In stark contrast to the excitement of last week, this one has been pretty dire. In terms of dating, work and domesticity,my patience has been well and truly tested.
Firstly, my kitchen flooded and then a couple of days later, the glass on my oven door exploded. The most upsetting aspect of the oven scenario was that it was all over my dinner which had been happily cooking away. Death by ground glass is not a good way to go apparently so I gave the pasta bake a miss and went to bed in a huff, stomach grumbling, glass everywhere.
Having already phoned the insurance company to report the water damage, I decided against calling again to report the oven. Life is too bloody short. Anyone who commits insurance fraud just for the hell of it must be completely mad. Frankly I'd rather just buy whatever it was that I wanted. A whole new kitchen however is a different matter entirely so I endured the call. The length of which was almost as mind numbing as the date with Waitrose Guy on Tuesday.Perhaps I can charm the assessor when he gets here? Enough of the domestic moans and groans, lets get on to the good stuff.
Met said guy on Tuesday night and he greeted me with a big smile and a kiss on the cheek. At this point instead of breathing in cologne, all I could smell was stale cigarette smoke and from that moment on I wasn't interested and began to calculate how long I could stay before making a polite excuse to leave. He was handsome. And when he laughed, even more so but he laughed rarely. I suspect that's part of the package with a writer, especially a poet. I think a tortured soul is compulsory. Now poetry isn't really my thing. I can appreciate a naughty limmerick, or something by Edwin Morgan or Tom Leonard but this guy was on another level altogether. Everything was very serious, brooding, intense and self indulgent.
After buying me a drink, he handed me a folded piece of A4. I opened it to see a poem in the shape of a fork, which is hard to explain really but it read 'You ate from my fork, but did I feed you' there was also a scribbled note from him. This was a poem from the book he'd just written. Fourteen years of work no less and I was one of the first people to have a sneaky preview. I pretended to be impressed and asked if he wrote all his poetry in the shape of objects. BIG mistake. He then went on to explain that yes, this was a style he used often but after meeting me at the supermarket, he was inspired to write something completely different. He then asked if he could recite it for me. Immediately I panicked because I knew I'd have the urge to laugh so I said no but he insisited. While I was biting my lip,hoping the ground would swallow me, he was reciting something along the lines of 'I kiseed her cheek, where my lips bled'. He then followed it up by saying that it was 'dark' but he thought he knew what it meant. He seemed so pleased with himself whilst I was bemused.
I deliberately aksed him a lot of questions because that meant I didn't have to answer any from him. I didn't particularly want to share anything about myself and he very much liked talking about himself, his life, and his ahem, work. After 2 hours of Spanish Inquisition from me, Waitrose guy announced his need for a cigarette. This was my opportunity to make a run for it. Well, make my excuses and leave but I wanted to run. Faster than I've ever run before. Especially, when we got out into the street where he grabbed me and tried to kiss me. How could he have got it so wrong? Especially after he pointed out that I was very much keeping my distance by sitting away from him. Perhaps I'm good at feigning interest? Let's face it, I've had plenty of practice. I turned my face away and wriggled out of his grasp. He then said he'd give me a call and I did my usual 'Yeah sure', and ran off into the night.
5 Days later, he called. I ignored the phone. Hoovering was more interesting. He did leave a voicemail though. He apologised for leaving it so long to call but he thought he'd give me some 'space' as I seemed busy but he hoped things were good with me. Space? After only one date? Very considerate don't you think? I absolutely can't deal with someone so intense and introspective. That's a call I wont be returning.
Speaking of returning; Teacher Guy has text every other day since our date nearly two weeks ago. Always something humourous & interesting but never any questions and no hint of asking for another date. I text back but again, I never ask any questions. I don't want another date but I am curious as to why he keeps in touch. If I ever find out, I'll be sure to let you know.