They say that in 2049 online dating will be so prevalent that it will actually be odd to not meet your future partner on the internet. To me this is almost a relief. Well, I suppose there are good and bad things to everything - the good being that through this way at least I'm able to get to know someone on a more intellectual level before jumping the sack. The bad, being that in 2049 I will be well past my peak and probably not wanting to date anyway.
Either way I'm happy with this statistic. The truth is that we've all had a good deal of bad date mishaps; from the awkward hello at the beginning of the date, to the sloppy kiss goodbye. Let's face it, at least through the wonderful medium of the internet we have a starting topic to kick the conversation, the guy (or gal) has some idea of our likes or dislikes, and you leave the date feeling a sort of 'completeness'. There is nothing worse than sitting there in silence hearing the thundering sound of the tick tocking of the clock, begging to God to speed those little clock hands faster and make this miserable evening be gone, but unfortunately not forgotten.
This brings me to a rather 'memorable' date.
Where do I even begin with Rich?? Well, Rich was of course gorgeous. Always impeccably dressed in a crisp suit, cappuccino in one hand and The Guardian in the other. I would always see him walk past the cafe I would be at and my eyes would just be drawn like magnets to him. This little scenario would happen every day - I would see him but we wouldn't talk, and over time in my mind I created my very own personality of him (intelligent, funny and caring), what he did for a living (had just started up his own advertising company), where he lived (...in a big house), and even what sort of car he drove (a top of the range Mercedes). Don't judge me, we've all done this.
It took a while for us to be introduced properly and in no time at all he asked me out on a date. I tried to act all sophisticated and mature, but as soon as he was out of sight I jumped on the spot like a child overwhelmed with excitement. In my head I was convinced that this was my dream guy - that he was perfect, we would have a stunningly expensive June wedding and our first child would be called Phoebe (whether it was a girl or boy).
How brutal reality is.
By the time I got to the bar, Rich was already there sitting at a corner table looking absolutely gorgeous. It was decided. This was the guy for me.
"I ordered you a drink," he said as he kissed me on the cheek to say hello. My eyes averted to the thick, creamy drink in front of me with some sort of vegetable sticking out of it. I may have said something like, "Oooh, yum!! I love margaritas!" but my brain may have been frantically searching for the nearest plant to dump this in.
It didn't start well. I had built him up so perfectly in my head that the slightest thing he did would be a crashing disappointment.
"So, I work as an estate agent. Just sold a studio flat," he would inform.
Ahhh, there's crashing disappointment no. 1.
"Just had to sell my Vauxhall Nova. Getting a Golf as a company car," and disappointment no.2.
"That should show my neighbours that I'm going places. Bloody bastards keeps throwing their rubbish in my front garden." There goes no. 3.
It doesn't matter, I would tell myself. These are obviously trivial things. What's important is his personality.
But as the date went on, that perception I had of him had by now completely escaped me. It turned out he wasn't at all funny but in fact too self-involved with keeping up a 'serious' persona to even crack a joke. He certainly wasn't intelligent as I had to explain to him why oil and water don't mix. And as for caring, well, let's just say he let me walk back home in the rain late in the evening, even though he was driving my way. What a perfect gentleman!!
It's safe to assume that no 2nd date was arranged.
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