Quantity is no guarantee of quality.
I went on three dates in one day. With the wisdom of hindsight this was probably excessive! At the time, I thought the more frogs I worked through, the greater the chance of finding a prince.
The first date 6.00 am, I combined my date with my morning walk. I was multi-tasking, to assist with time management.
We were walking along the beach when his sneakers got wet. I thought he was going to cry, (what a sooky la-la)! Personally, I am a barefoot kind of gal.My feelings about our incompatibility only increased.
He asked, “What are you doing for the rest of the day.”
I believe that “honesty is the best policy,” so I replied, “I have a few more coffee dates lined up.” _
He paused looked at me and said, _“I find people in that position very unattractive.”
I pondered his statement for a few moments and reflected on the possible interpretations. I realised that there was only one. He has just told me, that he found me, “very unattractive”. The Goldilocks inside of me knew that this particular bowl of porridge was way too cold for me.
It was a very brisk walk back to our cars. I left him washing the ocean water and sand out of his sneakers.
Undaunted I returned home to change for my next date.
11 am. We met at my favourite rendezvous, a licensed café by the beach. He arrived five minutes late. He had a slightly seedy look about him and was dressed all in black. I tried not to laugh when I notice his lizard skin shoes. He looked like he was on his way to a night club. I checked my watch, it was definitely 11.05 am!
He was not unattractive, but his face had the world weary look, of one who has over indulged. He did not work and lived off his investment income. His favourite past times were travelling on cruise ships and hanging out at the casino. I love to get off the beaten track and travel without an agenda. Gambling bores me. The only time I went to the local casino, the bar was filled with lecherous old men, wearing lots of gold jewellery and the latest fashion accessory draped over their arms; young brassy blondes with fake tits, the greater the cleavage, the lower cut the dress, the greater the prize. I could imagine him there.
He told me his last girlfriend was Filipino and the one before that Russian. Hmm I thought, did he find them in a mail order catalogue?
By noon he was well into his second beer, ready to settle in for an afternoon drinking session. I was still on my first soda water. I excused myself to go to the ladies room and whilst powdering my nose, I arranged for an emergency rescue phone call.
I returned to our table and right on cue, my phone rang. “Sorry I have to answer this,” I told him,” it could be important.” I answered the phone, listened for a moment then said, “Oh really, that’s terrible, no probs I will be there in 15 minutes.” I hung up, looked at him and said “I’m sorry, I have to go, one of my girlfriends is having a domestic crisis.”
I left, thinking _this bowl of porridge is way too smooth for me. _Besides I am a stickler for personal hygiene and I suspected that there may have been a few too many spoons, dipped into this particular bowl.
The last date of the day. We met for coffee at 3pm. He seemed nice enough. We made small talk. After I finished my cup of tea I excused myself and went to the toilet. Just as I returned his phone rang. “Oh really,” he said. “No probs I can be there in 15 minutes.” He smiled at me, “Sorry, I’m going to have to leave.”
Emergency rescue call I realised. Obviously, I was not to his taste. Forlornly I wondered Where is my bowl of porridge that is just right?.