Blind Date

by Debbie Ioanna

  Now for the photo. The guidelines suggested a recent photo to give any potential dates a realistic image of who they are chatting to. Luckily, I had a nice photo of myself from my cousin’s wedding a year ago. That would be recent enough, right?

  Ok, now to upload my completed profile.

  I promptly sent Sarah a screenshot of my profile page so she knew I had done my assignment.

  “Well done! Love that photo of you, you’ll get loads of dates! Let me know when someone messages you! X”

  It was really late by the time I was finished so I decided to go to bed. It had worked though, I had completely forgotten about how much I had embarrassed myself in front of Zack earlier and that I would be seeing him in the morning… dammit.

  4

  I decided that the best way to salvage my embarrassing encounter with Zack was to wake up extra early so I could get showered and wash my hair so I could try to make myself look fabulous. Well, as fabulous as one could manage in a dull, navy work uniform. Then I would make sure I arrived at the office early so I could sit at a desk which would be as far away from Zack as possible and avoid him all day. Well, that was the plan…

  I somehow managed to sleep through my alarm and ended up rushing to get dressed and was left with little time to try and make myself look decent. My hair decided it did not want to cooperate but luckily my eyeliner went on perfectly (on fleek, is that what the kids say?) so at least my face looks presentable. I was not happy when I pulled on my good trousers to discover they were a bit tight. That tumble drier keeps shrinking my clothes. What a naughty machine…

  Truth be told, I am not as thin as I used to be. The ‘gym freak’ days of my twenties are long behind me and I much prefer to chill after work with a takeaway than burn off the extra calories consumed. Whenever I drive through Halifax and pass the gym on a Friday night, I see people running on the treadmills in the windows and can’t help but wonder… what are you doing? Life is too short to be worried about being a size eight. If you’re training for a marathon then fair enough. I just can’t believe there are people who choose to go to the gym before work. I mean, seriously, have a word with yourself.

  Miraculously, I found a parking space quite close to the office building. I did not have time to grab a coffee from the Costa next door, so I would have to risk bumping into Zack in the staff kitchen. I could smell the caffeine and croissants as I walked past their door. ‘I’ll fill the kettle for you’. Oh, I cringed as I recalled how stupid I sounded yesterday. I must try and sound more intellectual today. As easily as I somehow manage to embarrass myself in front of Zack, there is one thing that we can talk about in great detail; Game of Thrones. No one else in the office watches it, but he and I have the same understanding that it is the greatest show ever created, and so manage to discuss our thoughts and predictions on where the series is going to go. It was a great excuse to have a one on one conversation with him, and I took full advantage of it. Unfortunately, the new season is not out until next year so that topic would have to wait.

  I walked through the office doors that, even though labelled ‘automatic’ still required me to press the ‘open’ button. To me, that isn’t automatic, that requires manual labour and is another example of how I can make a tit out of myself with very little effort. My first time coming here I stood in front of the door waiting for it to open, but nothing happened. I stepped forward, back and then forward again, to the side, a little hop, but nothing until some highly amused person on the other side decided to point to the button for me.

  I am now trained in the use of the not-automatic door though, so this morning I glided in quite nicely and hastily made my way in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Morning Jenny!” called out my manager from her desk, a bit too loudly.

  “Morning Sam.”

  A few faces looked up from their desks and said hello. I noticed then that all the good desks were taken. There was only one desk free for me, and who should happen to be sat next to it?

  Dammit. It was all I ever wanted at work but also my worst nightmare rolled into one. I am going to be sat next to him all day. All day! I am going to need something other than Game of Thrones to talk about. The weather? Current affairs? Brexit? Maybe not…

  “It’s finally happening, I’m having a nervous breakdown! Xx” I quickly sent a text to Sarah as soon as I made it to the kitchen. I filled the kettle, as I’d stupidly promised, whilst waiting for a reply.

  “What has Bing done now? X”

  “Not Bing. Sod Bing. I got to work late and the only desk free is next to him…” If it were possible to have telepathy, then I would have been hearing her scream right then.

  “Flirt that arse off! Drop your pen on purpose so he has to pick it up. Undo your top button. Make him a coffee!”

  “You sound like my mother! I have to go. I’ll ring you tonight…X”

  I threw my phone into my bag and found my cup in the back of the cupboard. Should I have gone to my desk first and offered to make him a drink? Or would that have been trying too hard? I often wondered if he knew that I fancied the pants off him. Surely someone that good looking just knows that everyone fancies him. I hope he doesn’t know how I feel, that would make things awkward. As much as Sarah was trying to make me feel good yesterday, I firmly believe that if a man fancies you then he would make the first move. Zack and I have known each other for some time, we are the same age and the youngest people in this office. Even though we don’t work alongside each other very often, he has never remotely hinted at being interested, so I have accepted that was that. However, it did not mean I couldn’t fantasize once in a while. He often appeared in my dreams too, and they could get rather steamy at times.

  Whilst walking to my desk, my legs began to shake. My tea was almost spilling over the sides. I managed to make it to my desk without spilling a drop which was a miracle as my hands were trembling. I had to play it cool. He was deeply concentrating on a document in his hands.

  “Good morning.” I managed to get my words out quite casually.

  He hadn’t noticed me before then. He looked up and instantly smiled. It was a good thing my cup was safely down on the desk by that point or else I would certainly have dropped it.

  “Hello again,” he said, “have you recovered today?”

  “Recovered?” What did he mean?

  “You seemed a bit worse for wear yesterday, a tad tipsy.” He was still smiling.

  “Oh, right, yes. I might have had a few glasses of wine with my bestie, she owed me for the night before.”

  “What happened the night before?” He put down the piece of paper and slowly spun around in his swivel chair to face me. I wanted to climb on his lap and dry hump him.

  But, oh no, now I have to relay my dating disaster to someone who probably has hordes of beautiful women to pick from. Now he’ll know that my love life is virtually non-existent and how pathetic I am. I’m a spinster in the making. Thirty and single. An old maid. I need to be sent on blind dates because no one wants to voluntarily go on a date if they know it’s with me.

  “There was an incident with a blind date.” I began as I logged on to my computer, I couldn’t say those words whilst looking at him. “My friend set me up with someone who was less interesting than a cabbage.”

  He laughed. This was good. I loved it when he laughed, it was like music to my ears and it meant I was funny enough to be able to bring this beautiful sound out of him. Unless he was laughing at me, and my disaster date, and how pathetic I was because I was set up on a blind date.

  “I’ve never heard someone be compared to a cabbage before. So, no second date then?”

  “Erm, no. Definitely not.” At that moment, I got a whiff of his aftershave. He smelled wonderful. I had thoughts of attacking the Boots aftershave section on my lunch break to buy it to spray on my pillow. “She is insisting on sending me on blind dates, but they’re always a disaster.”

  “So why do you go on them then?”

  B
ecause I’m a pathetic singleton.

  “Well, why not? You never know, one day I might actually get set up with a cauliflower and be able to have a decent conversation.”

  “Ha! Well, I wish you luck.” Translation: your problem, not mine.

  The day went surprisingly quickly. Conversation was easy with Zack however we both had a very busy day. My job is customer facing, and Mondays are always full on in a public office. By five o’clock I was ready for home. I didn’t know when I’d see Zack again.

  “Right then,” he switched off his computer, “that’s me done. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yea, see you.” I smiled up at him, but he wasn’t looking my way at that moment. He had already picked up his bag and setting off towards the exit.

  5

  I’d phoned Sarah as soon as I got home to relay the whole day to her. She kept looking for hints of him being attracted to me, but I had to shoot her down each time. Very rarely I did wonder if he had any kind of feelings for me. Sometimes it did seem like he was flirting with me, but maybe that was just his way of being polite. Just because someone was able to joke with me it did not mean they fancied me. He was never nervous like me, he never blushed or stumbled over his words like I do. We’re not even connected on Facebook, so I know nothing about him really. I don’t know where he lives, who he hangs out with, what he does in his free time. Not a clue.

  Sarah asked how things were going with the dating app, but I hadn’t even checked it since last night, so I promised to have a look once I hung up. Which I didn’t.

  Bing Clawsby has been a good boy today. He has rid the house of an uninvited monster-sized spider. Sadly though, he has not disposed of the corpse. It is in front of my bedroom door, curled up the size of a golf ball. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he has placed it there on purpose because he knows it would freak me out and I wouldn’t be able to sleep all night for fear that it was not really dead and would come back to life and attack me in my sleep. It was nothing that the Dyson V6 couldn’t take care of. I switched it on, hovered over the corpse and with a loud thud, it was now settled amongst the dust and crumbs of the hoover. If it wasn’t dead before, it certainly was now.

  I’ve had Bing Clawsby for four years now. He’s a rescue cat. As soon as I bought my house, I had mentioned to my brother that I wanted a cat. I don’t have enough time for a dog, but cats are low maintenance and take care of themselves. Plus, kittens are super funny and cute. But big bro and his wife told me to rescue one from the RSPCA. ‘There are so many loveable cats out there needing homes, why buy a kitten when you can rescue one?’ Eventually they talked me into it, convincing me that I would be doing a good deed. Why would I want to buy a cute, tiny kitten that would grow to love me when I could adopt an adult cat that already hates me? What chance did I have with a man if I couldn’t convince a cat that I was not the enemy? I give him food, shelter, toys, what more could he want?

  When I saw him in his cage at the rescue centre that Christmas, I fell in love. He was an all-white winter wonderland cat with bright blue eyes. That was where the name came from, a ‘White Christmas’ cat... So beautiful, so angelic, and so deceptive. One week into our relationship he had climbed into my Michael Kors bag and eaten the lining. One month into our relationship he weed in my knicker drawer. When I was a child, I remember we had a cat that went out one day and never returned, I was heartbroken. I try to let Bing out every day… but he always returns. Go figure.

  No matter how much we seem to dislike each other, he always sleeps on my bed with me. I don’t know if that’s because he secretly loves me or knows how awkward it is for me to move my feet with him in-between them. Either way, I don’t mind him there to be honest. He’s company after all.

  I heard my phone buzzing on the kitchen counter. It was a text from Sarah.

  “I’ve found you the PERFECT guy! Max’s cousin. A financial advisor. He’s from Newcastle but lives near Ilkley now. He’ll be at the party on Sat – see you there! Wear the red dress! X”

  Another blind date. What will this guy be like, I wonder? At least he’s related to Max, so Sarah has actually met him and the chances are he’s a normal human being. Ilkley is a posh area, perhaps this one is rich and won’t expect me to go halves? I’m all for paying for a meal out if it’s my turn, but don’t ask me to pay for my share. That’s just bad manners.

  I saved the job of checking out the dating app until I was in bed. I could have a flick through the guys on there and see what was on offer. I wonder if it is like Amazon where you scroll and scroll until you find the item you want.

  I put my glass of water on the bedside table and climbed into bed and opened up the app. Bing promptly followed and made himself comfy on my feet.

  Ping. Ping. Ping.

  What’s going on?

  Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

  All these notifications started taking over my phone, like those virus pop ups on a computer that just won’t stop until you switch it off at the mains.

  “Harry liked your photo”

  “Jimmy liked your photo”

  “Steve liked your photo”

  “Rafiq wants to meet”

  “Elliot liked your photo”

  “Piotr sent a message”

  “Sven liked your photo”

  “Andrew liked your photo”

  “John sent a message”

  “Craig sent a message”

  “Alfie liked your photo”

  In total, I had received seventeen messages, six requests to meet up and seventy-two photo likes. All in the space of a day. Do these people have nothing better to do? Let’s check out some of these messages. What does Piotr have to say?

  “Mmm, sexy lady. I big trousers, you like?”

  I don’t even… I just… yea, lets block Piotr.

  “Wow, you’re well fit!!! Let’s meet up, where do you live?? ;)”

  Goodbye John.

  Craig was deleted after I read the first word of his message. That was just disgusting. Maybe this app was not a good idea after all.

  6

  If not for a lovely man named Phil, then I would have been chucking my phone out of the window by Friday night. The dating app was becoming more stress than it was worth. Dirty, gross messages were being sent by disgusting old men every day who all seemed to think I would want to have sex with them because they called me ‘sexy’. I would have thought a sexy photo would have been if I was wearing a tiny bikini whilst laying on a beach towel covered in oil and wiping sand out of my cleavage, not when I was wearing a floral skater dress at a wedding.

  Phil sent me a message on Friday as I got home from work. I had just ordered my Chinese takeaway when my phone pinged.

  “Hey there, I’m Phil :) how are you?”

  It was the first inoffensive message I had received so I decided to entertain it.

  “Hey there Phil, I’m fantastic thank you. How are you doing?” I should probably dial down the sarcasm.

  “That’s great! I’m good thanks, so glad the weekend is here. Do you have any fun plans?”

  “Just a party tomorrow, my best friend’s engagement party. How about you?”

  “Oh, that’s a shame, I was looking at your profile and would love to meet you, I was going to see if you fancied meeting for dinner. I live in Halifax too and there’s an amazing Italian restaurant, Ricci’s Place, do you know it?”

  Wow, this guy seems almost normal. Nothing crude, nothing creepy, he’s taken the time to read my profile. Maybe I should check his out…

  So, he is called Phil and he is thirty-two years old from Halifax. He is a manager at a bank and lives alone with his Golden Retriever. He drives an Audi and loves going to Crete for his holidays. It’s quite a good photo too. He looks to be standing on a boat, the sun is shining on his face and he is kind of squinting but still giving a great smile. His dark hair is blowing in the wind. Ok, I can cope with this one. Much nicer than Piotr’s tear drop tattoo under his eye.

 
“I do know it, and I love it. It’s my favourite place to go :) They have a great wine selection”

  “We should arrange to meet up another time then, if you fancy it?”

  Go on, live a little.

  “That would be great, I’d love to” Sarah would be so proud.

  We spent the whole night exchanging messages and he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. We were getting on so well. I couldn’t wait to tell Sarah that her plan had worked and this nice guy was wanting to meet me. I would wait until a date had been arranged to tell her, but that wasn’t looking good at the moment. Our free evenings clashed for several weeks. We agreed that if we couldn’t arrange to meet up soon then we would FaceTime one night instead. Still a date but from home. How very modern of us.

  7

  My red dress was washed, ironed and ready to make me look fabulous. I was wearing my good bra to give me some cleavage. I might only be thirty, but the ladies aren’t as alert as they used to be and need some encouragement these days. Bing was eyeing up my dress hanging on my wardrobe door, so I swiftly moved it inside and away from his hungry claws.

  “Don’t you dare, Clawsby, you’re not ruining my night before it’s even begun.” He stared at me with his big, piercing eyes as though he was thinking of a cocky come back but he decided against it and flicked his tail up in the air and walked out of my bedroom. He would get his way later on, that I’m sure of.

  Sarah had told me a little bit more about Max’s cousin and this time I was convinced she had got it right.

  “He’s called James,” she told me on Thursday evening when she called me, “He was in the army until a few years ago.” I did used to have an army man obsession. “He’s athletic.” Potential for a good body. “And he is so funny!” I love humour.

  Tonight would be a night for heels. Not killer heels, those days are long gone, but I would need some height to help me pull off this dress. The last time I wore killer heals was for a night out in London. The first half an hour was amazing, but the last four hours were like torture. I decided there and then that comfort trumped style. I also decided there and then that I was getting old to think of such a thing. Once upon a time I would never have even worn a jacket on a night out but now I’m not ashamed to take a coat and umbrella. It’s definitely an age thing. For example, I used to carry my ID in case anyone asked my age when serving me alcohol. Now it’s in case I needed identifying.