Date #2

For those eagle eyed readers, dates #1 and #2 are published on the same day, I'm just playing catch up as this date took place a week last Thursday. I'll try to keep things to schedule in future. Promise.

Preamble : Day 4 of being on Match and I have a new favourite. For those who consider online dating a mystery, adding someone as a favourite usually translates as 'can't be arsed to initiate contact I'll let them do it instead'. Anyway, she selected me out of the 1000s online as possibly the one for her. Maybe. Now normally, being mid 40s that I am, I tend to receive winks, forward talking emails and favourites from ladies ranging from 50-70 in years. I obviously tick the right boxes for lady OAPs, so anyone dating me might have to fight off their mothers. 

So one of those rare occurrences happened, #2 was attractive, 39 years old and came across as really positive and happy in her profile and photos. I sent her a note on Sunday evening (date #1 a distant memory from the night before) to which she replied almost instantly. Yep, I was hooked and she too by the sound of it. Exchanging messages can be a dull affair at times but sometimes you just hit it off as you're on the same wavelength. After a couple of notes, I told her I was off to watch The Returned and that was far more important than our fledgling relationship. She saw the funny side thankfully and we carried on chatting during the ad breaks. Romance dead? Never! 

After a couple of days of chatting online I asked her for a drink the following Thursday. Accepted, I gave her my number. Great, now time to play it cool, slow down on the mail to keep it fresh on Thursday. 

Thursday came. We had agreed to meet in Soho but would decide on the day where exactly and so waited for her to call. Nothing. I waited. 4pm and I thought I would log on to check any messages. Nothing. Just as I was about to pen an email, I just wanted to check something, the number I gave. Bugger. A digit switch, so no wonder I'd heard nothing. I wrote an apologetic email in the hope she would pick it up realising that I'd not replied to her text (I just knew she would have texted, confident, moi?). I waited. And waited. 

It got to 6pm and I thought that's it, blown my chances. I decided, given that work was done for the day I'd walk over to Soho anyway, not because there was an off chance of bumping into her, but hopefully give her some time to realise what a dick I'd been. No sooner had I left the office, a text arrives. Touchdown, we were now in communication (realtime) and a destination agreed. At this point I must say that I probably skipped the distance to Soho as I was feeling such a dick for messing up the numbers. As a side point, many years before I did the same with my ex wife when we exchanged numbers and look how that ended up.

Location : Soho, al fresco (I got lucky and asked for a table to be moved outside). The  bar was busy on account of the fine weather, so I ordered a bottle of white. I had a lot a of making up to do and wine is always perfect for that.

Stats : Interior designer, 39 which transpired to be 40 later in the evening. I didn't know we were celebrating her birthday but what's a little white internet lie to friends?

Weird factor : Very low. Looked like her profile and wore a lovely leather jacket.  Conversation was flowing and post bottle of wine, we moved onto food nearby. Cocktails followed. Nothing to dislike at all.

Wife skills : 7/10 Whilst not producing a list of possible reception venues, the interior design element gave me a feeling of home maker. And a nice home at that.

Snog factor : 10/10 After cocktails, between courses whilst we were asking varying degrees of random questions, alcohol bravado kicked in and I asked whether she fancied a snog, to which she said yes, but not here. Needless to say I leaned forward and kissed her, but not full on as that would be rather teenager like. Several more kisses were exchanged post dinner, but nothing that could be described as full on tongue ticklers.

Going Dutch : ££££ - I picked up the wine at the bar to make up for the earlier errors and we split dinner. There was no quibble and I didn't really try to be a gentleman. Probably a mistake given that I was smitten and should have gone out for the impress factor.

After effects : The following morning's hangover prompted a text exchange of comparable symptoms. Just one or two. The latter was only replied to the following day. I must confess I don't play games and certainly don't conform to rules regarding dating. If I like someone, I tell them or definitely don't go silent. What is the point? Anyway, the texting became stilted. 24 hr responses are not for me. So when Sunday evening's text from me was not replied to I realised that she wasn't interested. Now I'm not one to give up on things I like. Remember the wise Cheryl Cole song, 'fight for your love'... er... right. So I've not heard anything and it's been a week. I know she was planning a a break to Spain and there were work commitments, but it looks like I've crashed and burned with this one. Kind of glad I went dutch now. Tight arse that I am.