Monday, 30 November 2009
It's a very strange experience going out with someone you've met online.
You don't have a mutual friend to discuss to start you off. Like you would if it was a blind date.
In fact you don't actually know if you have anything mutual to discuss.
You don't even get the chance to have a proper look at your date...
I know that sounds a bit weird, but think about it... when you are out in a group you can give them the proper once over while they are in conversation with someone else. You can even make licking motions to make your friends laugh if you think your date is lovely.
When someone is sitting in front of you though, and it is just you two, you can't properly look at them. It just comes across as staring. Then they think you are weird.
Instead, in online dating dates, you have to look at them without looking at them. All the while trying to fill that space that is meant for conversation. Silences do not work on internet-born dates. They are more than just awkward...they are excruciating.
So, feeling slightly unfeminine after taking on the role of the man, and being the chattier of the two of us, I decided to take the opportunity to be the girl and satisfy that weird fable that females talk a lot...
So, I talked. Ohmigod, I talked. I talked for Britain. No subject was out of bounds.
'Could somebody please get a gag for the girl with the builder's haircut. She won't shut up.'
I talked so much I tired myself out.
I got respite thankfully, (or maybe he did?) when Mr Third Base went to the toilet. I took the chance to check my phone. There was a text from my flatmate. Well?
I was still replying when Mr Third Base came back from the toilet. I apologised for being on my phone. He said it was ok and he'd take the opportunity to check his phone.
Oh, he had a text too.
Ohmigod please don't let it be from my flatmate.
Yes, my flatmate had insisted I leave Mr Third Base's number for him. Although I'd made him swear only to use it if he thought I'd been murdered, I knew his promises were empty.
I mean this is the guy that walked into the living room, saw me sitting with a male friend and despite not knowing who he was, or his relationship to me, asked if he was one of my internet dates.
Subtle is not a word I'd use to describe my flatmate.
Please don't let him have texted my date.
Phew. The text wasn't from him.
Finished dinner. Had another drink. Had been all very pleasant. What a nice guy. I was ready to go home though. It was a school night after all.
'What time is your train?' I asked.
'Not for another hour.'
Get through the next hour. Walk him to the train station (well may as well keep to the theme of the date, with me taking on the role of the man...) and bade each other farewell.
Get home. Tired and drained from talking so much.
Flatmate wants all the gossip.
I didn't really have any.
Wants all the details.
I didn't really have any.
Asks me what my date was wearing (I don't think in a weird, 'what was he wearing?' leery, way, just in a curious, way. I hope anyway....)
I had no idea.
I realised he can't have made that much of an impression if I didn't even remember what he had on.
Also realised I'd just spent a very long evening with a stranger. And apart from not being very memorable, the only thing I had to show for it, was a lighter purse.
Decided there and then to invent a new dating rule...
1/ Always, always, always go on a pre-date first - It won't tire you out as much, and at least the most you will lose is the time it takes to have a cup of coffee.