Post Eleven - Lessons to be Learned

Although I wasn’t quite over Emily, I decided to make an effort, rather than sit around moping and moaning (that’s what made me do it in the first place, after all). I thought it would be best to be proactive, and jump into the deep end.

I was wrong.

I decided, without really thinking  it through, to sign up to the same dating site again. I wanted something else to occupy my mind, and, hopefully, meet someone that I liked as much as Emily. I wanted to replicate that feeling of nervous excitement that we had on our first date. I wanted date someone, and talk and laugh and be amazed that several hours felt like minutes.

Basically, I still wanted Emily, but she was gone.

So I signed up again, and looked around, and made a list in my head about who I liked.

I must have emailed about ten or fifteen different girls in the one sitting. I fired off emails to girls I thought were attractive and interesting, girls I seemed to have a lot in common with, girls who I thought could be good for me and who I thought I could be good for.

I received no replies, except a short-lived conversation with an Irish girl, who was just being polite.

I re-read my sent messages; they all sounded the same.

“Hi there, my name’s Rob, hope you don’t mind me saying hello! I like your [favourite book/film], have you read/saw [Title Of A Book By The Same Author/Film By The Same Director]? Being a [whatever your job title is] must be interesting/challenging!

Anyway, just thought I’d say hello!”

I must have e-mailed 15 girls with basically the same message. This wasn’t a conscious decision; I didn’t see the point in sending out dozens of messages that had no personal touch – I wanted to take time, and craft my messages with a subtle blend of humour and sincerity.

But I failed to do this. My heart just wasn’t in it this time.

Then I got a reply from a girl called Rose.

Rose seemed interesting, and she was attractive; I liked her 30s-era art deco, Flm Noir style. We communicated briefly before (at the same time as I was e-mailing Emily) when she sent me a ‘wink’ (which is basically what someone does if they want to break the ice without sending an e-mail).

I’d never used the Wink function myself, though I was tempted to send one back to see how long it’d take before one of us teased a proper e-mail from the other. But we could have been there for months, just winking at each other, so I said hello to her instead.

Anyway, it didn’t go further than that because I’d started seeing Emily.

I can’t remember the conversation exactly (I wish I saved those e-mails at the time…), but she remembered me and agreed to meet up for a date.

After a few rearrangements and cancellations and rearranging some more, we met up in a bar in the West End. She looked exactly like her photo, and I wish I was sitting inside so I could have thought “I knew she was trouble as she walked through the door”, because that’s what happens in Film Noir. But we met outside, so I didn’t.

The night wasn’t brilliant. It wasn’t awful either, it was just… Nothing. We didn’t have a whole lot in common, though we both liked Terry Pratchett, and she had good taste in films.

It was selfish of me, but I kept comparing everything to my first date with Emily; the bar here wasn’t as good, the conversation stuttered from one topic to the next, we had different senses of humour… My first date with Emily was better in every conceivable way.

This wasn’t Rose’s fault, of course. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just the way it was.

Afterwards, we said our goodbyes, and then I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Because I didn’t know what to say after that.

It was obvious to the both of us that we simply weren’t interested in each other, but I found myself saying, ‘So, uh, would you like to do something again?’

‘Uh, sure, okay,’ she said.

‘Good. Uh, well I’ll be in touch then.’

‘Cool. Bye.’

‘Bye.’

Well, that was awkward. I had no idea what else to say.

I told Tim about it a couple of days later. We were in a pub, having lunch (I had steak, scampi, chicken, chips and peas, all on the same plate, which is the best meal anyone has ever thought of).

‘Are you sure she’s not interested?’ Tim said.

‘Yeah, pretty sure.’

‘She did agree to meet up again, though.’

‘She was just being polite. Which is okay, ‘cause I’m not interested in her.’

‘Then why did you ask her out again?’

‘I have no idea. I just didn’t know what else to say.’

‘Idiot.’

‘Aye.’

I sent Rose a text, just to say hello. She replied with, “Hey, I’m doing good thanks. There wasn’t any spark the other night so I’m afraid I’m not going to be anything more than a friend.”

 This was a relief. I was dreading a second date, where both of us were just going through the motions, being too polite, making small talk. I was glad that we were on the same wavelength.

But it was clear that I still had feelings for Emily. This was 2 months since she dumped me, the same length of time we were going out.

I had some thinking to do.