psych me out

Hmmm. Well, we met for a drink at the Playhouse Bar. He seemed nervous (shaky hands) which always puts me right off. I like a man with confidence – not arrogance, you understand, just quiet confidence.

He later said that his initial impression of me was that I was “very much yourself” whatever the heck that means… Answers on a postcard please.

We sat outside in the pub garden by the river, under trees all strung with fairy lights, and chatted. He has a fascinating job – information architecture – and a PhD in psychology. He plays the guitar and is forming a band (yes, I know). He has a sister and two nieces of whom he seems genuinely fond, but no pets.

After about an hour we walked on to Thai Lanna for a meal – where he barely ate a thing while I tucked heartily into two starters and a green chicken curry – and finally made it to The Belgian Monk in time for last orders.

He is conventional although well-travelled and politically left-leaning. And he’s not funny. I laughed alot, but mostly at myself. Sometimes I crack myself up. It was either that or bang my forehead on the table repeatedly.

As we went our separate ways at the end of the evening (and whatever happened to men who walk a woman home after a date?) he said “I don’t think I’ve laughed so much in ages” and then the dreaded (but equally longed-for: after all, nobody wants the other person not to have liked them enough to want to see them again) “we should do this again some time”.

No, I don’t think so.

I ran all the way home.

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