I can barely believe what I’m about to say, so improbable does it seem. After months – nay, years – of tragic mishaps and countless calamitous rendezvous, I finally went on a date and … HE WAS NORMAL.
In fact, he was more than just normal, he was a very nice guy and we both agreed we’d be happy to meet up again. Cue the fireworks and streamers.
What’s even better is that the date was notable for its distinct lack of job interview-style questions: I still have no idea of his relationship history, job status or salary bracket, but I do know that he likes pisco sours and bodyweight training, is ambivalent about pumpkins and dislikes early morning appointments.
I’m looking forward to meeting him again.
But irrespective of whether the Great Date turns out to be Mr Right or not, the real gift this singular experience has given me is hope. It seems there are some interesting, fun, decent guys out there and I can start to envisage a future that may not involve being surrounded by cats. And thank heavens for that.
Anyway, since success breeds success, I suppose it stands to reason that the Phantom Texter should be back on the scene, keen to meet up and – no doubt – get down. He seems to have an uncanny knack of knowing when my attentions are drawn elsewhere and pops up at just the right moment to get me back on (his) track.
Now, you might think I’d be more excited about this – he is, after all, a devilishly charismatic gentleman, with more than a hint of sex appeal. But … let’s just say that his textual enthusiasm is well documented, but has yet to be borne out in real life.
It’s all well and good spouting on about how much you want to meet up … yadda, yadda, yadda … if you never actually get off your butt and make it happen. Castles in the air make a happy refuge in times of relationship drought, but sooner or later you need to back up those sweet words and empty promises with some real-life action.
In any case, I have a feeling that is going to be a good year.
It’s true that Cupid is a bit behind schedule, but I hope he has a trick or two up his sleeve. Because in terms of singledom, I’ve more than paid my dues. And besides, I bloody hate cats.