I had agreed to pick up Floyd (we'll call him Floyd) in my car from the train station (just because that was a relevant landmark and not to ensure all modes of transportation were witnessed that evening. There were no plans to glide past a bus depot later on). I had told a bunch of people were I was going and with whom but as I pulled up it occurred to me that I wasn't actually following the rules of safe internet dating. You're supposed to meet them in a neutral place, surrounded by a lot of people, with adequate access to sneaking away should things take a turn for the weird. By allowing a man I didn't know into my car (where pushing him out of said car would be tricky given that I have the strength of a kitten and can barely manage to change the radio station when driving without crashing, let alone thwart an attack and keep things road steady) I felt like I'd already failed the first test which is; don't get yourself raped or killed. As these thoughts only occurred to me as I pulled up I thought it better to just go along with it and not to voice them hoping that it would probably turn out okay and not with my rape or murder or murder/rape. You know things are going to go well when your first thought on meeting someone is, 'I hope I don't get murdered or raped tonight'.
Floyd was my first date in two years (actually probably more as with the previous one we never did what you might call 'going on dates', unless accompanying a man to a psychiatric institution for admission counts as a 'date'?) (But I think that would be opening up the term 'date' pretty broadly so let's go with no) and he was absolutely perfect as the 'first date in two years' guy. In that I had an absolutely abominable evening. Like, the worst. And it wasn't even the worst in a 'I got a bunch of funny anecdotes out of this terrible thing that happened to me' way. Just in a 'that was the longest three hours of my life' way. Which is the worst way.
As soon as he got into my car I knew I had no romantic interest in him whatsoever. But you can't really say that to someone as they're getting in your car; "um... stop right there. Am sure you're a perfectly lovely human being but no. Just... No". So get in the car he did. I smiled and made a crack about 'ooh this a bit awkward haha' and then proceeded to find out exactly what the word 'awkward' actually means. Every facet of it. It's smooth surfaces and rounded curves. I came to know it intimately like I had never known a word before.
I am quite good at connecting with people quickly and easily. I can't do it in groups. Ever. But as a one-to-one thing I know I can be relied on to open people up, make them feel pretty comfortable talking with me, and frequently enjoy conversations with people from all walks of life, whom I have nothing in common with, just because I operate from the basis of 'let's find out more'. Finding out more is pretty much guaranteed to lead you somewhere good - to a place where true connections are made.
Finding out more about Floyd is the most impossible task I have ever had in my life.
I asked questions, he answered them. He asked me some questions, I answered those. This continued throughout the evening. Now, you, dear reader, may be thinking 'well, that sounds suspiciously like a conversation' and yes, it was. But imagine a conversation stuck in the tone and feel and spirit of a conversation that takes place within the first five minutes of meeting a stranger you have no chemistry with. It's stilted, it's somewhat unnatural, no-one knows where to look. It was like that. For three hours.
Now, part of the problem started before we even met. When Floyd first contacted me he asked fairly quickly into our messaging relationship if I wanted to maybe go and see a film with him. I told him that the only film I really wanted to see at that precise moment in time was only showing at a cinema a thirty minute drive from where we both located. Because of this I then suggested meeting in a pub in the town where we both lived instead. He remained fairly adamant about the film thing (JESUS FLOYD! IF YOU LIKE FILMS SO MUCH WHY DON'T YOU JUST MARRY THEM?) I saw this as a bit odd but not 'squirming out of the date' worthy so went with it. Maybe it would be better not to drink I reasoned. Maybe it'll give us something to talk about if we get stuck I logic-ed. (Hmm. Maybe past-me. Maybe). Then I suggested collecting him from the train station and driving there together about an hour and a half before the film started so we could talk. I think Floyd found this a bit odd but not 'squirming out the date' worthy himself as he was a bit 'well... okay' about the whole thing. I had been labouring under the impression that dating was about getting to know people you were attracted to (however remotely) and figuring out if you like each other enough to continue that process until you decide you don't want to do that any more (correct me if I'm wrong). Part of that (I had assumed) would involve conversing with this other person so you could make better judgements about whether to continue/when to stop. Floyd didn't seem to view it that way given his reluctance at arriving there at an earlier time than would be needed to just see the film. He seemed to view dating as sitting silently in a darkened room with another person sat next to him watching a projection of other people having conversations.
Or, it was just that Floyd had joined a dating site because he wanted someone to go to the cinema with occasionally (seriously, Floyd, you can go by yourself! If it means that much to you just go by your freaking self!) without having to worry about all that ridiculous 'talking' and whatnot. I'm not unconvinced this was the case.
So I'm already a bit unsure even before we start as to what's expected of me. But I go with it, obviously, this is new easy-breezy me. Me just taking things as they come. Hey world, no pressure! Let's just see where this goes! me. The Bizarro-World version of me in other words.
My life previous to this had been ruled with an iron fist by plans and lists. Delicious plans and delectable lists (even now, I feel my heart beating faster and my mouth start salivating at the phrase). Plans and lists which actually ended up holding me back rather than pushing me forward my therapist felt. She may have had a point given that I would spend hours and hours coming up with these incredibly detailed and intricate (well, there is no other words for it) works of art that would be impossible for anyone to live up to. Once I let a few things slip I would then be paralysed by the fact that I wasn't keeping up with what I was meant to be doing and then I would just sit very still in the middle of a room doing literally nothing at all. They were the worst motivation-masquerading-as-a-motivational-tool any human had ever invented (I can remember reading about Arnold Rimmer's studying technique in the Red Dwarf books where he would spend months and months making revision timetables that would divide his entire day . But becasue he'd spend so long making these beautiful timetables it would get to three days before the exam and he'd find he'd not done anything but make this revision timetable that was now completely useless. I can remember reading this and thinking 'hmm... that sounds like fun!' which I don't think was the writers intention). Yet I clung to the lists and the plans like a koala to a tree. Nails in deep, limbs wrapped round with surprising force. My plans and my lists were my life. Until, all of a sudden, I found that my life was my life. Which seemed to make more sense.
So, yes, I was quite chill about this first-date-in-two-years. A little bit excited even. I wasn't expecting anything but I knew I have this superpower of putting people at ease in one-to-one situations in my pocket, and I always enjoy finding out more, so even if this guy seems a little odd what's the worst that can happen? I thought.
Well.
For a start, the complete lack of enthusiasm Floyd approached the art of conversing with. When we got to the cinema (which has a rather splendid cafe/bar) we got a drink and I sat on a sofa thinking he would sit in the seat next to me. No. He sat in the seat opposite me and then leaned as far back into that sofa as it is possible for a person to be. Which didn't really encourage the chat. He sighed and methodically answered questions. We discovered we had literally nothing in common. He'd played up his interest in pop culture and was more of an outdoorsy running-jumping-going on boats type. This is not the type I am. It quickly became apparent he wasn't over his ex-wife (EX-WIFE? He's a proper grown up and only a year older than me!). The car ride was laboured enough trying to think of things to talk about. Now we were sat opposite each other in the quietest cafe I have ever been in, where I was acutely aware the staff were listening in to every word we awkwardly said. It was clear even just looking at us that we were somewhat mismatched. Floyd was wearing the uniform of every late-twenties male regular Weatherspoons goer. I don't even know what you would describe my look as but 'guaranteed to get side eyes at a Weatherspoons' is as good a description as any.
Which is not to say I was judging Floyd or thought I was better than him in any way. It was just clear to everyone (including the both of us I think) that we had absolutely zero chemistry. I have personally had more chemistry with people's grandmas. And yes, as the noted philosopher Paula Abdul taught us; 'opposites [can] attract', but even then, if that's not the case, I pride myself on being able to find common ground with anyone - however the common ground I managed to slowly eke out of Floyd was probably not even big enough for the both of us to be stood on it at the same time comfortably. This was not a love connection.
To top it all off as the film commencing time approached a woman came and sat next to me on the sofa and read her book. Now it was not just the staff, but other patrons who were aware this was a first internet date and how horrific it was. 'Shall we find our seats?' I suggested, just for something to do. Soon (twenty minutes later) the sweet, sweet adverts (the only time before or since I have thought of them as thus) rolled up in front of our eyes and I knew I'd now get a good two hour break before having to endure more benign and uninviting chit chat. Just like when someone is being tortured and then they get put back in their cell; there's a pleasure and a pain in this reprieve. On one hand you're not having to endure the torture any more. On the other hand you know it will begin again soon enough and you'd just rather die here and now instead. It was a bit like that.
Eventually the moment I'd been dreading arrived. The credits rolled. I bustled us out of there pretty sharpish establishing that I'd loved the film and he'd thought it was depressing, in the process. I drove him back to the station, this time no longer really concerned about making conversation. (This was an unmitigated failure so there was no point expending any further energy in pretending to be polite). As he went to get out of the car a curious thing happened. He sort of edged nearer to me and lingered in his seat saying something about 'doing this again sometime'. I smiled sweetly and made noncommittal noises and unconsciously moved myself nearer and nearer to my door until I realised I was plastered right against it. He may have seen my eyes screaming 'LEAVE MY CAR NOW PLEASE' as he did eventually extricate himself from the passenger seat and stand on the pavement.
It was over.
Thank fuck.
As I drove home I had one thought running through my head 'if I can get through that I can get through anything'. Floyd had really been the perfect host in my return to the dating pool. I'd had no chemistry with him, he was obviously not interested in me, and yet I was fine! It wasn't a big deal! I didn't feel heartbroken that this hadn't worked out, just elated that I was obviously repaired to the point that a date could go badly and it didn't upset me. I got through the door and checked the dating site on my phone. A massive grin spreading over my face as I read the rambly, drunken, overwhelmingly charming message I'd got from the one guy on there I was really excited about.
This was all just starting.
To be continued...
Join us for Act III: Our heroine steps into something great
