Vanity Fair

    "Did you see her?" Phillip exclaims as he eyes the backside of a passerby.  "She was completely checking me out," and with that he lets out a laugh.

    Now, I witnessed this 'checking out' and by no means were this girls' intentions anything more than a glance - a normal glance which happens when you walk past someone.  And yet Phillip is still glaring at her back as she strolls down the road away from him.  He helps himself to another chuckle and continues walking.  I say walking - it's more of a strut.  This man is Derek Zoolander.  There is no other character that can describe him better. 

    We've spent the last hour in a cafe.  It was my idea really as I hoped it would give me a chance to get to know him better, but in the entire hour I only managed to utter two words, 'Shut' and 'up' and both of these were muttered under my breath.  So after a while I gave up on trying to have a conversation and just let Zoolander, I mean Phillip, talk at me. 

    And now we're on our way to a fun fair, probably because Phillip wants to see just how better looking he is than everyone else there (Whilst at the cafe he said, "I am 80% more attractive than anyone else here!").  He's not even walking alongside me.  He's very selfishly taken the 'leader' position and I'm just trailing behind him like a little child. 

    Why why why am I here?  Why do I continue to torture myself with these awful human beings just to avoid that ever so tragic, "No, I won't go on a date with you,"

    But, I'm looking at this as a learning curve.  For example, Phillip has very kindly pointed out that I have an oily T-zone and drastic action must be taken against it.  He's even jotted down the name of the skincare brand I should be using.  See, it's not all bad...

    "Fancy going on the Dodgems?" I point out trying to inject some fun into this date.

Phillip ponders this for a while and then comes to a stiff conclusion, "No, it messes with my hair,"

    How?  You have used at least 3 cans of hairspray on it.  There's probably an O-Zone hole the size of France hovering above you!

    I look around desperately trying to find something that he might be able to enjoy.  I refrain from pointing out the House of Mirrors just in case he has a heart-attack when he faces himself looking short, fat and incredibly ugly.  Actually, on second thoughts...

    "What would you like to do?" I ask him.

    "Huh?  Oh.  Nothing really.  Just thought we could get some candy floss and sit around,"

    What a great idea, Phillip.  Sitting around will make the time go faster. 

    We've found a semi-quiet spot on the far end of the fun fair, and ten minutes into sitting with him I find this strange urge to throttle him.  He's been talking non stop without taking a breath and not once has he asked any questions about me.  I can now understand why at the age of twenty-four he has never had a serious relationship.  Clearly, the only person he has time for is himself. 

    "I was the champion at boxing at university," he continues. "But my coach forced me to stop because he thought that I was far too good looking,"

    I almost choke on the candy floss.  "Huh?" I question quizzically. 

    "Well, you know.  It would be horrible if someone were to hit me on my face and I had to walk around with one of those noses," he pulls an ugly face as he says it.

    "It would be absolutely tragic," I say clearly meaning it to be sarcastic.  But if he heard me, he gave no indication.  Instead he just continued to talk about himself. 

    "My last girlfriend was a Playmate," he spills out. 

    "OK," I say awkwardly.  How am I meant to respond??  "And how did you meet her?"

    Phillip faces me with excitement written all over his expression.  "Funny you should ask," he begins.  "One of my good friends is a photographer.  I went out partying with him and he introduced me to this gorgeous, little blonde.  Apparently, she took one look at me and asked my friend for my number,"

    He says this so casually.  This man does not own a single gram of modesty. 
    I'm stuck on what to say now.  He's rambled on about himself for such a long time now that I think even he is burnt out. 
    "Maybe we should take a walk along the river," I suggest, looking ahead at the sparkling water.  "It's really lovely now that the weather is warmer,"
    But Phillip just looks at me with a raised eyebrow.  "Really?" he says in a patronising tone.  "You think this is lovely?"  He points out at the stretch of the Thames that's in view.  Boats are trailing along, and on this side of the river bank people are out picnicking.  It's a romantic picture and if Phillip needs to question that, well he's just not human. 
    "I've been on the Nile," he begins.  "Now that was lovely,"
    My hand clenches into a fist and I swear to you, I'm seconds away from it meeting with his nose.  I've had enough of this.  Even I am not this patient. 
    "Phil, this has b-"
    "It's Phillip," he corrects me.
    "Phillip, this has been rather special, but I must head back home now,"
    "That's fine.  I've got to get ready for a private party anyway.  There are going to be so many hot girls there," he almost punches the air with his fist as he says it.
    "That's...great," I say and begin to edge myself away. 
    "Come and hug me then, darling," he orders with his arms open.
    I do as I'm instructed and make my way to him, my arms wrapping around his body.  He squeezes me so tight my feet leave the ground for a split second. 
    "Speak soon," I say to him with a little wave and walk away. 
   
3 months later I hear that Phillip has been banned from several gyms around London.  Apparently he was getting too 'touchy' when comparing abs...