David. The Alcohol Denier

I haven't been out with any men for quite some time now as life has been just too darn busy, and to tell the truth, the men I've been seeing recently are just too darn horrible.  I would, as a form of personal psychoanalysis, like to go over the finer details of the 2 dates I shared with David - a rather cooky-looking, well-educated, fifty-something year old who liked to ride his pushbike.  Just about everything I was looking for. At a glance, first date: Grey hair in a well groomed style, glasses, tweed jacket, t-shirt, jeans, Doc Martens and bike helmet on the chair for Christ's sake.  Perfect!

David chose the venue for date # 1, and according to the law of averages when internet dating, that venue happened to be in his home suburb. The venue itself was lovely, and we shared an afternoon drink looking out over the Brisbane River, doing the standard get-to-know-you's.  David was rather nervous at first and conversation was a little choppy to begin with.  However, four years of internet dating and a day job that requires conversation with strangers has turned me into an expert, so I set my mind to it, and soon enough the conversation was flowing smoothly.

Everyone is at their happiest when they are talking about themselves. And that game can be played for hours.

David was no exception.  Basically he was an accountant who had started working as an Accounts Manager at a newly established religious school about 15 years ago.  I spent a good deal of time going over how he ended up where he was, what he studied at Uni. I heard all about his early days as an accountant and the trials and tribulations of working for himself, followed closely by how he came to the decision to finally start working again for a private business.  So when the opportunity to self-disclose finally came I took it.

Since he worked in a school and may be able to empathise with me, I mentioned 2 instances in my own children's education that I had taken exception to.  I had complained to the school and felt my concerns were justified.  Yes, my specialty is complaining.  I followed my exuberant explanation with this sentence: "...but I could go on forever with my complaints about certain aspects of X School's curriculum."

David responded with: "But you won't, will you?"

But-you-won't-will-you...

Oh, and he also wanted to know why my marriage had ended.  Classic "I'm fresh out of a long-term marriage and I'm scared of women who cheat" syndrome. I took these insults in my stride.
He'd been kind enough to self disclose on the topic of why his marriage had failed. Most men are when they feel it's their wife's fault the marriage has failed.  He tried the sympathy card and told me his wife had cheated on him 10 years ago and that he had never really gotten over it.  FFS.

We ended up having 2 glasses of wine each.  My first wine I had bought for myself as David was already waiting for me wine-in-hand when I arrived.  He had text me 20 minutes before out meeting time to let me know he was waiting for me, which was rather distressing for me as I was still at work.  The second wine I bought for both of us.  After the 2 wines David suggested a Japanese restaurant down the road that I might like to accompany him to.  We took the scenic route to the restaurant, along the river.  Completely fucked up the heals of my $130 'interview shoes' as they kept getting wedged between the wooden board walk. Ripped them to shreds.

So he orders some sake.  150mls to be precise.  When it arrives, I reach for it, and I fill his tiny little cup.  I then proceed to fill my own.  "Oh" he says.  "Aren't you driving tonight?"
(Yes, correct!  I am also a 45 year old woman who is capable of deciding when to cease drinking alcohol.  You are a man I met 3 hours ago who should care less about controlling my drinking and more about getting me drunk since this is the first time I have met you, and rose-coloured glasses would really come in handy about now, thank you.)

I paid for dinner, and David organised date # 2.  The movie date.  Once again, in his home suburb.

So he texts me before date # 2 to ask if I would like to have a picnic on the banks of the river following the movie.  What could I say?  I responded with "Lovely, thank you.  Can I bring some wine along?"  His reply: "No, don't worry.  I have a bottle of wine I opened the other day.  I will bring that along."

OMFG.

The questions were whirling in my head.

1. How long ago did he open it?
2. How much of the bottle is left?
3. Does he really think 1 bottle is enough?

The movie was artsy.  I had a hard time discussing it when I came out as I had found it rather boring.  A few warning signals that David was a right-winged middle-aged white man from a privileged background emerged, but I tried to ignore them as I still had a couple of hours to kill with this man. 

David drove me the 1km to the park in his V8 Utility (which he needed for the 10 acres he owned in New South Wales and contrasting ever so slightly with his urban bike riding image).  To his credit he had made his own antipasto, and he had a lovely bottle of pre-opened french red wine.  He presented 2 kitchen glasses, each estimated by me to hold about 100mls.  He then pulled the wine from his backpack.  He proceeded to fill each of our glasses with wine then deposited the corked bottle of wine back into his backpack.  Mine was gone in 10 mins.  It took him another 30 to finish his, and a further 10 to offer me a second glass.  

Conversation wasn't flowing smoothly.  When I mentioned the park he had chosen was lovely - due to it's lack of screaming children, he responded that children don't bother him.  He is mesmerised by them. Just watching them climb a tree 'gives him great pleasure.' 

The he poured my second 100mls, god bless him.  I could have swigged it from the bottle at this stage.

I sat there for 2.5 hours on 200mls of wine!  There was half a bottle still sitting in his fucking backpack! It was unbearable.  Everything about him was polar opposite to me, including his generosity and his alcohol consumption.

By the end of the date I was furious.  He had no idea.  

Who does that?  Who keeps the wine in their backpack and only fills your glass when he is good and ready?  Who brings an open bottle of wine to a date?  Who questions a lady about her consumption of alcohol and her ability to operate a vehicle?  

I ended the contact the next morning with a polite text message which centred around each of us not having what the other was looking for.

I didn't add that he was looking for someone he could control, and I was looking for an easy-going, intelligent alcoholic.