Sunday, 15 November 2009

5 Off-Side

I went to Third Base with a boy today.

Now before you start calling me a floozie and thinking I've let some random guy put his hand up my top, I should explain that bases are different in online dating world.

First Base - refers to the initial emails you send each other on the dating website. Back and forward, back and forward, back and forward, until one of you suggests you go to.........

Second Base - which is MSN. This is where you get to have a virtual conversation, so can suss out if you make good banter together. You might converse for a few days - more if one of you is agoraphobic and isn't actually looking for a date, just someone to talk to. (Yes, yet another thing that has actually happened to me) But if you both like each others chat, you might get to......

Third Base - which is the real conversation. On the phone. Then....

Fourth Base - is the actual date. And....

Fifth Base - is letting them put their hand up your top.


Anyway, my guy skipped second base and went straight to third. Forward. I liked it. Good start.

Only thing is that when the call came I wasn't really expecting it. I was in my pyjamas and for some reason it is hard to talk to someone you don't know while wearing pyjamas. You know what I mean don't you?

I also hadn't saved his number so when unknown digits came up, I wasn't actually sure it was him. Did I ask him if it was him? Noooooooo! Of course not! That would be far too easy! Instead I just tried to suss it out by things he said. Like a fun game. He wasn't playing it very well though. His clues were rubbish. Saying stuff that anybody could say to me. For god sake give me something to go on!

Eventually I realised it was him. And the way I realised? It was because the conversation was as awkward as can be.

We'd made the mistake of trying to be smart while in First Base and our emails back and forward, back and forward, were about Barbie and Ken, rather than ourselves (you probably had to be there...) We thought we were oh so clever, trying to out-funny each other and ignoring the boring chat about hobbies and why we were on the site. Hmmm. Yeah, really clever. Clever until it came to the phonecall and we had absolutely nothing to go on.

He asked how I was? I asked how he was?. He asked what I'd been up to? I paused. Now did he mean what had I been up to today? Or did he mean in my whole life?

It was hard work. There were silences. And they were not comfortable ones.

Finally though! A breakthrough! He asked what I do for work. I said I work in TV (don't you dare tell him about the medical secretary thing. It doesn't count. Just like my night working in a Gentlemans Club does not maketh me a stripper.) He asked if working in TV was glamorous. I laughed. The ice had been broken! I could now regale him with interesting stories about TV. It would be fine and he'd think what a great conversationalist I was!

That was the idea and it could have worked. Were it not for the fact I went off plan and instead told him about a job I did in America. I know this sounds like a good start and you imagine this story should involve glamour. My friend Ed also thought so because he actually texted while I was on the shoot asking if I was doing something exciting and glamorous. I'd replied 'yes, very' (waste of a 60 pence text quite frankly) and left it that. What I didn't want to tell Ed, (and what I probably shouldn't have told my Third Base partner but unfortunately did) was that at the very moment...... the glamorous thing I was doing......was......waiting for a baby to shit.

What in god's name did I tell him that for?!

Did I explain that I was on a programme about attachment parenting? Did I tell him about elimination communication? Did I explain to him how some mums don't believe in nappies? Did I tell him these mums say their child will make a certain expression when they need to 'go'? Did I tell him the mums say they see this expression and rush them to the toilet? Did I tell him we were waiting to prove or disprove one mum's claim that she could do this, for a very important documentary?

Did I heck.

No, I just left it at the conversation-stopping line that I worked on a programme involving baby shit.

The phonecall went back to downhill, from there.

Doesn't look like I'll be getting to Fourth Base anytime soon.