I met my accidental date in 2008,
on a training course. We were at a session about interviewing skills so
questions were the order of the day, and as it turned out, I was a natural. Maybe
not a journalistic success, but if a chat show hosts were judged on how many of
your interviewees you'd snogged, then move over Graham Norton I'm getting
Friday night BBC 1. It's just lucky I don't work in the HR recruitment
department because it’s saved the tribunal. On second thoughts, maybe I missed
a trick. The first foray into eye contact, ruthless questioning and really
listening, revealed its power. I've noticed in the years since this, if in
doubt ask a question and look like you're listening is the best lazy date
strategy. People love talking about themselves. It seems to help. To feign
listening you have to not interrupt and then ask another question that vaguely leads
on from the last answer they gave. The strategy can be employed at various
stages of any relationship, and has particular power during phone calls when
your bow insists on seven-minute monologues, when your total input mash-up
could only suggest that you’re a big fan of the 2000s indi-rock punk band, the
‘Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs’. Even less focus required over the phone on
those long distance relationships. No eye contact required.
Way back in 2008, when the staff
training had usefully taught me some seduction skills, I received a lot of
great kisses from my accidental date between hotel rooms, and then in the park,
and then in more parks. There were many parks. Some had deer. He’d introduced
me the magic of cucumber, tomato, fresh coriander and salt on pita. Revolutionary
for an individual brought up on iceberg lettuce and no dressing. It blew
my mind. He is Palestinian and had the tight black curls, a neat and fairly
petite frame, brown eyes and rounded features. We’d talked about what it was
like to grown up in the Yemen, summer camps with AK47s, and looked at maps
where Palestine once existed but no longer did. It was the first time I'd hung
out with someone who was suffering with post-traumatic stress disorder. We use
the word disorder like it’s unusual, but actually it’s normal physiological
reaction. It was only really apparent because we happened to date in November. He
certainly wasn’t going to be remember, remembering any gunpowder, treason or
plots with me.
In terms of women he was a good
Muslim boy at the time, so spending time together was more My Fair Lady than My
Bare Lady. My sexually liberated 27-year-old self did find this somewhat
frustrating. It had come to an end when I went to Australia, fell in love with
a lothario diving instructor (cliché alert) at the Great Barrier Reef (double
cliché alert), and love with the diplomatic multilingual Palestinian never
rekindled.
Until…,
I bump into him at work. He's attempting
to give up smoking so is visibly frustrated and distracted. People from
countries where peace can’t be taken for granted seem to smoke more. The
message that smoking is not good for your health and may shorten your life
doesn't touch the sides when you come from a perspective that smoking doesn't
kill you, IEDs (improvised explosive devices, not to be confused with IUDs) do.
It's relative when comparing 35 years and a few seconds to the end. He's lived
in the U.K. for some time now, knows more Kings of England than I do, and has
residency. He's been embracing the culture by going to the BBC proms all month
and it's the last week, so he invites me along.
During the eight-week season of
the Proms there are 90 concerts performed by leading orchestras and choirs of
the world, in one of London’s finest buildings, the Royal Albert Hall. You can
go inside and take a look at the auditorium on Google maps. It’s all for under
a tenner if you buy the pleb tickets, which you can even purchase on the door.
Warning: Spontaneity might occur, unlike other London events, which are booked
out a year in advance.
We went for a beer and Tai curry
before the performance. He’s a flexible Muslim, and would pass the non-official
test for being a Londoner. In London the pollution is so bad that to limit
exposure to heavy metals and other chemicals in the drinking water, it’s best
to drink spirits and beer ALL the time. It’s the Wild West End. Fact. By this
point we are definitely on a date. There’s so much familiarity that it feels
like we have picked up where we left off eight years ago. There’s even some
hand holding going on.
It’s very exciting. We are going
to see Mendelssohn’s String Adagio, and I’m starting to feel those 'violins strings
playing like a symphony', Corrine Bailey Rae style. The music is phenomenal, the
setting and the acoustics are stunning. It’s really good to see him, and listen
to his balance and insightful views before and after; and to just be.
After a lovely evening we kissed,
and it was as dreamy as my memory, but with less smoke and more nostalgia. He
asked if I wanted to come back to his but a thought about carefully, and I
really wanted my electric toothbrush. It’s hard to explain just how much I love
cleaning my teeth!
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