The dates that just don't happen (Part 3)
Well, that didn't go too well with Michael. The date lasted from 7pm-8pm precisely.
So, let me go over the finer details. It very important that I jot this down before it starts to fade from my memory.
I walked into the bar about 5 mins before the designated meeting time. There he was. The bar was nearly empty but he had chosen to sit in a booth situated smack bang in front of the bar, with the bar tenders looking straight at us, able to hear our conversation word for word. Public how-do-you-do (yes, hello everyone, look over here, we are meeting for the first time via internet dating) takes place in front of the four 25 yo bar tenders, and we sit down to get to know one another.
So conversation is immediately a bit difficult. Michael already has his red wine in front of him, so I break the ice by saying, "Well, I might just grab myself a drink." Grab it, come back, he asks me what I am drinking and then he launches into a discussion about how few wines they have on offer in the bar. He talks about this for approximately 10 minutes. At this stage I know he's not for me. Already a big turn-off with his boringness and obsession about the drinks. "So where have you come from Michael? Was it difficult for you to get in here tonight?" This leads to a 20 minute conversation about train line closures in his suburb and the absurd fact that Qld Rail was offering a taxi to drive people from one side of the track to the other. I'm not sure how he did it exactly, but he was able to reconstruct the same sentence by moving phrases and inserting a few new adjectives here and there...for 20 fucking minutes. I was moaning into my wine. Every sentence started with a YELL!!! AND THEN PETEred OUt INto Quieter and quieter words.
While Michael was talking and talking and talking about drinks and trains, I had the luxury of scrutinising him from afar. I realised with a bit of relief that it wasn't a bit of bread stuck to his right temple. It was a large, fleshy wart that matched the one in the centre of his forehead. He was a twitchy fellow. Every few minutes he repeated the move of pushing some imaginary hair behind his right ear, then his hands moved over his imaginary beard. He'd spread his fingers over his cheeks and bring them down to end together at his chin. He was messy. He needed a haircut, his shirt was too big and it was wrinkled, he was carrying about 10-15 extra kilograms. I imagine if I had put my nose to his neck and breathed in deeply that he'd have smelt like old bed sheets and sweat.
God, he was so hard to talk to. He didn't try to fill the gaps. I bought him his second wine without any arguments from him.
He asked me what my employment background was and I told him it was nursing. "Well thank god you're not still nursing at your age" he said to me. "Do you think I'm too old to be a nurse?" "Well, I've dated a lot of nurses and they are always complaining that they want to get out of it." To which I responded "You do realise that ward work, which I assume you're referring to, is one path nurses can choose amongst a huge variety of career options?"
I stopped trying to fill the awkward silences after that. I started to make eyes at the attractive man in the booth immediately behind Michael whenever Michael was looking at the table. Eventually Michael must have caught me because he hauled himself 180 degrees to see what I was looking at.
He asked if I just had the one child (that I had mentioned in conversation earlier). No I have 5. One daughter and four sons. I delivered this and waited...
He took a sip of his wine and looked around the room without saying a thing in response. I mentioned with a bit of a laugh (as his response to my previous answer was strange to say the least) that when I usually deliver that line, I watch men's eyes closely for the split second shock, followed by revolt and then recomposure. He remained silent. He emptied his wine glass with one final swig and looked around the room without looking back at me.
He was genuinely shocked when I followed this display with "Well it was lovely to meet you Michael, but it's time for me to get going."
"Oh ok. You don't want another wine then?"
"No, I'm driving."
Michael got up out of the booth and left. He didn't say goodbye, he didn't wait for me to gather my bag. He didn't say thank you for the wine. He was gone.
I laughed to myself. I sat and finished the last 2 sips of wine, said thank you very much to the barmen and headed back out into the street. There was Michael, waiting at the lights to cross the road. I walked past him without a goodbye.
Thoughtless? Couldn't quite tell. I do know that he wasn't normal. I could tell that the minute I walked in. He was, at the very least, socially awkward and inappropriate. His exit suggests to me that he has some unresolved anger issues and maybe a child-like personality that appears to have been well fertilised over the years.
Second worst date I have ever been on.
Instincts 1: Common sense 0
So, let me go over the finer details. It very important that I jot this down before it starts to fade from my memory.
I walked into the bar about 5 mins before the designated meeting time. There he was. The bar was nearly empty but he had chosen to sit in a booth situated smack bang in front of the bar, with the bar tenders looking straight at us, able to hear our conversation word for word. Public how-do-you-do (yes, hello everyone, look over here, we are meeting for the first time via internet dating) takes place in front of the four 25 yo bar tenders, and we sit down to get to know one another.
So conversation is immediately a bit difficult. Michael already has his red wine in front of him, so I break the ice by saying, "Well, I might just grab myself a drink." Grab it, come back, he asks me what I am drinking and then he launches into a discussion about how few wines they have on offer in the bar. He talks about this for approximately 10 minutes. At this stage I know he's not for me. Already a big turn-off with his boringness and obsession about the drinks. "So where have you come from Michael? Was it difficult for you to get in here tonight?" This leads to a 20 minute conversation about train line closures in his suburb and the absurd fact that Qld Rail was offering a taxi to drive people from one side of the track to the other. I'm not sure how he did it exactly, but he was able to reconstruct the same sentence by moving phrases and inserting a few new adjectives here and there...for 20 fucking minutes. I was moaning into my wine. Every sentence started with a YELL!!! AND THEN PETEred OUt INto Quieter and quieter words.
While Michael was talking and talking and talking about drinks and trains, I had the luxury of scrutinising him from afar. I realised with a bit of relief that it wasn't a bit of bread stuck to his right temple. It was a large, fleshy wart that matched the one in the centre of his forehead. He was a twitchy fellow. Every few minutes he repeated the move of pushing some imaginary hair behind his right ear, then his hands moved over his imaginary beard. He'd spread his fingers over his cheeks and bring them down to end together at his chin. He was messy. He needed a haircut, his shirt was too big and it was wrinkled, he was carrying about 10-15 extra kilograms. I imagine if I had put my nose to his neck and breathed in deeply that he'd have smelt like old bed sheets and sweat.
God, he was so hard to talk to. He didn't try to fill the gaps. I bought him his second wine without any arguments from him.
He asked me what my employment background was and I told him it was nursing. "Well thank god you're not still nursing at your age" he said to me. "Do you think I'm too old to be a nurse?" "Well, I've dated a lot of nurses and they are always complaining that they want to get out of it." To which I responded "You do realise that ward work, which I assume you're referring to, is one path nurses can choose amongst a huge variety of career options?"
I stopped trying to fill the awkward silences after that. I started to make eyes at the attractive man in the booth immediately behind Michael whenever Michael was looking at the table. Eventually Michael must have caught me because he hauled himself 180 degrees to see what I was looking at.
He asked if I just had the one child (that I had mentioned in conversation earlier). No I have 5. One daughter and four sons. I delivered this and waited...
He took a sip of his wine and looked around the room without saying a thing in response. I mentioned with a bit of a laugh (as his response to my previous answer was strange to say the least) that when I usually deliver that line, I watch men's eyes closely for the split second shock, followed by revolt and then recomposure. He remained silent. He emptied his wine glass with one final swig and looked around the room without looking back at me.
He was genuinely shocked when I followed this display with "Well it was lovely to meet you Michael, but it's time for me to get going."
"Oh ok. You don't want another wine then?"
"No, I'm driving."
Michael got up out of the booth and left. He didn't say goodbye, he didn't wait for me to gather my bag. He didn't say thank you for the wine. He was gone.
I laughed to myself. I sat and finished the last 2 sips of wine, said thank you very much to the barmen and headed back out into the street. There was Michael, waiting at the lights to cross the road. I walked past him without a goodbye.
Thoughtless? Couldn't quite tell. I do know that he wasn't normal. I could tell that the minute I walked in. He was, at the very least, socially awkward and inappropriate. His exit suggests to me that he has some unresolved anger issues and maybe a child-like personality that appears to have been well fertilised over the years.
Second worst date I have ever been on.
Instincts 1: Common sense 0
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