Meeting
Rupert
I’ve
said it before and I’ll say it again: I absolutely
suck at dating. Up until a week ago I was of the opinion
that I should just give up completely and accept my role
as Spinster and Crazy Cat Woman; I mean I’m already
half way there, you know there’s a problem when your
longest lasting relationship has been with a seventeen pound
ginger tabby that drools. It’s not like I haven’t
tried to conquer the dating thing, I’ve done it all
from the speed dating to Lavalife to being fixed up by my
mother and all of them have been complete disasters. I’ve
come to the conclusion that dating and me are like oil and
vinegar — we’re never going to mix. I was thinking
that I should stop and get off the dating merry-go-round
because I was so tired of the ride, I even toyed with the
thought that there just might not be anyone out there who
truly understands me. I put so much time and energy into
trying to find someone that I have worn myself out both
physically and emotionally. I thought dating was supposed
to be fun. Isn’t it? Aren’t we supposed to get
excited at the thought of meeting someone new? In the beginning
I used to but now even the thought of having to gear myself
up for another fun-filled evening of twenty questions is
about as enticing as driving nails into my cranium. And
so last week I made the decision that I wasn’t going
to try anymore, if I was meant to date then the date would
have to find me. And it did.
It
began on a patio in the Beaches on a warm Sunday evening.
Beer, wine and conversation were flowing like a river and
my three friends and I were thoroughly enjoying ourselves.
I had no idea that the night would turn out the way that
it did and maybe that’s why it worked. Two of our group
left leaving just Dawn and myself to finish off our third
pitcher. I was still fairly sober at this point when I saw
him approaching from inside the bar. My initial reaction
was that of disdain, I had already given up on the idea
of ever being able to have an intelligent conversation with
a man without him thinking he was going to get into my pants,
so the thought of having to put up with yet another yob
was giving me a headache. I could hear him talking to Dawn
and realized very quickly that not only was he from Manchester
but that he was also very intelligent. I could hear him
saying time and time again that ‘everyone always wants
something. I’m always being taken for a ride.’
I interrupted the conversation by grabbing him by the arm
and leading him onto the patio where I proceeded to lambaste
him for giving up so easily and for not being thankful for
the fact that he was doing exactly what he wanted to do
with his life. And so we sat there until they were putting
up the chairs and turning on the lights and when Dawn and
his friend came to find us I knew I didn’t want to
go home. So we walked hand in hand down the street talking
non-stop and laughing like I haven’t laughed in years.
There was no tension, no ‘what do you do for a living?’
no small talk. He told me intimate things about himself,
things that he had obviously been waiting to say but had
no one to say them to. The night ended with the sun coming
up on my balcony. Meatloaf was playing quietly on the stereo
and he and I were singing along, much to the anger of my
psycho neighbor downstairs. Tea was brewed and thoughts
were shared and I felt a lightness seeping back into my
heart.
I
have no idea why this happened but I am so glad that it
did. I was so tired of the run around, so tired of giving
all that I had and feeling like I was going to be alone
for the rest of my life and then he came along. For one
night. For one night I remembered what it felt like to not
care, to be carefree and to actually enjoy the company I
was in. I have spoken to him since then and every time it’s
that same feeling of enjoying the act of talking and listening.
I might have thoughts of romance but they’re not in
the forefront anymore, the simpler thought of friendship
has taken over for the very first time. Thanks Rupert, it
was the best non-date I’ve ever had.
he