4) Blind Date (1)
July 4, 2006
Spending an entire evening with a man you've never met before is a fearful concept. Add to it two 'supportive' friends, clearly in the throes of plentiful, experimental sex, selling you like a two bedroom garden flat in Barnes, then in the immortal words of Abba, further perpetuated by Faye Tozer from Steps, it becomes a 'Tragedy.' I have never been on a blind date. I realize that I am un-set-upable. I swallow my pride and I beg everyone I know to bloody well find me a man. I send texts, write emails and call my entire phonebook. I receive quite a few "Sorry, who are you?"s. One was from a girl I worked with four years ago. After alot of 'Lucy! No I'm not Jamaican! Who? No! Lucy! Dark hair, actress. Yes.Yes! That awful waitressing job! Yes! Greta Gestapo the menopausal boss!' the girl in question comes up trumps. She clearly has all the straight single men in London locked up in a basement dungeon available for blind dates on request. She gives me a choice of three. It's a selection which makes living alone forever with only the company of incontinent cats seem an attractive prospect. So it’s over to “our Graham” for a look at the contestants. Will it be Number 1) the self-employed carpenter (29) Number 2) the soliciter (35-40) Or Number 3) the orthodontist (31) I put it to the vote…. I give my friends my delicate musings on love and cite Robert Browning’s poetry. They give me lewd gags about “wood” and cite Carrie’s boyfriend, Aidan, from Sex and the City. They choose the carpenter. I call waitressing friend with the result. “Great! He’s Albanian, but he speaks ‘OK English’ so at least you can have a conversation” “Wow! Lovely” I say because the nuns taught me not to discriminate. Now, I have to admit that I hate most foreign people. This is because I have done many waitressing jobs. So most nationalities have shouted at me. I do quite like Italians though. They flirt outrageously and like to see women eating. I try to think whether I’ve had a run in with an Albanian. I can’t recall one. We might be OK. I do some research about Albania, so that I can prepare some conversation topics I discover 1) Albania borders Greece. I have just been in a Greek Tragedy play. We’re made for each other. 2) Albania was communist until 1992. I decide to do most of the decision making as he’s probably still not used to democratic ways. 3) Albanians in Britain are said to be involved in extortion, gun running, organized theft and prostitution. I pick the phone up to cancel. 4) Albanians plotted to kidnap Victoria Beckham. I put the phone down. I warm to him. 5) Mother Teresa was from Albania. The nuns will be delighted. I try to learn some Albanian. 1) “Hi” is “Mie” 2) “Bye” is “Tung” 3) “Put the gun down” is “ule pistoleten posht” I dress in the colours of the Albanian flag. The theme is “Mother Teresa meets gun toting bad ass.” Shakatak’s Ma Baker is the tune in my head. I go to see a play with a friend in the afternoon before my blind date. We have great seats. The show is amazing. I come out buoyant. I turn my phone on. Frantic message from waitressing friend “Lucy. Lucy. Have a drink or two before you come. The boys are watching football. They’ve been drinking vodka. They’ve been toasting their hands in the toaster!!” Football!! Bugger!! I can’t believe I’ve been watching Shakespeare when there’s a match on. I run to nearest pub. I buy a nice cold lager drink. I watch the second half of the England match. My theatre friend is short. She stands at the front of the crowd. Owing to my Albanian Badass high heel shoes. I have to stand further back. I am in a tall man pie. It’s delicious, warm and comforting. I am content. The men around me sound like David Beckham would had his balls dropped. I would describe them as “Fit Essex”. You can tell that they’re nice to their mothers. Frequently they sing a song “Frankie P’s got an erection. Frankie P’s got an erection. Frankie P’s got an erection” It’s quite catchy. Clearly I’m itching to check whether he does have an erection but I don’t. Those pesky nuns have a lot to answer for I can tell you. Erection or otherwise, I like Frankie P. He holds my pint so that I can rummage in my bag for my mobile phone when I need to. His wife wears lovely shoes. I am surprised when she tells me they came from Marks and Spencer. Frankie P talks to his friend about tackles and defence. His friend wears a pink T-shirt. He fills it very well. I like a tanned man in pink. The match ends and it’s nil nil. I have to leave and go and meet my Albanian Jackass carpenter. I realize something extraordinary. I don’t want to go. I want to stay and watch the footie in this tasty man pie. I ask Frankie P to hold my pint. I send a text to waitressing friend. I cancel my blind date. I blame extra time. After thousands of years of female oppression here am I blowing a date out for the footie. I feel empowered. “ Treat ‘em mean” I think. Male friend is convinced that “treat ‘em mean” is the route to sex. (Spanish girl from speed dating read the blog. Spanish girl discovered that my male friend thought she was mad as a brush. Spanish girl invited male friend over to her flat at 1.30 in the morning!) I feel like a man. “Frankie P’s got an erection” I chant. During the little half time interval Frankie P introduces Pink T-shirt “This is Tony- he’s travelled all over the world” “Wow! So where have you travelled?” “I’ve just come back from Peru, Bolivia, Chile, Brazil and Argentina” “Bloody hell!!” “Well I’m self employed and single so I like to take myself off sometimes” “Really what do you do?” “I’m a carpenter” He looks a bit like Carrie’s boyfriend from Sex and the City. I think “wood.” I blush “I’m currently an out of work actress” “Do you like going to the theatre? You know what I’d like to see?? Evita. Eva Peron was everywhere in Argentina.” “Evita’s amazing. I know all the words” I wish I wouldn’t say these things. He looks slightly alarmed. “I’d love to take you to see it. No funny business. I’ll buy the tickets. Good seats though. I hate being at the back or the side.” We swap numbers. His friends are staring so much I’m starting to sweat. England bugger up the penalties. We are out of the World Cup. Everyone’s hopes are smashed. The full pub is quiet. Pink T turns to me “This isn’t a great day. But meeting you was a great thing.” Bastard still hasn’t called. Albanian carpenter is very keen to see me though.
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25) Guardian Soulmates Online