The preamble:
Mr #33 and I hadn't really spoken a tremendous amount, but from the few messages we exchanged I thought he sounded polite and sweet, and the fact he wasn't determined to take me out to get wasted was a bit of a bonus.
The man:
Age: 39
Profession: Security guard
The date:
For once, this was a quiet Sunday afternoon date with coffee in mind, which was rather refreshing given how boozy some of my dates have been of late.
Events of note:
Trying to negotiate a cappuccino-tash. New territory. I think I won against the foam though...it's a shame he didn't...
The Verdict:
Mr #33 and I hadn't really spoken a tremendous amount, but from the few messages we exchanged I thought he sounded polite and sweet, and the fact he wasn't determined to take me out to get wasted was a bit of a bonus.
The man:
Age: 39
Profession: Security guard
Random factoid: Recently had to process 800 security passes at work. Mmm, riveting!
The date:
For once, this was a quiet Sunday afternoon date with coffee in mind, which was rather refreshing given how boozy some of my dates have been of late.
We met at Waterloo, and my first thoughts were 'is that him, or is that an Italian tourist from the nineties?' He didn't look a lot like his pictures, which were obviously selected from about a decade ago. Let me paint the picture for you: flat top salt 'n' pepper hair. swarthy tan, leather jacket, Burberry scarf, those very contrived over-frayed jeans, gold chain and Timberland boots. Quite a picture. He also had some expensive-looking shades by some designer that I can only assume is entirely fictitious, and he picked them up on the market for a fiver.
But he looked very nervous bless him, and for the brief walk to the coffee shop he was a little tricky to get chat out of. Once perched with froffee coffees he warmed up a bit after we covered his home town in great detail, as it happened to be where I went to uni which was a bit of a conversational godsend given his skills at making small talk.
I'll be honest, he wasn't the brightest star in the galaxy, and it wasn't the most stimulating of chats, even though he was nice enough. We talked about Jack Russells, flatpack furniture, people being rude, supermarkets and bomb scares. Oh, and he lives with his mum. At the age of 39.
It was all very nice, but after one hot beverage it was definitely time to call it a day. We said our polite goodbyes and went our separate ways.
Memorable Quotes:
'I was talking to my daughter the other day...I mean SISTER!' Hmm...
'I was talking to my daughter the other day...I mean SISTER!' Hmm...
'I've got a 40" telly in my bedroom'. Hmm again...
Events of note:
Trying to negotiate a cappuccino-tash. New territory. I think I won against the foam though...it's a shame he didn't...
The Verdict:
Nice guy, nothing in common, no attraction whatsoever, and I'm sorry, but STILL LIVES AT HOME? Nup, not for me thanks.
