Receive my first text from Fishy.
Is it too late to call you?x
I know he's not a fan of the pre-date call, but I'd like to chat to him before we meet. For a start to tell him that I'm Scottish. Just incase he has a thing against haggis or something. I already know that he'll appreciate my tight-fisted side.
I'm really short on free minutes, but I worry that it will look particularly stingy if I text back and say he can call me now. Plus he probably won't. Grudgingly I phone him.
He's laughing when he answers. Probably in delight. Tells me that he could call me back but doesn't imagine this converstion will last very long anyway.
I realise that there is a distinct lack of a scouse accent. Fishy isn't originally from Liverpool. I'm not from Manchester. We are like two big internet dating frauds. I just hope that I haven't been fooled in other ways, and that he is in fact 67. Or blogging from jail.
I was going to tell you what a lovely voice he has. That's until he started doing crap impressions of my accent. Wouldn't mind so much if he'd gone for the Sean Connery, 'Mishhh Moneypenny' version, but instead he sounds more like Mrs Doubtfire.
We start talking about what we are going to do on the date. Says he'll decide. He says it is the man's job. Good boy.
I find it hard to give up the control completely though, so start tossing around a few ideas. Suggest we do something a bit unusual, maybe like bungee jumping.
Bungee jumping?! What the hell did I say that for? Sometimes I need to tape up my mouth. I'd never want to go bungee jumping on a first date. I pray he doesn't go for that...
He doesn't. And the reason he doesn't, is because Fishy is scared of heights.
'Houston, we have a big, fat problem.'
I live in a tower. My apartment is about 460ft in the air. Two of my walls are windows.
Well...looks like if this works out between us there will be no slumber parties at mine.
He starts trying to find things that we do have in common. Asks me the names of my parents. Says his have the same names. Yeah right! Wonder if he'd be playing that card if I'd said Ermintrude and Goliath?
Chat flows really easily. There's a lot of laughing on both sides. We talk about our bad habits. He says something rude. I laugh. Ask him to write that I didn't find it funny. Just incase my mum is reading. He promises he will.
We talk about our online dating experiences. He laughs about the guy emailing me to tell me about his small appendage. Fishy says he doesn't mention his itchy anus until at least the third date.
We start to say our goodbyes. Don't think either of us want to. Just have to because the time has become Stupid O'Clock.
I check how long we spoke for when I get off the phone.
1 hour and 19 minutes!!
My 1 hour and 19 minutes bill. He's so buying the drinks when we go out.
Read Fishy's (no doubt innacurate) version of our chat here >>