Every fortnight Zowie Edwards will be regaling Flavour readers with her dating tales from the Urban Jungle…….
If last column’s date surprised me by being a million times yummier in the flesh than a two dimensional photo could ever suggest, this fortnight’s guy had, sadly, the exact opposite effect.
Note to all internet daters: Be extremely wary of black-and-white photos. They cover a multitude of sins. Especially be wary of a lone black-and-white photo, unaccompanied by other pics (not even pouty ones). Ok, so perhaps most of you are savvy enough to realise this already, but I certainly wasn’t, so I thought I’d give you the benefit of my wisdom just in case.
The man who strode up to me and introduced himself last night bore absolutely no resemblance to the black-and-white photo man with whom I’d arranged my date. I had been aware that he was a tad older than me (less than a decade, though, which I believe to be generally considered reasonable and appropriate) but nothing could have prepared me for the shock of sitting in a bar with a man who could be mistaken for my Dad.
Immediately, I began to panic. Whereas our email banter had been light and frivolous, his appearance had me convinced I now had to peruse my mental-library for a variety of somber, sensible and grown-up topics to discuss. Fortunately, just as I abandoned the ‘sensible topics of conversation’ section of the library (it’s nothing but dusty shelves) and starting rooting through the ‘feasible excuses to leave a date early’ section, he rescued me.
As anyone who’s ever had a conversation with me will know, I’m a sucker for that old chestnut, a good sense of humour, which can cancel out all manner of aesthetic dodgy-ness in my minds eye (a quick glance over my exes, who exhibit a veritable spectrum of physical dodgy-ness, but were all very funny, will confirm this). Luckily for the chap in question, he managed to make me laugh. Then he made me laugh again. Before I knew it, I found myself hanging onto his every comedy-rich word and, dare I admit, thoroughly enjoying myself.
It might have been the 4 glasses of wine I consumed (I’m yet to have a sober date. All this romancing is playing havoc with my waistline), or it might have been a genuine spark I felt as we said goodnight. As this goes to press I’m considering a second date.
Impossibly beautiful boy from last column has texted me daily since our last date. Every time my phone lights up I exhibit a tell-tale giggle, cock my head to one side and sigh with contentment. I know this because my boss has observed me doing this at regular intervals it’s apparently driving him a bit nuts. Could it be love? Probably not. I’m still seeing him on Saturday, though, for more meaningful glances, gazing and general lusting.
Until next time….
Words by Zowie Edwards
