I still have a number of disastrous dates to tell you about, but this is one of two which leaves me mighty cold and still affords me a great amount of embarrassment when I think about it, so perhaps if I tell you and our other reader all about it, it will make for a cathartic exercise?
David was utterly not in my league whatsoever. And by that, I mean due to his age. He was checking in at 12 years my junior and I do not do cradle-snatching, or, even worse, want to be pigeon-holed in the Grab-A-Granny boxes.
He questioned me, gave me all the philisophical codswallop about 'Age is just a number', that he was very mature, a senior level science teacher (I should have said no as soon as I read that, as young teachers have never been in the real world - they go through high school, onto university, and then back into school) and he was dying to meet with me. After many of these chats, I thought, on the spur of the moment, OK, I'll go. I told him to meet me that night at a pub up the road (not the Leigh Arms for a change as I was getting alarmed by the knowing looks from the bar staff).
So, I turned up, bang on time, and he was sitting waiting for me in the gardens, clutching his pint. He was an enormous chap - towered over me, which made a change as I always seem to be the giant in my dates - and appeared to be a rather amiable sort. We broke the ice, he got me a drink, and we commenced chatting. He told me all about his teaching at the Catholic College and how a number of year 9 girls were rather sweet on him and how he handled unruly classes. He seemed to have his head screwed on, at that point. I asked him lots of interested questions, which he enjoyed responding to and at length, but again, as happens with most of my dates, they seem to get very wrapped up in themselves and it ends up like an interview (perhaps this is my problem?).
After an hour an a half of David chat, I interrupted as he paused for breath and asked, Would you like to know anything about me at all?
Oh yes, of course, sorry, it's just that I love my job so much that I do tend to talk about it a lot. For instance, only this morning, I went to teach year 11 chemistry and the funniest thing happened...
When he wasn't talking about work, he talked about his Mum. His Mum is a staunch Catholic lady and he told me she would disapprove of me completely due to a) me being divorced and b) having children (AND divorced).
That's not my bloody fault, I expostulated indignantly. I didn't ask the ex to go off with my best mate.
Yes, yes, I know, he replied, But Mum is very religious and doesn't believe in divorce...Actually, what's the time? (It was 9.30pm) I'd better just give her a call and tell her I'll be late.
You still live with your Mum? I asked.
Oh yes, I will move out at some point, but I am an only child and she likes having me around. She's a very good cook and when I come home late at 5 o'clock (5 o'clock?? I'm generally still anticipating a further two hours work by then!) she has my dinner ready and chats to me about my day.
He rang Mum, and explained that he was just out with his mates, having a few beers and they were having a really good chat about cars which he was engrossed in. My eyebrow was raising again.
He looked sheepishly at me and admitted that she didn't know he was on a date. Great, I thought, he's not allowed to even talk to women by the sounds of it.
What if we went to yours for a coffee, he suggested.
Well, my neighbour was in that night and I had told him about the date and he said he would keep an ear open, just in case, so I agreed.
Don't try anything on, though, I warned him. First up, my neighbour will sort you out, and second, I have a marble rolling pin and I will not hesitate to bash you over the head with it if you try on any monkey business with me (I deliver this line to any dates who come to mine for a coffee. When they see it, they back off immediately).
He looked a little askance, but agreed to the terms and conditions.
Well, we got back to my house and from that moment on, he and his mother texted each other as though they were long lost lovers. Hardly a sentence escaped my lips without the Nokia tune tinkling away, making me lose my thread.
At 11pm, I told him he had better go as his mother appeared to be getting worried about him. He was too besotted to realise that my words were dripping with sarcasm and readily agreed. I couldn't wait to get him out of the house fast enough!
Next day, I was bombarded by texts from him, asking would I go out with him again. I chose my words carefully and stated: I want a man, not a Mummy's boy. Leave me alone as you are already in a relationship - with your Mum.
Surprisingly, this didn't abash him at all, and he continued to ask me out. I won't tell you my final words to him as I don't want Blogger.com to kick me off this site, but suffice it to say, he has not contacted me since. And he still doesn't know what my job is...