Was
tonight’s experience going to be closer to the satirical, cultural commentary
magazine or a cold meat and coleslaw rye bread sandwich?
My first
foray back into App dating has begun. My experience of Tinder a couple years
ago had been nothing short of traumatic, but I’d heard the behavioural
expectations on Bumble were slightly higher.
He is a
Lawyer with three degrees, because school was easier than adulthood. We spent a
while on Whatsapp playing a game where you have to guess the film from the
emoji sequences; Psycho, Snakes on a Plane, and any Keanu movies prove to be a
good start. His film references are much more classic and nerdy than mine, and
eventually we seem to settle on a good middle ground which is working out Riddler
(from Batman) riddles. No cheating on Google. I’m really looking forward to
meeting him.
The location
is set. It’s a pub near where he lives but not too far from me. In west London
even the traditional pubs have normally been decorated in the style of a rustic
French Chateau; Nouveau antique. A dress might be appropriate and worth the
effort. As I walk, in I discover a dress is definitely not appropriate. This is
a traditional pub with a real ale meets students union feel, where T-shirts
outnumber shirts, and the lights are on in the ‘lounge’. I’m used to being
under dressed but over?
I can’t spy
the mystery man, so I retreat to find him at the doorway. It’s awkward. He’s
awkward. He looks like his picture, but
his posture is not as tall, like Uncle Fester on the ‘5:2 Diet’. We queue for
the bar discussing his Spanish heritage, yet terrible grasp of actually
speaking Spanish. He’s kind of witty and smart with his nerdy American accent. I’m
in heels so feeling weirdly towering, as I get the first round in.
The evening
passes very quickly. He works on behalf of lots of celebrities (no names
mentioned) and has interesting tales of running the University radio station.
He uses fabulous language, is funny and has a nice face. He is way geekier that
I am. We would spend our courtship in the Electric cinema and at niche cultural
events being kooky. Our album of memories would be polaroid and Instagram
filtered. Our love children would read 14th century literature, and
would also be able to spell ‘century’. Thanks spell checker. In fact, they
might even win a Spell Bee. But despite my romantic and very practical
imaginings, there’s not quite enough eye contact, and I’m not get the feeling I
want to lean in and kiss those very pink lips of his.
We depart
with promises of meeting up and doing something else together, but we both know
it's just platitudes.
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