Hmmm, that didn’t last.
You’re not really surprised are you? No. Me neither.
So, after not being able to schedule a second date for nearly a week due to both of us having prior commitments, we had tentatively agreed to get together on Sunday. But no definite plans were made. No actual film times or restaurants were agreed.
As it happened, my Sunday lunch with girlfriends carried on until after 5pm (girls: talking: infinity) and by the time I realised the lateness of the hour and called him back, he – quite reasonably – had made other plans. No problem. ‘Next week’ we said.
Then he calls me at 5.20pm last night when I’m still at work, suggesting that he come over to my place with pizza and a DVD.
MEN – PAY ATTENTION: Woman like a little notice before a date. There is stuff which needs to be done. Don’t make me tell you what kind of stuff.
Also, women like a date to be a date, especially this early in the dating. I don’t think its unreasonable of me not to want a man I have only met once to come over to my house for the evening, unless I intend to have sex with him, which I didn’t.
I explain that I’m still at work and say I’ll call him as soon as I leave – mostly because I’ve realised that all he talks about is sex which, while funny initially, is beginning to wear a little thin and which is certainly not appropriate for an ‘overheard by colleagues’ conversation.
So, I call him back.
Me: “I do want to see you again, but I don’t feel comfortable inviting you over until I know you a little better, so how about Wednesday night? We could try that tapas place? Do you like Spanish food?”
Him: “I can’t handle the fact that I have inspired real fear in you. It sickens me. I would be too scared ever to touch you. That can’t end well.”
Me: “Its okay, really. Its not fear, I’d just prefer to go slowly and cautiously. So, at the risk of sounding like a loser by asking again, how about Wednesday night?”
Him: a whole load more nonsense, getting progressively more narky… okay, yes, I paraphrased that part.
Honestly, man, get a grip. This doesn’t have to be a huge drama. You’re not getting in my pants tonight, that’s all. Actually, there was never any chance that you’d be getting in my pants tonight, but I realise you didn’t know that, so I’m cutting you some ‘disappointed and thwarted’ slack here. Or at least I was, until now, when you are reminding me PRECISELY why I loathe relationships.
Sod you. I’m off home to do yoga and watch Nathan Fillion buckle his swash around the ‘verse. Shiny.