When I was a young girl, I was told tales of a valiant prince and his noble stead whisking me away to a life of eternal happiness. Well today it seems the land where fairy tales come true, came to die instead.
My ‘prince’ arrived hurtling around the corner, in fourth gear, backfiring and spluttering as his powder blue Fiat Panda came to an abrupt stop. I would never normally accept a lift from an online date I hadn’t previously met, but he was local and friends had vouched for him and said he was a regular guy (I’m beginning to wonder if I should continue to call these people friends).
For a split second, I pleaded with the universe for it not to be him. My heart sank as I looked in the window and saw a version of the guy I knew from photos. His wide, crooked and goofy smile beckoning me into his car. He looked awkward, unsure of himself and wimpish with a of haircut a 7-year-old boy who forgot to brush his hair. He had a crown (hair variety, not regal) which looked as if even it was trying to run away from him. The vision in front of me was a far cry from the handsome, chiselled demigod promised in tales. OH LORDY, HERE WE GO!
I take a deep breathe, smile politely, open the car door and SMACK! I am slapped in the face by the most pungent smell of wet dog. I cough a little to cover my overriding urge to wretch, I step into the car and he begins to chatter nervously. I look around seeing all of the empty McDonalds wrappers, boxes and empty cups. Hair, there is so much dog hair, everywhere, that I could knit an entire other dog. I realise I am doing exactly what I hope other people don’t do to me, I am judging him. This is just his cover, there is a whole book inside – hopefully!
“Shall we go?” He asks
“Sure” I giggle nervously “What about a walk down the coast and get some ice cream, it’s a nice day?”
He agrees.
Well, you would’ve thought we were in an F1 Ferrari, his wheels spun as he hit the accelerator and smoke bellowed around us. “Oh shit! The handbrake is on” He lets it off and we hurtle away from the house like Doc and Marty in the DeLorean except we were in a car that had an engine as powerful as a sewing machine. His driving didn’t improve. It was like the worst rollercoaster of my life as he tore around corners, refusing to slow down, and hammering on the brake at lights. Breakneck speed? The speed at which he nearly broke my neck was insane as ripped through the streets. He must have thought I was odd as I kept looking behind us. I was hoping to see the car with which we seemed to be in a chase. My butt cheeks in agony trying to grip the seat beneath me, I guess this is the life event the squats were training for!
It appears he has not noticed the extreme fear on my face as he continues to make clumsy first date conversation. My responses are limited to “uh huh” as I pray to the god of bad first dates to save me, and, at that, I could see the glistening of the sea in the horizon. THANK F**K!
He parks up and looks over to me with a look of excitement for the date ahead. I am always grateful that telepathy isn’t a real thing. If he could read my mind, he’d be seasick. My thoughts were still swirling around, adjusting from the ride of their lives. Also, I wouldn’t like him to truly know I was as nauseated as an inexperienced sailor. The smell of wet dog isn’t helping much to help the feeling pass. This is not how I thought the date would be. I try to pull myself out of the car in the hope that the fresh air will bring a fresh start to this date. I scold myself for feeling very judgemental, adjust my attitude as well as my coat and make my way to the other side of the car to meet him.
He grabs my hand excitedly and is proud to walk hand in hand with me along the promenade. I wince feeling slightly awkward at such familiarity on a first date. I can’t decide if this makes him crazy or makes me a bitch. He tells me at the end of the promenade there is an old ice cream parlour that makes ice cream the traditional way and is pushing for us to sit in together and share an ice cream. As much as I loved Grease and always fancied an ice cream milkshake followed by a hand jive, I just felt uncomfortable.
So why was I feeling uncomfortable? On the walk towards the ice cream parlour his talk became intense. Questions circled around moving in together, family introductions and if I would mind being the bread winner as I make more money. JESUS! I had only met him an hour ago and here he was planning our lives together, I wasn’t even sure I was up for a second date with Schumacher! The whole time I could hear a swooshing sound around me that was pulling my concentration and irritating me. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what the sound was or where it was coming from. The sound was reminiscent of that kid in the playground who dragged their jacket along the ground, but there was no kid in sight.
“Can you hear that?” I say, slighted vexed.
“Hear what?” he replies
“That swooshing sound!”
He suggested it is just the sound of the sea, I wasn’t convinced, but we continued walking and he continued to edge towards what feels like a proposal. I smile and nod as we walk and find my step quickening as I head towards the saviour of ice cream. But before we can reach my safe haven, he bumps into someone he knows. I gather from the conversation that this is someone he bowls with and I’m not talking about 10 pin bowling, no. I am talking about lawn bowls. They discuss a few issues about the club. Tam, the guy he is talking to, asks him about his health and how is leg is. I don’t even have time to absorb this new information before my date says:
“Tam, I didn’t get to introduce you to my girlfriend”
HOLY CRAP! If I had been talking a sip of a drink, I would’ve been spraying it all over Tam’s face in shock. Was there an ice cream parlour at the end of this promenade or was it Little White Chapel wedding drive thru? THE FEAR WAS REAL! This guy was intense and rushing into couple terms when I didn’t even know his surname. He hadn’t even learned anything about me or asked me any questions yet was comfortable to label me his girlfriend. This date was just odd. Just before their conversation ended, my nerves must have got the better of me and I dropped my phone on the ground. I bent down to pick it up and was then I noticed the shoe.
My date had a unique shoe on his left foot. The sole was about 4 inches taller than the other one. I had seen a shoe like this before on my friend’s grandmother after a hip replacement. So he’s had a hip replacement I thought to myself, no big deal. I pick up the phone and then we begin walking and the noise begins again. I look over to my date and realise the noise is coming from him. His left foot is dragging behind has he walks. Is that why he held my hand? Was it necessity to maintain his balance rather than a romantic gesture? The reality was I just wasn’t interested in a guy who was too quick to pretend that we were already in a relationship. The leg was the least of my concerns. However it left me in a predicament, God, is it disabilist of me if I don’t agree to a second date now?
We never made it for ice cream. The sky turned grey and, as if the clouds could feel may pain, they started crying, heavily. Our date was rained off and back to the car we went.
I made it home in one piece after round two on the autobahn. I politely thanked him for the date and hinted that we were at different stages in what we were looking for from a relationship. I never heard from him again but I often see the little powder blue speedster racing through the streets and wish him all the best.
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