Seventh Post of a Seventh Post*

I won’t lie to you: that first date was amazing. I was smiling the whole way home and wondering why I hadn’t considered online dating ages ago.

A couple of days later, I met up with Mike and Tim and told them all about it… kind of.

I say ‘kind of’ because I’m the sort of guy that plays things down a bit; I told them the date was good when really it was great. I don’t know exactly why I do this – maybe I just don’t want to get carried away? Maybe it’s some kind of defence mechanism? Whatever the case, it’s just the way it is.

So I told them that we had a lot in common, that there was an instant spark. Naturally, they were happy.

Of course, this made me a bit nervous; it had, remember, been ages since I went on a date, let alone one that was better than I had hoped.

This meant there was a bench mark, and I fully intended on surpassing it.

So, I was doing that waiting-a-couple-of-days-before-arranging-another-date thing - because everything I’ve learned about dating comes from films, apparently. I used this time to think of something to do for date Number Two, and I remembered Emily mentioning an Italian restaurant that she enjoyed, so I sent her a text suggesting that we go there for dinner.

We arranged to meet a week later, on what turned out to be November 5^th, bonfire night here in the UK, and I grew more excited as the date crept closer.

But one great date doesn’t guarantee a great second date, so I didn’t want to get complacent; I decided that I would bring my A Game. And by that, I mean I wore my new shoes again.

We met at the subway station, which isn’t the most romantic of places, but the date went well. Very well, actually. We talked a lot, I had lasagne, she had a mushroom and pasta thing (if memory serves…). We shared a bottle of wine, and again the hours seemed to float by.

I got out my card to pay, and Emily suggested paying for her half.

‘No, it’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘You don’t have to, honestly,’ she said. Because she’s fucking lovely.

I know paying for dinner is probably considered old-fashioned now, or at worst sexist**, so I said, ‘I’ll pay for this and you can buy me a drink. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

We went to a bar on Ashton Lane. I’d love to stand here and tell you that there was a chorus of fireworks lighting the night sky, but there wasn’t. Bonfire Night was more impressive when you were a kid.

Anyway, we talked some more and discovered more stuff we had in common.

Anyway, we reached a milestone: Date Two was our first kiss! (At the end of the night, of course, not during the meal. I imagine that sort of behaviour would be considered odd.) It was just a small, polite kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

‘So I’ll hear from you soon?’ she said, as she climbed into a taxi.

She could count on it, I thought. And then I said it out loud because I doubt she could have known otherwise.

‘Good,’ she said with a smile, ‘because I wasn’t sure if you were doing that whole “wait a couple of days before you text again” thing after our last date.’

‘Oh. Eh, yeah,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was cool to get in touch the next day. I have my manly pride to look after, you see.’

We said our goodbyes and agreed to meet up again soon.

I couldn’t wait. I’d even describe myself as giddy with excitement if it didn’t make me sound like a schoolgirl.

But before I’d met Emily, I told myself that even if things progressed really well, I should email other girls to keep my options open, to cultivate other possibilities.

But I didn’t. Because things were going really well. Sure, we’d only met a couple of times, but there was a definite spark and she seemed to feel the same as me. I wasn’t even tempted to look at other profiles.

However, that’s not to say I wasn’t tempted to find out who was looking at mine; there was a ‘who’s viewed me’ page on the website and I noticed that the counter had increased a little. I was curious to see who was checking me out, so I clicked and -

Oh.

Oh dear. I recognised someone; a girl from work.

Shite. What if she told everyone? This could be very bad. You see, in the Place That I Work, people tend to talk about everyone else, and rumours spread like fire among the staff.

What would people say if the girl mentioned she saw my profile? Was there still a stigma attached to the concept of online dating? Would people point and laugh as I walked past? Would I be the subject of hushed whispers in the corridors? Would Noah take the piss right out me?

Actually, I daresay no-one would care. I’m a quiet guy and there are a lot of employees where I work. Some of them may not even know who I am, including the girl that viewed my profile.

And even if people did talk, I decided that I wouldn’t care. First of all, I’d met Emily and she was incredible. Secondly, if it really was worth gossiping about then surely the girl from work wouldn’t want to admit that she was a member as well.

Right?

I was nervous going into work in the days that followed, but I didn’t see her and no-one asked me about it, so I decided to forget about it.

Thank goodness for that.

And then I arranged Date Three with Emily, and it was Very Good.

*Yes, that is an Iron Maiden reference.

**What’s your opinion on this? Answers on a postcard, please.