I had my 20th first date for the year earlier tonight. Let's call him Dan. We met at one of my favourite small bars, one that that is convenient to both of our workplaces. He had some wine, I had some excellent Polish vodka martinis, and we enjoyed some conversation and upmarket tapas.
Truth is, he was nice enough, but there were so many red flags it was like a Chinese military parade. He only split up with his husband a few weeks ago. He's a lightweight drinker. He's 32 and had never eaten pate before our date. He mentioned spending his Saturday nights watching True Blood marathons on his home cinema... alone. He loves McDonalds. And to judge from the way he baffled our cocktail waiter, he has no idea how to speak to servers.
Worst of all, it quickly became apparent that a guy I'd dated once a couple of months ago (let's call him Noel) was his ex. But according to Dan, their breakup was only a month old. It seems that Noel had broken up with Dan a while back, but only only informed Dan of it recently.
Classy.
I further transpired that Dan already knew that I'd met Noel, after he'd shown Noel my profile photo a few days earlier and Noel had confessed. He only told me because I realised the truth from things he mentioned in the conversation and, deciding that I needed to do the right thing, admitted it to him. So there's another red flag - he can't deal with breaking awkward news.
Perhaps it's fortuitous that my date with Noel had been one of the worst dates of my life. He'd shown up already tipsy and proceeded to get even more hammered. He had no social skills and seemed to think that sniping at me and mildly abusing me was charming. In retrospect, he may have been acting out on his frustration about his home life... not that he mentioned being involved with someone, of course.
Since then, apparently, the obnoxious Noel has moved on and is now in a satisfying relationship with someone else - his profile has duly vanished from Scruff - while I'm left to deal with his rejects. And so another blow to my sense of self-worth is recorded.
And in a final piece of humiliation... I have to admit that I'd see Dan again. He's gauche, not terribly attractive and a bit of a feeb, but he's nice, he seems to have a good heart, and hey, I like True Blood as much as the next homosexual. That's how low my expectations have sunk.
Truth is, he was nice enough, but there were so many red flags it was like a Chinese military parade. He only split up with his husband a few weeks ago. He's a lightweight drinker. He's 32 and had never eaten pate before our date. He mentioned spending his Saturday nights watching True Blood marathons on his home cinema... alone. He loves McDonalds. And to judge from the way he baffled our cocktail waiter, he has no idea how to speak to servers.
Worst of all, it quickly became apparent that a guy I'd dated once a couple of months ago (let's call him Noel) was his ex. But according to Dan, their breakup was only a month old. It seems that Noel had broken up with Dan a while back, but only only informed Dan of it recently.
Classy.
I further transpired that Dan already knew that I'd met Noel, after he'd shown Noel my profile photo a few days earlier and Noel had confessed. He only told me because I realised the truth from things he mentioned in the conversation and, deciding that I needed to do the right thing, admitted it to him. So there's another red flag - he can't deal with breaking awkward news.
Perhaps it's fortuitous that my date with Noel had been one of the worst dates of my life. He'd shown up already tipsy and proceeded to get even more hammered. He had no social skills and seemed to think that sniping at me and mildly abusing me was charming. In retrospect, he may have been acting out on his frustration about his home life... not that he mentioned being involved with someone, of course.
Since then, apparently, the obnoxious Noel has moved on and is now in a satisfying relationship with someone else - his profile has duly vanished from Scruff - while I'm left to deal with his rejects. And so another blow to my sense of self-worth is recorded.
And in a final piece of humiliation... I have to admit that I'd see Dan again. He's gauche, not terribly attractive and a bit of a feeb, but he's nice, he seems to have a good heart, and hey, I like True Blood as much as the next homosexual. That's how low my expectations have sunk.
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