The Date



I’m lonely. I went through a long masochistic break-up during which the last miserable version of relationship kept dragging on and on , just like that small piece of shit stuck in dog’s hair after they poop. They try to get rid of it, they drag their bum all across the lawn, but it might take ages before they get thoroughly clean.

I felt exactly like that dog for a really long time. I was obsessed with getting rid of that shitty piece of relationship, that I lost touch with everything else around me. Books were left unread, coffee-stained just because they served as saucers more than anything else. The room got slightly dirtier with each day. My friends became less familiar as our relationships slowly faded away. I found myself sitting in the office wondering what was I originally hired for, because I somehow knew staring at the wall wasn’t it. I fell into my bed every night, like somebody banged me on the head with a hammer, but as soon as I would get the bare minimum of sleep, my restlessness would wake me up around 4 am.

It’s been 6 months since the more definite version of a break-up was finally achieved. I slowly started to miss rather than dread certain things about intimacy. I slowly started to notice people around me. My old friends and new faces as well. I followed all the recommended healthy lifestyle remedies and I really tried hard to put my books into better use, and start using proper saucers. I came to a conclusion I will never fully move on, unless I start replacing old painful memories with fresh experiences with somebody else. I opened up to the world in general, and I was ready to take whomever the world decided would be the best rebound man for me. There was no saying no, and I always had to say yes. That was the only rule I had to obey.

As it turned out, the world wasn’t particulalry generous when it presented me with one very boring man my age. I didn’t know those existed, but apparently they do. Young, tall, skiny, playing football and eating hamburgers. An average man my age is so young, that his way of communication is something I can’t even begin to imagine to understand. He lives close to me and yet he was texting me throughout the day with nothing particular to say. Was he trying to show interest? I was  unpleasantly surprised and slightly anxious as I usually end up feeling when spending time with my grandmother. Oh, the irony.

Instead of wanting to meet me for a  walk, a beer, a picnic that leads to skinny dipping in the nearest pond,  the man decided to have all the best, most precious first moments any two people can have, on the Whatsapp app. On a fucking app. And some people actually confirmed to me that that’s normal.

A big moment of shock and silence inside my head.

After a while I decided to think that there might be many interesting texts you could send to somebody you like. You could be funny, informative, sweet, sexy or all those things at once.  If you are a boring  twat, however, you will ask them three times throughout the day what’s up?  How was this part of your day today? And that’s what this man was doing to me.

We did go on one date, however. I think I agreed to it just because it was truly the most elegant way of stopping the texts. A short summary of my thoughts on the date goes something like this:

He is the way he is. He has a family that loves him, and for a fact I know that he also has some friends. Yes, he has football as the centrepiece of his daily activities, and he doesn’t indulge in any particular form of art, music included. Apparently, there’s a whole world of people like that out there, but I am not one of them. So how the fuck did this happen to me?

When I asked him what he’s reading, or what he likes to read in theory, even though maybe he’s not doing it because of that and this, he seriously took some time to explain that he likes reading newspapers. On the weekends. The word he used in Spanish was not even newspaper, it was news, which could easily be his facebook newsfeed, for all I know and care.

I smiled. I really  gave it my best. I said I don’t really think that’s such an important thing anyway. I said I like films as well, and I meant it. Which films is it that you like, I asked.

Well, he said, Blockbuster Number One and Three are my favorite. And the one made by singer/model/actor/now-a-shitty-filmmaker, you know him for sure. He plays football as well. Do you like his latest film?

Oh my, I didn’t have the opportunity to see that masterpiece, I’m afraid.

Then by all means, we should go see it together one of these days, what do you say? He asks.

I need to use the bathroom. Big smile as I got off my chair.

Where the fuck is that fucking cigarette machine? I was doing so well for weeks, smoking only on most rare hedonistic ocassions, but now I actually find this level of boredom to be too stressful for me.

And where were we, you might wonder. Even though I am so lucky as to be in Spain, he took me to the most plain looking fast-food chain restaurant with a spanish name so I couldn’t even grasp the weight of the mistake I was about to make by letting him choose the place. He assembled all his plain little ideas into one plain little pile and then he put them into action all by himself, without asking me anything. To impress my passive self.

And it’s true. I was passive. So I left the date with a fresh pack of cigarettes, and left the car without even thinking about kissing him, or maybe thinking for one very desperate second. But I didn’t. I went to my window, smoked and thought, well, here’s another one I won’t be seeing again. I was sure it was mutual. It just didn’t work. I can’t play darts, I don’t get football, and I definitely don’t understand who is stupid enough to seriously play lottery and make bets.

First thing in the morning, though, he started with his dreadful texts.

I have a feeling this might not be the most interesting read for other people, but I had to get it out of my system and try to figure out how does somebody so different from me gets in my way? Are we maybe more similar than I would like to think? Am I just as boring as him? It got me thinking about what is it that I do in my life that I like, and that would attract somebody who I find interesting as well? After laughing at myself and all the less elegant ways of avoiding texts from this man, I came to the same conclusion as always. I need to work on myself. Seriously and as fast as fucking possible. Develop skills and invest time into activities that I love and appreciate. My kind of people will come along with it. I have to believe they will.