#baddatetale4

[fatgirlsguidetodating]

Blog: Bad date tale 4. The Ex Files.

Setting: A cocktail bar in Swanston Street.

Who: Mark, a late 30’s primary school teacher.

How I met him: Online, RSVP. My second online date after the disaster that was Wayne.

What happened: Mark and I meet on the steps out the front of Flinders Street. “Under the clocks” for any Melburnians reading this. We had been chatting about 6 weeks before this meeting. He looked a little different than his photos- a little older, a little grayer, not quite as athletic but was still a handsome man and hell I’m the last person to harp on about looks and photos- but I spot him easily enough and he sees me and makes a beeline for me. He gives me a kiss, I assume it’s aimed for the cheek but instead he kisses me on the lips which takes me back a little as I’m not used to that informality in a greeting by someone I don’t know but it doesn’t bother me. It’s windy, but not super cold for a November, and we decide to walk up the road rather than jump on a tram which would be pretty busy this time of night on a Tuesday. As we walk we talk. It’s easy to talk to him. Our talk is playful, as our online chats have always been banter, and thus it makes me instantly comfortable, like I’ve known him for longer than I have. At the cocktail bar he pulls my seat out for me (20 points to Gryffindor) and then we sit down. We order: him a red wine, me an espresso martini.

“My ex loved those.” He says.

“Cool. She had good taste then.” I reply.

“HAD.” He corrects me with a grin. “She broke up with me after all.”

“Had then.” I agree.

I don’t know it right then but this will be the theme of our date.

We already know a lot about one another so most of our conversation is joking around. I know his fave footy team, drink, food, place to visit, dream holiday, dream job, dream place to live etc. In some respects this is good because it, like I said earlier, makes me feel like I’ve known him forever. But when a silence looms here and there I can’t think of much to ask to bring the chatting back. I notice occasionally something I say or do brings a sort of frown to his face or he looks like he’s a million miles away (turns out it’s more like 28 k’s).

We get another drink- this time I go for a mojito. He has another wine. “My ex hated mojito’s.” He tells me.

“Oh-Kay.” I say, not really sure how I’m meant to respond to this.

And suddenly it’s like the floodgates have opened!

We get something to eat, to share; a plate of wedges with sour cream and chilli sauce. (His ex was obsessed with chilli I find out.) When I inadvertently get some chilli sauce in the sour cream he is pissed off. “Can’t you keep them separate?” He complains.

I don’t think this is a major crime but it turns out that even though he likes both sauces he doesn’t like them being mixed in their little bowls. Just on his wedges and in his stomach.

“My ex always did that, she’s such a fucking messy eater. I kept threatening to buy her a bib.” He tells me.

Sigh.

For the next 42 minutes (yes I counted) before I could make a good excuse to leave I learnt more about what his ex liked and didn’t like than I did about him. It was clear from the way he spoke about her he wasn’t still in love with her (like bad date tale #3 Wayne), but he clearly wasn’t totally over the breakup either.

I went to the bathroom where I wondered how in movies or tv shows they manage to escape out a window or through a back entrance when clearly that was not possible. Plus I couldn’t bring myself to do something like that anyway. Instead I resorted to ringing my friend and getting her to ring me in 10 minutes with an emergency.

And she does. Though I have a crazy hard time keeping a straight face at her Emergancy: “I need you to take me to the ER, I got a dildo stuck up my butt and I can’t turn it off or get it out,” is her excuse.

Though I tell him she’s hurt her leg.

“Can’t someone else take her?” He asks.

I put on a disappointed face, give a rueful shrug and say, “nope, I wish but no. Still that’s what best friends are for right?” (I’m still awaiting my Oscar from this performance btw!) It’s only later I wonder why he didn’t think about the fact that I’m not exactly in the position to drive.

We pay- halves- and he walks me to the tram stop. “You kicking on?” I ask.

“Nah, going to go pick up some things from my exes.” He says.

Shocker. (His ex lives in Chelsea- just over 28 Ks from the city.)

We say goodbye and part ways.

Outcome: He texts me a few days later and says he’s had a great time and wants to see me again. I reply that I had a nice time but I’m pretty busy the next few weeks. I don’t hear from him again. But I do see on Facebook a month and a bit later he’s in a relationship with a lady from India. (Not the ex!) Nice enough guy, we get along perfect, but I couldn’t deal with ghosts of girlfriends past.