Everyone tells me that dating is a game of numbers: 1, 3, 7, 92,
1000. It makes me wonder how anyone found love 50 years ago; were
we less picky back then or does this endless swipe, swipe, swiping
actually result in happier unions?
Ever since I've started saying yes to more ladies I've been
getting more matches than I know what to do with. My phone trills
with messages from lovelies all over London and beyond; air
hostesses and accountants and designers who keep me up late into
the night with their questions and stories; their :) and ;) and
their xxx promise of later nights to come.
The Irish and I arrange to meet in a park but I realise at the
last minute, stretched out in a scrabble of slightly tired
snowdrops, that I've come to the wrong place.
I run at full pelt, dodging cars and children and gaggles of
grinning holidaymakers taking selfies with a pigeon.
Fucking tourists, I mutter bad-naturedly.
I wheeze in 20 minutes later:
"I….am….so….sorry" I gasp.
"It's no bother," she says in a gorgeous, slippery little accent
that's like a pat on the bum.
We swing by an off licence and pick up cans of whisky and ginger
beer before scoping out a quiet spot in the grass.
Two hours later and I'm in a conversational no man's land. I've
tried everything - careers, holidays, books, politics, family - but
she's not biting. I drag sentences kicking and screaming from her
lips until eventually the conversation curdles like month-old
I scan the park desperately for something to talk about as the
silence deepens into the world's most terrifying vortex of social
awkwardness. Gah. Say something!
"Such a lovely evening" I sigh.
"Yes, it is."
"The, er, moon is really beautiful."
"It's grand" she replies, "I think it's nearly a full moon."
"Fuuulll moooon, halfff moon, to-tal eclipse" I giggle whilst
she looks at me as if I'm on acid. I almost wish I was on acid so I
could hallucinate a better date.
At last, I turn to the one subject I know we both have in
"So, when did you come out?"
Her eyes light up and she's off. She parades her exes around in
front of me - their lovely quirks and tiresome faults - until I
know all their names and bra sizes by heart.
As dates go, it's not the best.
Later that night we say goodbye in the underground - her heading
North and me heading South.
"Let me know if you want to do something again. I'd love to get
to know you more…" she says giving me a hard stare.
BUT WHAT WILL WE TALK ABOUT??I scream silently in my head.
Lucky number 9? Here's hoping.
More like this
Girl Meets Girl: Out
Girl Meets Girl: Baby Steps
Girl Meets Girl: Romance 2.0
Girl Meets Girl: Will she, won't she?
Girl Meets Girl: Mating Rituals
Girl Meets Girl: Beauty and the Beasties
Girl Meets Girl: Come Over
Girl Meets Girl: New kid on the block
Girl Meets Girl: (Wo)man Up
Girl Meets Girl: L'art d'aimer
Girl Meets Girl: 50 Shades of Grey Areas
Girl Meets Girl: Let's Talk About Sexts,
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Girl Meets Girl: Give it to me straight
Girl Meets Girl: Faith and Fortune
Girl Meets Girl: Absence makes the heart grow
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