You’re 44. Get Over It Already.
Last night’s date was via Match.com.
The Place: Marylebone
The Drinks: Wine
The Gentleman was suited and booted and looked like his picture. Ahead of the game! However, things began to get a bit dicey when he started sweating uncontrollably and then over-apologizing for it, saying that he had just been to the gym beforehand. I found this rather unbelievable given that he was wearing a three-piece suit with a pocket watch (because you brought that to the gym, right?) and furthermore that he was stammering excuse after excuse about it. In hindsight, I should have just taken the cue from the three-piece, which was salmon and reminded me of upholstery fabric used to stiffen a Zoot suit and give the impression of bigger shoulders.
Still, it’s flattering that someone is nerve wracked and shining their best shoes (or in this case, suit) in anticipation of meeting me, so I treated the situation kindly (or blindly, if you prefer) disregarding the hyperhydrosis situation entirely and instead engaging in witty repartee.
Rather than ask me anything about myself (do they not teach you this at all-boys’ school?), the gentleman proceeded to regale me with unending stories of things he had done as a teenager; about the time his parents had left him in charge of the house and he’d done something or other that was naughty, blah blah blah blah GLORY DAYS.
I can’t honestly say what was more tragic; the fact that he clearly could not converse without reminiscing about how super awesome amazing radical cool he was in the 1980/90’s or the fact that he did not have the people skills to recognize he was boring me out of any possibility for a second course, never mind a second date.