Sunday 8 July 2007

THE DAILY MALE continues...

Monday. I awake with My Little Pony(tail) on my mind and curse myself for having handed him back his card. And why on earth did I tell him I was so busy? Fired up by the challenge of a mission improbable, I manage, through a circuitous and convoluted route which involves phoning a girlfriend to text the singer to email his mate who knows someone who might…I manage to obtain his number.

I text him some cock and bull story about a friend needing a new kitchen. Well ‘e’s a builder, in ‘e? He texts me back that he’d be happy to help and we begin an ‘eeger corispondance’. (Normally, I drop men instantly if they’re illiterate but for some reason, this one slips past the Spelling Police.) We arrange to get together next weekend.

Sunday. He arrives at 7 p.m. to pick me up for our first date. He hugs me 'allo, and as he enters my flat, he immediately admits to being very nervous. When I ask why (as if I didn’t know) he says he’s never dated an older woman before and wonders what we’ll find to talk about… Who wants to talk?

I confess to being nervous too which is a blatant lie and I pour us two large Screwdrivers, heavy on the vodka. He relaxes; we drink, we chat and then we set off out. He’s driving a mid range nice clean car which turns out to belong to his father. I’m sixty one years old and I’m dating a man who lives with his parents!

He holds my hand as we walk to the restaurant which makes me feel all girlie (again...) and we have no problem with conversation over a Thai meal which he pays for. We then drive to the Odeon Marble Arch and he stands behind me in the queue with his arms hugged around my waist. I lean back against him feeling incredibly happy and irrationally secure. He insists on buying the cinema tickets despite my offer to go Dutch.

I have an economic dilemma at the box office when I wonder fleetingly whether I should tell him I qualify for the senior discount. I decide, for once, to keep my lip zipped We sit in the back row mouth feeding each other chocolate raisins like a pair of soppy teenagers, thereby missing half the film.

No comments: