Date #1 ended rather abruptly as two taxis stood outside the bar and we needed to grab them. He lives in the back of beyond and I’m a good girl (OK, a reformed girl!) and so the night ended with a quick, clumsy miss kiss on the cheek. He re-iterated he’d see me again soon.
Cue girl brain, self-doubt, angst, convinced to poo had in fact spelt disaster and to make things worse the next day was Valentine’s Day. And I heard not a peep. In fact he let me wait til 6pm on the Saturday later to text to say Thursday had been a lot of fun and we should do it again soon.
There’s that word again. Soon.
When Mr VP? When? Would it kill you to suggest a follow up date and time? Fair enough you sorted the venue for #1 but please don’t make me do all the work. And so I took the reins and suggested dinner the following week, remembering it was his birthday and enquired if he had birthday plans? We’d talked about Cutler & Co but was that too much for date #2? It was his birthday. I suggested it and he replied saying what a lovely idea let’s do it. Shit did that mean I was paying??
Luckily Cutler & Co were booked up (saved by the gods) so we went to Meatball and Wine Bar. We text daily but only on logistical info. He said he’d make it out of work for 6.30pm. At 6.26pm I get a text saying there was a work drama but he was working on it and hopefully it wouldn’t take long. He’d be late but would be in touch. Hmm. That’s twice he’s been late and clearly he’s a workaholic.
I made my way to GoGo bar where we’d arranged to meet. I’d forgotten Friday nights aren’t like mid-week nights and it was rammed. Tonight was going to be a disaster. All the suits and hair extensions and fake nails made me uneasy. This wasn’t my scene and I was pretty confident it wasn’t his either. Plus I couldn’t hear myself think with the incessant noise of bullshit banter. Luckily Mr VP arrived just as I was drinking my glass of cider. He sneaked up behind me and kissed my cheek.
“Fancy another? Actually, you get the drinks in, I’ll sort the table out.”
Taking charge. That’s what I like. I think it’s all going to be OK.
And it was. Date #2 was a dream of a date. The food was awesome. He was impressed. He impressed me with his wine knowledge and comfort and trust in me ordering the food. We talked non stop about everything. Set the world to rights. He told me all about the joys of an American company and I told him about public health reform. Then out of the blue that question again.
“Do you want kids?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe if I found the right guy.”
“But I guess the older you get the quicker you need to decide.”
“I suppose but I’m holding onto the fact my grandma had a child at 41 and that was back then. I reckon I’ve got time.”
“I have to tell you something. I can’t have children. And that’s why my wife left me.”
Wowzers what do you say to that? So very honest and brave and devastating all at the same time. And all I could think about was I had a mouthful of meatball.
When I did manage to say something, maybe a beat too late it was “Well I don’t know if I can kids either. I’ve never tried.”
It eased a bit of tension at least and he went on to tell me his story. Zero sperm count, how he reckons he’d be a great Dad but there are other options these days. He’s grateful for the opportunity to be a Godfather and maybe with the right partner he’d look into the other options.
The evening continued in a more conventional way, I can’t remember what we talked about but I remember thinking what a cow his ex must have been to leave the man you loved and married to find someone else to procreate with. It seems a bit heartless.
After another glass of wine and a gorgeous Spanish sherry he’d found on the menu (seriously the waiter said no-one had ever ordered it before) we called it a night and went in hunt of cabs. I suddenly turned into a 15 year old as we let 2 cabs drive past. He then flagged one down and said he’d get in the next one. After opening the door, he turned to me and kissed me. A proper leg wibbly snog said “you’d better get in the cab” and packed me off.
I had a Cheshire grin on my chops all the way back to St Kilda.
I return to my phone beeping in the bedroom after taking off my makeup.
Him: That was a fun night, thank you.
Me: That was indeed a very fun night. We should do it again soon.
Ha! Now he was to name the date.
Him: Soon sounds good.