Speed dating skeptic
The other dates zoom by - no-one particular takes my fancy. One guy gets all psycho on me for asking what he does. I protest that I’m not interested in status but he’s having none of it. I guess I couldn’t think of anything else to say and it just slipped out. That’s a big problem with my dating technique, especially speeded up; things just slip out, like the adultery chat. Oops.
The hapless boy I’d spied earlier in a blue blazer carrying a linen bag was sadly not in my round but we caught each other’s eye and had a fun chat. “I wish you’d have been in my round,” he said, complimenting my Breton stripes. “You look much more up my street.” He’s a pianist poet and seemed as baffled as me by speed dating protocol. I got his card, and Mediterranean boy’s number as we shared a fag outside. Who said smoking isn’t sexy?!
All in all, not bad considering I was a total speed dating skeptic. I just dropped the pianist poet a text so let’s see...I think I’ll leave handkerchief boy ‘til next week. One at a time - I’m an old-fashioned girl at heart.