any complaints, and he leans over and asks if he should check. I decline and wonder how his dates usually go. I change the subject to ask him about his self-proclaimed spirituality and beliefs in life in outer space, but he seems coy to talk about it, so I divulge my own theories, and the conversation starts flowing a bit easier.
It is by no means a good date, but it is in no way a terrible date either.
As I finish my second beer and declare that it is time for me to go, he puts his arm around me, and I don’t normally know what to do when that happens. I always end up tensing up and feeling like a trapped animal, and this time was no different, but he didn’t seem to notice.
A five-minute walk towards the station, and he stops to let me know that this is where he lives; this is important, because this man was 15 minutes late to the function. He lets me know that he has wine and weed at his place and that I am more than welcome to come in for a bit.
In my head I go over the evening, short as it was, and try and remember when I have signalled an interest in going home with him, but nothing stands out. I admire his gusto but decline. He goes in for a kiss, and I swerve. This happens twice, and then I leave for the station.
When I get on the bus, I delete his profile; no explanation seems needed.
Autumn dating has begun.
Leave a comment