Romance, if you know what I mean…

Romance, if you know what I mean…


It’s been far too long since I have written a post and I can assure you it’s not due to a lack of dilemmas. Truth be known I have a backlog of stories to write and each new day presents multiple opportunities for fresh material. Oh for the day I would have to use my imagination to come up with a quandary!

One of the many times I have asked myself “did that really just happen?” was on the drive home from Date #2 with a guy I had been surprisingly impressed by on Date #1 (at this stage the requirements for me being impressed loosely hang on the absence of zombies or chainsaws and the fact that they were born sometime before Mmmbop was written). Having enjoyed our conversation over coffee the first time we met, we arranged to meet for dinner another night that week. 

Date #2 also kicked off well with a glass of wine and the usual “how was your day?” exchange. Said glass of wine almost fell to the floor though when my little charmer said:

“So, here’s one for you. I’ve been in the biggest drought known to man…(pause)…if you know what I mean“…(longer pause and awkward eye-contact, during which I become acutely aware of the fact that we’re sitting sandwiched between two other tables, close enough for them to hear every winsome word)

He continues:

“It’s been about one year now. Oh, except for the one-night-stand I had with this girl who totally took advantage of me, so that doesn’t count. We met at this party and [blah blah blah WAY TOO MUCH DETAIL of that night’s encounter, the following day’s discomfort and the resulting broken heart]…”.

Perhaps encouraged by the fact I hadn’t stabbed my eye with a fork and left the bar, he carried on without even offering me a chance to respond:

“So yeah apart from that it’s been about a year and I just don’t know what to do with myself. I get so lonely I sometimes go up to a bar on K Road by myself, get really drunk and hope that someone will come home with me but I usually end up going home alone and banging my head against the wall in my apartment.”

I have omitted Section 3.4A of the emotional essay which introduced the high-school sweetheart turned baby-mamma turned lover turned leaver turned I-don’t-know-why-she-left-I-still-love-her-why-did-this-happen-we-could-make-it-work-she-stole-my-heart, purely for the sake of saving your precious time. Actually there were two of those girls, of course.

You get the picture, but I’d better tell you how it ended:

  • He paused his download to ask “WHAT ABOUT YOU EMMA?”
  • I replied with something to the effect of “I’m not going to sleep with you”
  • He said my reward will be in heaven
  • I sculled back my wine as quickly as possible
  • He said he’s never met anyone so amazing and has told me things he’s never told anyone and he really likes me but needs sex now more than anything else
  • I tried to end the conversation/counselling session and leave
  • He said “Such a shame, Emma. Feel free to ring me anytime if you want to come and watch me surf or something”

I sincerely hope my reward is in heaven for enduring evenings such as these. God bless the internet.


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