cup of coffee

 

 

Time for a dating update. Remember I went out for a coffee with a very tall man last week, and how keen he seemed … and how positive (for once) I felt that it could lead somewhere – at least to a second date, which for me, is a BIG DEAL? You know where this is heading right? Yeah, so that didn’t quite work out.

 

Sometimes I find it quite cathartic to write down certain scenarios/issues when it comes to my dating life, just to try and make sense of it all. Unfortunately, I still hate dating and quite frankly wish I didn’t like men full stop. Annoyingly, I do. So you’ll have to excuse my ramble. Back to the tall twat man.

 

We had said goodbye on a high. He’d snuck in a peck on the lips and I was kicking myself a bit I’d been so stubborn about not meeting him for all these years. He’d mentioned a second date several times during our coffee and there were moments when I caught him staring at me in that ‘I can’t keep my eyes off you’ kinda way. I left the date feeling really good.

 

However, since then, the only way he could show less interest in seeing me again is if he just didn’t bother to text at all which, in actuality, would be better than the absolute drivel he’s been coming out with since. Honestly, if I had a pound for every time he’s mentioned the weather, or the fact he’s working away all week, or my Ikea desk, I’d have … £76.59.

 

Not one mention of going out again. Not one. And for someone that’s supposedly been wanting to date me for years, something’s not quite right. Remember I said I had a gut instinct he was married/attached? Well I called him out on it again because I just wanted to see in black and white what his response was. And sure enough, he said he was ‘happily’ single and not attached in any way. I promised I wouldn’t ask again. Except … I can’t help but wonder whether his apathy about meeting again is because his Mrs won’t let him out of the house!

 

Men think women are hard to understand but I’ve spent HOURS during my lifetime trying to work out just what the hell men want. And at the ripe old age of 45, I LITERALLY HAVE NO BLOODY CLUE!

 

“Hope your day is going well.”

“How’s the weather your end?”

“How’s Ikea?”

 

For the love of God man, shit or get off the pot! He made out he couldn’t have been keener to see me again and yet meh. Just meh. Not one mention of going out again. Not one attempt at actually getting to know me. I know he’s not shy, or awkward – in fact, he came across as a fairly smart, well-adjusted human being! So what’s the deal?

 

And yes, OK, technically, technically, I could ask him out myself and just stop moaning about him. I could, but I don’t want to. Quite frankly, any spark that there was on the date has fizzled out on my part by the lack of action on his part. I’m a modern woman and have no compunction about asking a man out should the desire take me but he said he’d arrange the next date so why should I? He goes days without texting, and then just tries to pick up where he left off. Which is nowhere in bloody particular! 

 

I literally just cannot be bothered. Where’s his (metaphorical) spunk? Probably in his denim combat jeans.

 

The warning signs were there.

 

Onwards dear readers.

 

kate sutton

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