Saturday, 28 February 2009

Down with dating

Here we are at the end of February; spring is coming; the days are getting longer…

It was a lovely day yesterday; last week I had a series of events with NHS organisations across London and for Friday’s I hired out the 33rd floor of Citibank’s headquarters in Canary Wharf. The view was rather spectacular; out across the Dome and down the river to my home, opposite London City Airport. Check out this photo of your taxes at work:

I was in a good mood partly because I was due to see Sam in town for our date. I’d had a busy week, and we hadn’t really been able to keep in touch, but the plan was to meet at a posh restaurant on Covent Garden. I should, perhaps, have taken note when he decided he wanted to go somewhere ‘cheap’ instead. And then, later, he decided he wanted to come to my place again [yay]. And then he couldn’t stay very long as he was ill [boo]… and then he cancelled [censored].

And then he went quiet on me. I’m mystified, and not a little hurt that something that started so well has ended to abruptly and with that strange air of … why?

Saturday’s date has also been postponed; hence my ability to wallow a little in self pity tonight. However, that has happened due to genuine if self-inflicted illness on the part of my datee so this I can forgive. We are now meeting tomorrow evening Chez Moi; meaning I have two dates in one day tomorrow - assuming nothing awful happens during the meanstwhile.

I was tempted to ring round and re-jig all my other dates to fill the bounty this new slot availability could be turned into. But my instinct was that this might be considered a tad rude; I hardly need to signal on a first date to candidates for boyfriendage that they are a plan B!

I had a relatively enjoyable night in on Friday, notwithstanding an embarrassingly wine fuelled tête-à-tête with my neighbour about the synergy of 2am and Very Loud Music that finds me somewhat bruised today. I shall keep a low profile tonight and ensure that I am loveliness personified for my fellas on Sunday.

In the meantime I shall dwell not on Sam, gentle reader, but on this rather charming young man: Matthew Mitcham, an Australian Olympian, gay and…. *sigh*.


czechOUT said...

Mike, God, the many times that I have - we all have - had the date go quiet. Whatever the reasons; he just wanted a shag in the now so then wasn't so convenient; he felt spooked; he felt guilty - whatever the reason, I feel for you. I remember cooking dinner so many years ago for someone who never came.

Equally, I remember telling someone I'd be back for dinner definitely and that lasagne was a favourite, all the time knowing I'd be half way between the cities that separated us, never to see him again-he just made me feel uncomfortable.

Thank God it's all behind me.

Mike said...

Yeah, you're lucky:-) Well, I can't claim to be the last word in good manners but I think my next post shows what really happened. I don't like drama so I feel a bit funny about it all. Hmmm. Here's hoping one day I'll be as lucky as you!