36 Mr Trafford Centre - Chapter 2

So there I was walking through the Trafford Centre with a stud muffin. A hunk of spunk. A hot piece of ass. Basically the most gorgeous guy you have ever seen. Phwoar!!

Well you would think so, wouldn't you? The fact he abandoned girls because they weren't up to his required standard, must mean he is something special himself?

If truth be told he was packing a few extra pounds. Being a guy though he'd get away with saying he was 'stocky.'

As for complaining about his dates not looking like their photos, I couldn't tell from his photo that he had a slight squint in one eye. Or a limp for that matter.

I realise that it could sound like I was on a date with Captain Hook. Please don't imagine that though, because inevitably when you start thinking of pirates, Jack Sparrow will pop into your head. I can assure you that Mr Trafford Centre was no Johnny Depp.

I was actually a bit concerned about his limp. It seemed like it was a new injury and he was still working out how to walk on it. I asked him how he got it.

'I did it years ago when I was mountain biking.'

'Oh right.' So not new at all. 'Does it affect you when you mountain bike now?'

'I don't know, I haven't been since.'

'Oh. What about when you ski? You said in your profile you love skiing. I used to go skiing. I went to France and Austria...'

'Yeah I went skiing once a couple of years back. On a dry slope..it was great!'

Couldn't believe I'd actually questioned whether I was outdoorsy enough for this guy. My walk to Harvey Nicks to participate in my hobby of cocktail drinking, probably means I'm more active than him. Liar, liar, your bum's on fire.

I ask him whether he wants to go for a drink first or go straight to a restaurant.

'You decide. The girls I've been out with before couldn't make decisions and it got on my nerves so I decided that on this date I'm leaving everything up to you.'

He was really getting on my wick.

I decide we should go straight for dinner. Get this date over as quickly as possible. (See some girls can make decisions. Wise decisions.)

We order and start chatting. The usual stuff. He tells me that his ambition is to go to America. I presume he means to live. No, he just means on holiday.

Now maybe I'm wrong but isn't an ambition something that you have to strive to achieve? Something you have to put blood, sweat and tears into? Something that you might never happen unless you work at it? (Like mine, which is to be able to do chin-ups. Ain't never gonna happen...)

Surely if you want to go on holiday to America, you just save some money and go? I mean, I've fulfilled his ambition three times.

I suppose there's always the possibility that he is a criminal...

'We're having a great time aren't we?' he says. 'Aren't we having a right laugh?...What about when we first met and I pretended to be a fat guy? Ha ha!'

I make a mental note that I must stop that bad habit I have. That habit of making the best of a situation and always trying to enjoy myself, because it seems to be giving him the wrong impression.

He tells me that he's checked the trains between Manchester and his town and they're frequent so I'll be able to see him easily. He suggests I go to his next weekend. Says I can stay over if I want.

Not in this lifetime.

Asks me if I have any pets. Quite glad he's moved onto safer chat territory but realise he hasn't paid much attention to things I've said though.

'Well no, because I live in an apartment, am a freelancer and am often working away. Pets wouldn't really fit into my life.'

You know how there is that myth that its always the girls that are the keen, clingy ones that move too fast? Not in mine and Mr Trafford's relationship...

'I'm thinking of getting a dog but don't worry, if we go away together for a weekend, I'll get my brother to look after it.'

A weekend away? Together? Hardly!

The bill comes. He pays. Good. At least there was one positive point to the date.

He gets up. 'I'm just going to the toilet. Don't worry, I will come back. Ha ha!'

Now was my chance. To do it for my sisters. To leave him, like he left those girls...

I'm sorry. I just couldn't.

I had to do something though...something to make him feel even a little, like they must have felt...

I shout at him across the restaurant, 'Actually now you've paid the bill I'm not too bothered whether you come back or not.'

So he didn't.

The End.


I wish! Of course he came back. He's so thick-skinned he thought I was joking.

And then since the date there have been plenty of texts from him. Texts saying what a great time we had. Texts reminding me what a hilarious joke he played on me. And texts asking me if I want to go over to his on our second date.

I have replied to him, but I can only presume his phone is faulty cause it seems like the 'n' and the 'o' letters just aren't registering.

29 Mr Trafford Centre

I wasn't going to tell you about my most recent date.

And the reason I wasn't going to tell you, is because I'm embarrassed about it.

And the reason I'm embarrassed about it, is because the venue for the date was the Trafford Centre.

To be honest, I wasn't entirely convinced that the guy in question was for me. Or rather, I wasn't convinced that I was the right girl for him. His online profile listed sports that he was into and they were all outdoorsy. Things like mountain biking, climbing, skiing and canoeing. Now I'm not saying that I'm against these things. I have in fact tried some of them, but at the moment I'm living in the middle of a city. My current hobbies are more things like drinking cocktails in Harvey Nics.

He seemed keen though, so I accepted his invitation to go on a date.

He texted me...I have the perfect idea for where we can have our first date..!

Oooh where?

The Trafford Centre. It's under cover. We can shop, eat and drink!

'Noooooooo!' I said out loud when I read it.

Now I'm really not a fussy madam. I can be as happy with a chippy tea as I am going to a posh restaurant, but the Trafford Centre....? It's a shopping centre! He was even suggesting we shop. Whoever shops on a first date?

I think what most concerned me was that he thought it was such a perfect idea. We were clearly on different wavelengths. I decided to make my excuses and not meet him.

I'd forgotten all about it until the other week when Mr Trafford Centre texted again suggesting we reschedule.

I don't know whether it was the fact it is a new year, or a new decade to be more precise, but I decided to go for it. I mean imagine if he was 'The One' and I'd dismissed him purely because of his venue suggestion? And actually I was starting to see his reasoning behind it. I told him he could dream on about the shopping bit but we could do the eating and drinking part there. And we'd be out of the rubbish weather. Maybe it was a really good suggestion? Maybe he's actually a genius?

I get there straight after work. He phones me when he arrives shortly after to ask where I am. I tell him what shop I'm in and suggests he meets me there.

'No I'm not coming there. Meet me outside Selfridges.'

'OK.' Demanding.

I get there. Look around. There is no-one that resembles his photo.

My phone rings. 'I can see you! Look behind you.'

I twirl around.

'No the other way. Can you see me? Ha ha, I can see you and you can't see me!'

'Where are you?' He was starting to piss me off. And I hadn't even met him. With hindsight, I wish I'd just walked off. That would have showed him.

'I'm coming towards you now. I'm that fat guy! Ha ha! Only joking!'

He appears in front of me, still on his mobile phone.

'Ha ha wasn't that hilarious?'

Yeah hilarious.

'You really thought I was the fat guy didn't you? Were you worried? Glad to see you aren't fat by the way. I've met up with a couple of girls from the site and both were fat and neither looked like their photos. I told one I had to buy a shirt and needed to go into that shop...'

'You met up with her here?'

'Yeah I always meet my dates here.'

'Not just here in the Trafford Centre, but here at this very spot?'

'Yeah.'

Weirdo.

'Anyway she said she'd come with me, so I had to go pretend I needed to try the shirt on. Instead of going to the changing rooms I just went out the other door of the shop.Ha ha!'

'You just left her?' I said incredulously.

'Yes. The other one looked like her photo. If it was taken years ago that is! She'd put on a few pounds since then. I went to a bar with her and said I had to go to the toilet and instead I left. Ha ha!'

'Are you seriously telling me, a girl you are on a date with, about times you've abandoned other girls mid-date? Do you think that endears you to me?'

'You didn't see them. Anyway you look like your photo so you're OK, I won't do it to you.'

Arse.

Now why at this point I didn't leave ('I just need to go to the toilet...') I've no idea. I'm clearly a sucker for punishment. And have better manners than him. No, instead I bit my tongue and began my Trafford Centre date...

To be continued (unfortunately)...