Just like the seasons of the year, in dating there are periods of abundance (Spring) and periods of undersupply (Winter). I was somewhere in between Winter and Spring, there was plenty growing but nothing was baring any fruit. I began each new match with the same optimism I used to have before playing Monopoly as a kid, it was a fresh start and this year Park Lane and Mayfair were mine!
Unfortunately, I bit like Monopoly, the hand I was dealt was awful, I spent more time passing go, not collecting £200 and heading straight to jail. Each potential suitor would start a conversation with "hey, how's you?" and before I knew it one of two things happened, but both ended in my being ghosted. One scenario was the dreaded and regular request for naked photos. Let's be honest, I didn't sign up to online dating to begin my porn career as Red Avon (first pet and first street you lived on, right? Ha!). For some reason, guys (more than would probably admit) seem to confuse a paid escort site with online dating ones. Their cheap asses are hoping to get the same services for free. Moving along, gents! Just move along!
Another scenario is the guys who ain't got no game. I don't know what they are hoping for when they can't even put in the effort to string a sentence together. They aren't doing to enough to even entice a mouse to cheese, never mind get a date. They are estranged to conversation etiquette and don't realise that turn taking is essential to keep a conversation flowing- "yeah", "cool", "totally" aren't good responses to sustain a conversation, throw a question or two into your dating arsenal and what your chances of a date explode. Either of these two scenarios end up in me being ghosted. The first scenario I'm called a prude and asked why I'm online dating if I'm not following the rules. Apparently, everyone but me knows it for hook ups and sharing sexy snaps (hmm- really? I don't remember that clause in the T and Cs). The second scenario, I am made to feel like a relic for requesting we try something that vaguely resembles a conversation at least. Worse still, if I have the audacity to ask to chat on the phone (in the hope that their text game is a poor representation of them), suddenly we are incommunicado. As the common denominator in both scenarios, I did wonder "was I the problem?" - hells no! I've just got standards and let's be honest, they are low enough when you hear the dates, I've given a chance to- ha! Talking of the low bar, enter stage left- the boy in men's clothing.
After the barrage of poor matches, I got talking to this guy who was enthusiastic and gave all the right signals as a serious dater. He would respond to messages quickly enough;he would always ask a question in return and would remember details of things I had said in previous messages. His attention to detail was that a smitten kid in a relationship for the first time. I cannot lie, it was nice to have someone take a real interest for once. He surprisingly said that he only talks to one match at a time, and he would be happy to delete the app if anything serious came out of our meeting. He asked me on a date and the whole process was painless. He even suggested the location, he prepared a picnic, he had a car, and he could drive (angel’s sing- hallelujah- a guy who can drive). Well,knock me down with a feather, this guy was the poster boy formy ideal scenario of online dating.
We met at a country park that had hiking trails and nature was on our side as the sun was shining. He had prepared well and considered everything. He suggested we eat first. He had brought a blanket ( in case I was cold), he had bought me my favourite kind of food, and had put a small vase with a rose in it on the table of the picnic bench (I’m going to sound ungrateful but that felt a bit much). Nevertheless, I was really impressed so far. The conversation was flowing, he had a decent job, he spoke of travels and his hobbies. It was normal in the sense he was just a person like me who was looking to meet someone. He had never been married, wanted kids and to be honest it felt like all the terrible dates had led me to this moment. I had kissed a lot of frogs but here was my prince.
Lunch was over and he suggest beginning a trail. I was never really one over excited by exercise but I love walking and was looking forward to it. He packed away the picnic into his car and came to meet me at the opening of the forest. He asked if he could hold my hand and I felt as giddy as my sixteen-year-old self would allow.
The walk began idyllically. He was pointing out sites of interest, telling me about the history of the area and telling me about his life growing up in the region we were in. We got to an area that had rocks and river of water which flowed fiercely into a pool of water below. It was beautiful, it looked like a scene from a tourism marketing campaign. He asked to kiss me as we stood in such beautiful surroundings, and I was whisked away with the romance of that moment. But just as the water flowed down hill, so began the date.
After the kiss, he left go of my hand and said, “do you mind if I do a bit of rock climbing?” I saw no ropes, carabiners or any sort of PPE for rock climbing, so my confused response was “yeah, sure?” Like that my date became Tigger. He started bouncing down the rocks, jumping from one to the other like a kid on a school trip. I was bewildered. My romantic and almost perfect date had turned into a bizarro version of the TV show Ultimate Ninja Challenge. I’m not often lost for words, but I had none. Where did my date go and who was this dude?
Eventually, he scaled back up the rocks and skint his knees in the process. “Do you have a plaster?” he asked. “Jeez, I didn’t know a First Aid Kit was mandatory on a so-called romantic stroll, I didn’t anticipate the danger involved.” is what I said in my head, but I simply replied unimaginatively with “no, sorry”. He grabbed a nearby leaf and wiped his knee exclaiming that nature heals nature. (What a tool!).
Shocked but not undeterred, I continued with the date as I thought maybe I was being a bit harsh. Who was I to judge a guy who loved the great outdoors, had a touch of a hyperactivity disorder, and had the freedom to embrace his inner child? Onward we trotted.
The next area we came to was filled with wildlife. There were swans elegantly paddling around the slow flowing river as we stood on the wooden walkway. Ducks quacking and waddling around in the marsh nearby. I could see in the tree ahead lots of activity as squirrels playfully bounced around on the branches like they were engaged in a game of Tig. It was autumn so as they moved, chestnuts would be shaken from the branches landing on the mossy floor. It made me smile and I look round at my date expecting to see him find it as funny as me. I got a rude awakening when I saw him take off like a March Hare and sprint to pick up chestnuts and throw them tostrike the squirrels and eject them for the tree. Aghast, I asked him what he was doing, and he told me pest control. They were vermin that needed to be dealt with. I admit they may just be rats in a cooler outfit but there was no need for this level of crazy. I managed to usher him past his squirrel vendetta and return the squirrels their peaceful sanctuary. Who throws things at animals past the age of 10? Even that is regrettable.
There was a map in the distance which I aimed to approach. I needed to see how long I was going remain in the woods with the unhinged Bear Grylls. There was an old waterwheel up ahead and that was the last stop before the car park. On the map it was about 2cm, it real life it was going to take us another fifteen minutes or so. He seemed to morph back into the nice guy I first met for a while. He was asking what I’d like to do on our next date (maybe not). He was telling me what an enjoyable time he was having with me (the scenery was amazing, but his fits of crazy had spoiled the mood a little). I could see the waterwheel emerging and the car park was in sight. My breathing was less shallow, and the end was nigh.
He was asking me if I knew the function of the waterwheel used to be. I humoured him and asked him to tell me about it. He began to tell me and then said he had a cool trick to show me. He jumped onto the waterwheel and started walking against it like an aerialist performing a trick at the circus. Imagine someone walking on a Ferris wheel, that was him. He continued to do it as he gave me a brief history of the waterwheel and when his tale ended, he jumped back onto dry land. Done. I was done.
We walked back to the car in silence. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I had been on a date with two different people. I couldn’t marry up a guy with a serious, international job who also liked to throw chestnuts at squirrels and would regularly skin his knees.
I walked him back to his car. He got in, put on his seatbelt, and angled for commitment to a second date. I needed time to process what just happened, but my everlasting memory is of a small boy driving away in a Mercedes Benz who looked like the car was on loan from his dad.
I did meet up with him a couple of more times. I had given myself a hard time about judging him, but it turns out the duck test applied. He walked like a duck, quacked like a duck and essentially was a duck.
Dating is not for those with a lack of tenacity. Next!
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