The Dating Game

by Susan Buchanan

  ‘There you go, sir, one pint of lager shandy,’ said Gill, as she sat the drink in front of him.

  ‘Thanks.’ Their hands touched briefly as Charlie went to lift his pint. A jolt ran straight through Gill. Charlie flinched slightly. Their eyes met and Gill was first to look away, although not before holding his gaze slightly too long, for her interest to be clear.

  ‘So you studied Engineering at university?’ Charlie said, after taking a sip of his pint.

  ‘Yes, I really enjoyed it, but there weren’t a great deal of jobs when I came out, so I moved into Recruitment. Recruiting people to do the very jobs I wanted to be doing.’

  ‘That couldn’t have been easy,’ Charlie sympathised.

  ‘Well, I thought of it like this - the people I was interviewing had years of experience. Graduates were the ones who had a hard time getting a position back then. Now we’re full circle.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Charlie was curious.

  ‘Well, not only graduates have a really hard time finding something these days. Those with great qualifications are finding it much tougher, too.’

  ‘That’s depressing,’ said Charlie. ‘But I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been with my firm five years and we used to have seventeen staff. Since 2010, we’ve had eleven.’

  ‘So, how did you get into surveying?’ Gill asked, keen to steer them clear of any further talk of the recession.

  ‘Oh I always loved architecture. I’m a big Charles Rennie Macintosh fan, Alexander ‘Greek’ Thomson and all that crowd. Plus, I was good at techie drawing at school.’

  His smile was infectious.

  Just then, Gill’s phone beeped. ‘Sorry, I thought I had turned this off.’ She fished her phone out of her bag and saw that it was an e-mail alert from Sean. Hurriedly, she pressed the off button and replaced her phone in her bag. ‘Sorry, what were we saying?’

  ‘We were talking about architecture.’

  ‘Oh yes. So, have you been to the Hill House in Helensburgh?’

  ‘Yes, many times. I’ve been to all of Mackintosh’s buildings in Glasgow and obviously Helensburgh.’

  ‘I tend to just go to those that sell scones,’ Gill joked.

  ‘Well, the Willow Tearooms are lovely and the House for an Art Lover has re-opened. I hear they do good scones.’

  ‘Actually, I went to the House for an Art Lover, for lunch, recently. The food was lovely.’

  ‘Really? Must try it sometime.’ Again his gaze held Gill’s slightly too long. Was that an invitation? If so, he’ll have to be a bit less subtle.

  ‘So you like to travel?’ she asked.

  ‘Love it. I get away as often as I can.’

  ‘So where have you been?’

  ‘It’s probably more a case of where haven’t I been.’

  ‘OK,’ said Gill, wishing he would give her a bit more to work with. ‘Where are your favourite places?’

  ‘Well, in Europe, Tallinn in Estonia. It’s like Prague, but much smaller, unspoilt. And in the US, California, for the heat and its diversity. Plus you have all those amazing vineyards up at Sonoma. Throw in Yellowstone and places like Carmel, Monterey and Santa Monica, and I have to wonder why I still live here.’

  ‘Wow, you really have travelled!’ said Gill impressed.

  ‘I like to see new places, have new experiences. I bungee jumped off the Bloukrans Bridge in South Africa. It was amazing.’

  ‘Bloukrans?’ a confused Gill asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s the highest bridge you can jump off there. I think it was and maybe still is the highest one in the world.’

  ‘Rather you than me. I did one for charity years ago – never again.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s definitely a love it or hate it thing.’

  ‘So what about you, do you like to travel?’ asked Charlie, glancing briefly at his watch.

  Gill saw, but pretended not to. She hoped he wasn’t bored. Probably just trying to keep track of time for the meeting with his daughter.

  ‘I do, but I haven’t been to half the places you have, I’m sure.’

  ‘So where was the last place you went?’

  ‘Amsterdam, with some friends, last year.’

  ‘Great city, although I’ve spent more time in its airport than in the city itself,’ Charlie admitted.

  ‘Yes, I’ve been through Schiphol myself more than a few times.’

  ‘And where are you off to next?’

  ‘We’re going to Barcelona in a few weeks for the Mercè festival.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of that. I’ve been to Barcelona twice, but never during the festival. It’s supposed to be really good. Isn’t it costing you a fortune, though? I heard they jack up the hotel and flight prices for it.’

  ‘Yes, it certainly wasn’t cheap, but hopefully it’ll be worth it. It’s my first time to Barcelona, so I can’t wait to go.’

  ‘It’s a brilliant city – make sure you go off the beaten track, too, although not into the left hand side of the Ramblas after dark.’

  ‘Why’s that then?’

  ‘All sorts goes on there after dark. It’s really seedy, strip joints, worse.’

  ‘Begs the question how you know,’ Gill teased.

  ‘Stag night gone wrong,’ was all Charlie would say.

  ‘So what about you, where are you jetting off to next?’

  ‘I haven’t booked anything, but I’d quite like to go to Bora Bora. But I think it’s quite a romantic place, so not really somewhere I want to go with the lads.’

  Again Gill had that sensation that there was an undercurrent between them. Bora, Bora! He could bloomin’ well take her to Bora Bora any day!

  ‘So, when you planning on going?’ Gill pushed her luck.

  ‘In a couple of months perhaps. I’ll need to see how things work out,’ he said.

  Gill wondered if that meant whether he had a woman to take with him or not. There were definitely worse things in life than being on a beach in French Polynesia with Charlie Prentice.

  They had another couple of drinks. Charlie had switched to orange juice after his first few lager shandies. Gill gave him another tick for this – sensible, not going over the limit, especially when he’d be spending time with his daughter later.

  When pressed, Charlie told Gill all about his passion for cooking and how he often prepared dishes from the places around the world that he had visited. She almost expected him to suggest he cook for her one night, but no invitation was forthcoming. Fair enough. They had just met. She told him how big a foodie she was, and of the restaurants she had frequented in Glasgow, Edinburgh and the west of Scotland in general. He keyed some of her recommendations into his phone.

  There was a brief pause in the conversation and then Charlie said, ‘Oh God, I’m going to be late. Gill, I’m really sorry. I’ve had a really nice time, but I’ve got to go. Chloe will be waiting.’

  He pulled on a leather jacket, which had been hanging over his chair. It was the first time Gill had noticed it; brown, distressed leather. She couldn’t help thinking of Tom Cruise in Top Gun, although Charlie was blond and a good six inches taller.

  Gill stood up and donned her trench coat, belting it loosely at the waist. He walked slightly ahead of her and held the door open to let her pass through.

  The rain bounced off the street. They hesitated briefly inside the entranceway.

  ‘My car’s just around the corner. How did you get here?’ he asked.

  ‘I took a taxi. Ah, there’s one now,’ she said and flagged it down.

  ‘It was really nice to meet you, Gill. I had a really good time,’ and Charlie kissed her briefly on both cheeks.

  ‘You too.’

  He smiled at her and then walked towards his car.

  What? What! Gill thought. He hadn’t mentioned seeing her again and when he had kissed her cheek, he had smelled divine, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her. What am I, his maiden aunt? Deflated, she turned at the sound of the taxi horn beeping, reminding her of its presence.


  Gill sat in the taxi, puzzling over what had just happened. Why didn’t he ask to see me again or for my number? We were having a really good time.

  Suddenly, she remembered the e-mail from Sean. Another waste of space. Yes, let’s see what he had to say for himself. This should be good, she thought venomously.

  ‘Hi Gill. I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry. It was my first arranged date and I was very nervous. You were so lovely and I was really enjoying your company and I blew it. I’m not some alcoholic for the record, just someone who over-indulged and really regrets it. Would you ever give me another chance? It’ll be a dry date (for me) I promise. Sorry again, Sean.

  Men! I’ll never understand them – they’re all idiots, she thought, as she flung her phone back in her bag.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sunday 11th September

  Gill lay around for the rest of the day, moping and debating whether to ring Debbie or one of the others and relate the latest sorry episode with Charming Charlie as she had now nicknamed him, or of Shit-faced Sean’s text. In the end, she grabbed some popcorn and watched Notting Hill. Her favourite scene was Julia Roberts in the book shop, saying to Hugh Grant, ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a guy, asking him to love her.’ How bloody appropriate that was, she thought angrily. But men are too stupid to notice, or maybe they just don’t care, she fumed.

  When she’d devoured a third of a bag of popcorn, she felt sick, so stopped. She tapped out a message on her phone to Debbie, ‘Shit-faced Sean has e-mailed me – here’s the e-mail. What do you think?’

  She lay back on the sofa cushions. This dating lark was exhausting, especially when it seemed to be going so well and then veered off in another direction altogether without explanation. Maybe she was better off single. Maybe she could just get a puppy if she wanted affection. But puppies needed care and attention. Pity she was allergic to cats. They freaked her out, too. There was something unnerving about their intelligence – she always felt they knew more than they let on.

  Five minutes later, just when Gill had thrown the TV remote across the room in disgust, the phone rang. She hesitated, wondering if it was either of her failed dates, then realised they didn’t have her number. It was Lisa.

  ‘So, how did it go with the surveyor? Was he tasty?’

  Slouching down into the sofa, curling her feet underneath her, Gill poured out the whole exasperating tale.

  ‘Men are funny beasts,’ said Lisa after a long pause. ‘He’ll probably be in touch. He was probably just distracted with his daughter.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Gill, unconvinced. ‘He said, ‘It was nice to meet you – goodbye.’ Sounds pretty bloody definitive to me.’

  ‘Well, don’t get worked up about it. If you aren’t for him, you aren’t for him and he’s not for you. You’re meeting another one on Tuesday, aren’t you?’

  ‘Don’t remind me. At the moment I feel like swearing off men for life.’

  ‘There’s no point thinking like that. Who’s up next?’

  ‘Gary.’

  ‘Which one’s Gary again?’

  ‘The engineer from Renfrewshire.’

  ‘What was his photo like? You know I’m not that bothered about his job, unless he has two sports cars and a stately home off Loch Lomond.’

  Lisa wasn’t as shallow as she liked to make out, but Gill indulged her.

  ‘He’s the one that looked a bit like Liam Neeson.’

  ‘Oh yeah, remember him now. Big nose.’

  ‘It wasn’t that big.’

  ‘It was bloody huge,’ Lisa was in her stride now.

  ‘Lise, you’re meant to be cheering me up,’ Gill reminded her.

  ‘I am? Oh, sure, I am. But you know what they say about big noses?’

  ‘Well, here’s hoping,’ said Gill before Lisa could deliver the punchline.

  ‘Aw, you’re spoiling my fun,’ wailed Lisa.

  ‘Fat chance of that happening. So, who is the latest victim, anyway?’

  ‘Charming, I’m sure,’ Lisa feigned offence. ‘Daryl. Met him last night. Fit. PT instructor in the army. Good stamina.’

  ‘Lisa, enough with the detail,’ Gill barked rather more abruptly than intended.

  ‘Oh yeah, so, back to the matter in hand. This Gary guy, he’s not the tallest out of the bunch, is he?’

  ‘No, the others were six feet three and six feet one. He’s five eleven.’

  ‘Still. He’s not short. Even in reasonable heels, you shouldn’t tower over him. So, where are you meeting him?’

  ‘He said he’d let me know. Tomorrow then, probably.’

  ‘Good stuff. Right, love, I’m shattered, you can have too much of a good thing, you know.’

  ‘Lisa, how many times do I need to tell you? You’re meant to be cheering me up, not telling me how great the sex you had last night was, particularly when you know I haven’t had sex this year.’

  ‘Or last year,’ mumbled Lisa.

  ‘Yes, thanks for that.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot to say, Debbie mentioned that your wee Irish guy got plastered.’

  ‘Yes, and he’s had the cheek to e-mail me begging forgiveness. I’ve just forwarded Debbie his e-mail to see what she thinks.’

  ‘Oh read it to me,’ begged Lisa.

  ‘I can’t. It’s on my phone, and I’m talking to you on it.’

  ‘Oh well, tell me the gist of it.’

  After relaying to Lisa more or less what Sean had said, Lisa reached the conclusion that he should be given another chance.

  ‘C’mon, anyone could have had a bit too much. It’s happened to all of us.’

  ‘Yes, well, not on a first date. That’s meant to be when you make an impression. He certainly made an impression. Pity it was the wrong one.’

  ‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’

  ‘I’m fed up giving everyone second, third and fourth chances. I need to start putting myself first. Nobody else does.’

  ‘Except us.’

  ‘Well, naturally except you three.’

  ‘And Christopher and Sarah.’

  ‘Yes, yes and my parents – anyone who’s related to me. They don’t count.’

  ‘Oh that’s lovely!’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I do. Right, listen to me, chill, take it easy tomorrow and be refreshed for Tuesday and consider giving Sean another chance. Sexy Irishman, accent, cute. Bit of a drinker. He’s Irish, what do you expect?’

  ‘Not like this, though, Lisa. It was downright embarrassing.’

  ‘Well, he’s obviously regretting it now and he must have liked you, otherwise he could have just not contacted you. He could simply have got the agency to set him up with someone else. That would have been a lot less embarrassing for him.’

  Gill pondered this for a second. ‘I suppose. I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything. The last thing I need in my life is a perpetually drunken Irishman.’

  ‘And here was me thinking they were the best kind,’ said Lisa, and Gill knew she was laughing.

  ‘Right, quit it, you. I have things to do, so have to go.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Work things,’ said Gill in exasperation.

  ‘Boring. Right, talk to you when you have better chat. Bye.’

  ‘Charming! Beat it, talk to you on Wednesday,’ and Gill replaced the receiver.

  Monday disappeared as quickly as it had begun. Gill didn’t stop all day. Debbie had replied mid-morning to say her phone had been dead and she hadn’t seen Gill’s message until now. If you really liked him, give him another chance. If you weren’t sure before he got plastered, don’t. Sage advice.

  Gary e-mailed her at lunchtime, asking if he could meet her in the Veni, Vidi, Vici bar in Hope Street at seven o’clock. She knew it. It had just been recently refurbished and boasted an adjoining award-winning restaurant, which specialised in seafood. She hoped it didn’t come out of the River Clyde. She didn’t think a side
order of shopping trolley would be particularly appetising. She replied to his e-mail, advising him that seven was fine.

  On Tuesday morning, as she prepared her clothes for that evening, laying them out in her suit carrier, she decided she would give Sean a second chance. Not caring that it was six thirty, and half hoping her e-mail alert would wake him, it was the least he deserved after all, she e-mailed him. ‘Sean, I had a good time up until the point when you fell down drunk. I believe in second chances, but not third. I’m free Thursday, Gill.’

  She didn’t care if she sounded judgmental. She had every right to be. He’d shown her up in public.

  ‘So, how’s it all going then?’ Janice asked her. Prior to her second date with Anton, Gill had confided in Janice.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me.’

  ‘Try me.’

  So Gill filled her in with all the details.

  ‘Exciting times. My advice, enjoy it. Soon enough you’ll find one guy to settle down with and then there’ll be no variety.’

  ‘Thanks, Janice.’

  ‘Seriously, take it from one who knows.’

  Dating was starting to cause Gill some wardrobe concerns, although she was getting used to changing at work. She didn’t really have enough dressy clothes that were suitable for first dates. Her wardrobe mainly consisted of work suits and co-ordinates. She’d found a sheer black top at the back of a drawer, which she wore over a black camisole. She pulled on a pair of turquoise Capri pants and she was ready.

  The taxi drew up right on time outside her office. Seven minutes later, she stepped out onto the kerb in front of Veni, Vidi, Vici. She was beginning to get déjà vu. Get glammed up, take taxi, approach bar, find expectant male. Taking a deep breath and hoping that this date would run smoothly, she opened the door to the bar and went in. Inside it was quite dark, in contrast with the daylight in the street. Her eyes adjusted quickly and glancing around, she didn’t see anyone who could be Gary. A few lone males propped up the bar, but they easily looked twenty and seventy respectively, so surely she could rule them out? Either that or he bore no resemblance to his profile picture. Taking one last look around, ensuring he definitely wasn’t there, she approached the bar.