Presumably Unarmed And Charming
A Modern Romance Story…
Chapter 1: First Date
Pete. Young Professional. Dog lover and owner of a Collie, but sympathetic towards cats as well. Centralist in politics views, but an empathic listener and always asking insightful questions that prove he is both listening and “hearing”. He’s a foodie but not one who takes himself too seriously. And he has that rom-com smile that lets you know that — yes — he does possess BDE.
He’s an obvious candidate for a second date but is he too vanilla? Is he ‘REAL’ enough? Is he ready? Can he handle all my jelly?
Perhaps I’m overthinking things, or perhaps I’m just being me.
I’ll go on the second date before telling the kids. Best not get their hopes up.
Chapter 2: Scheduling Is Hard
It is seemingly harder to organise a second date with Pete than it was to pique enough interest to initiate the first meeting. Not because we weren’t interested, however, it’s just that we’re both, so, so busy.
I already felt guilty as I had scheduled our first (mind you, VERY successful) date on my housemate’s birthday. When she was informed of the clash, she was instantly mad, and let fly with the most scathing of retorts: “Fake News and Fake Housemates.”
It seems that ‘hoes before bros’ was not some reductive juvenile group-think but an important mantra to remind oneself about who your real friends are. We all apologised afterwards but I could tell she was hurt — if only a little.
Speaking of birthdays, mine was coming up and that made future romantic plans a little difficult. Seeing a recently ignited flame on someone else’s birthday was one thing. But on my own? Sacrilegious!
So, my diary was as follows.
Thursday was out, as back to backdate nights is both too energy-sapping and suggestive of being desperate or clingy. I am neither.
Friday was a no go, as I like to keep that clear for ‘After Work Drinks.’ As a young professional any networking opportunity is priceless and I don’t intend on scarifying my career for a man.
Saturday was also no good. Not because Pete isn’t good enough to occupy a primetime slot but because I have already organised “The Festival of Virtuous Virgos”, an annual celebration first and foremost my birthday but all the birthdays of my other September baby ladies. (Yes I know it sounds self-involved to create a Festival in honour of yourself but when you think about it that’s what a birthday is…)
Sunday was obviously a no go, as I have blocked out the morning for “Self Care” (read: hangover) and the evening for “Life Admin” (read: Netflix and dim sims — oh, and for Russel Coight as well.)
Mondays are the ACTUAL worst and I would lose Pete as a long-term prospect if we met on a Monday this early in the piece.
But then Tuesday and Wednesday are so far removed from our initial date that I may have forgotten him by then, which without good reason would be a pity.
My phone vibrates. It’s a message from Pete: “So… when are you free next?”
I sigh, and begin to type… “Let me check my diary and get back to you.”
Chapter 3: Mondays Are The ‘WORST’
So… against my better judgement, I saw Pete on a Monday.
Mondays are still the WORST. This Monday was the MOST WORST! Why? Well, it proceeds the “Festival of Virtuous Virgos” and its lengthy revelling.
I don’t often party “hard” but after prolonged absences of full body and mind hangovers like the one I am nursing currently, I will allow myself to be “on one.” And last Saturday night I was “ON ONE.” Forget Bey, Celine or Mariah — I was radiating BCE from the centre of the dance floor and living my best life.
I knew Sunday would be apocalyptic. I also knew Monday was to be a massive struggle but ignored that reckoning until sunlight Monday when one of my overly cheerful housemates for 6:30am in the morning confirmed with me that I would indeed struggle… and I did.
It was a routine case of Mondayitis but one that couldn’t be solved by a long bath and a cuddle with the ‘Haus Paus’ at the end of a long day being a young professional.
I HAD to go on this date. It wasn’t so much that Pete was a totally unmissable person, (I had already expressed my concerns to my dating counsel that I was perhaps overly impressed with his normality) but that I HATE hypocrisy.
Pete had cancelled on me the first time and it grated me. I could not allow myself to do the same. And besides, the date was at Milk the Cow — a fromagerie for goodness sake — and what better cure for a two-day hangover (other than a cat cuddle and a bubble bath) than wine and cheese… and the possibility of stimulating conversation?
Pete was on time, which should have impressed me but I was concerned that perhaps it was him just trying to impress me as opposed to being (in just the space of four days) a more punctual person.
Some people are naturally tardy, and I’m not a huge fan of these people. So it would be a waste for Pete to try very hard to be punctual, only to fall out of the habit once he felt comfortable around me. Harsh? Perhaps, but definitely fair.
After the first sip of wine, which my body associated with an attempt at self-poisoning, the date went smoothly. The cheese was YUM, the wine was fabulous and the conversation flowing. Pete continues to be an attentive listener and raises some interesting topics but my mind does wander.
Tinder dates but their very virtue lack the complex backstories and undertones of more organic dates, get-togethers and accidental partnerships. Communicating through a UX interface on a mobile device as part of a filtering process to then arrange pseudo-obligatory meetups is a good way to stilt chemistry development, and the chemistry isn’t charged on this evening. It’s a nice time, but I’ve also had better.
My housemates, who are seemingly keener for this date than I am, check-in with hopeful and playful interrogations.
“Is ‘House Momma’ coming home tonight?”
“Does Pete still have BDE?”
“WHAT ARE HIS BIRTH DETAILS?!?! DON’T WASTE YOUR TIME UNTIL YOU GET THOSE!”
(His birthday is the 9th of January, making him a Capricorn and us ‘compatible’ according to the irrefutable science of Astrology.)
“Guys, I’m on the bus home… IT’S A SCHOOL NIGHT.”
It is a school night and I would have stayed out longer if I had wanted to, but it’s my ACTUAL birthday tomorrow and sometimes you have to treat yo’self.
I have a cat to cuddle and bubbles to lie in.
