The Dating Game. Carolyn Caterer

dates and not a smidgen of romance in any of them. Looking on the bright side I reminded myself that three dates compared to the number of men out there was a very small sample and so making judgements at this stage was perhaps not very helpful.

      Instead I would see them all as a learning experience, rather like the early knockout rounds of a tennis competition. I knew that I was making my way slowly but surely to the final and that all I needed to do was keep focussed on what lay ahead.

      Chapter 5

      Date #4: Chris

      The next date was taken purely on the basis that I wanted to have a bit of fun and, being targeted by a 26 year old was rather flattering to put it lightly. Obviously I took a great deal of stick from my brother Patrick;

      “Well I suppose you are only just old enough to be his Mother!”

      “Oh how very funny. If the roles were reversed and you were dating some young thing everyone would be saying ‘Good for you, you lucky dog’ or whatever it is. Just look at people like Rod Stewart and Michael Douglas, no one bats an eyelid when they wed much younger women and go on to have kids with them. When it is Joan Collins however they all greet the news with disbelief or horror. Talk about double standards. Anyway I am just going to go out there and enjoy myself and see what happens”

      I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that Chris was going to turn up to be honest. We had arranged the day and time and yet, when I confirmed on the day I didn’t get a response from him. I had arrived early and was parked outside the restaurant, not wanting to go in just in case he was going to stand me up and leave me sitting on my own looking a rather sad figure surrounded no doubt by every young couple within a ten mile radius just to run in my single status.

      I sent him another text but still nothing as the ticking of the clock on my dashboard seemed to get louder and louder as if it were counting down to a disappointing anti climax.

      I then noticed a man walking up and down the street looking a bit flustered and bearing more than a passing resemblance to the photograph I had seen on the website.

      I stepped out of the car and walked towards him. “Chris?” I said a little more hesitantly than I had intended and he spun around and smiled at me awkwardly.

      “Jen, hi” He took my hand and shook it enthusiastically. No limp handshake here, thank goodness. “I am so sorry, my mobile has died and so I haven’t been able to text you to confirm. I was half wondering if you would turn up and so have been walking around, not wanting to go in and sit on my own all evening.”

      He smiled again and it was really quite endearing; it had a boyish lop-sided quality about it and it made me want to take care of him. Good grief I was in danger of taking a motherly approach. I ordered myself to snap out of it immediately.

      Chris was dressed in dark green trousers with a stripey shirt, carefully chosen it would seem, to disguise the fact that it had probably not seen an iron since its purchase. However he looked pretty presentable and I noticed he had lovely clean fingernails, which is always a good thing. He had short light brown wavy hair, with blonde highlights that I concluded couldn’t be natural so he must be interested in his appearance. He was also discreetly sporting a fairly expensive watch. It was an interesting combination and one which I found quite appealing.

      As an extra bonus he didn’t seem to be looking at me with complete horror so I cannot have been looking that old! I thanked the cosmetic companies for introducing light reflecting technology into their make-up products, thus helping me to belie my years.

      I had wondered if he was coming out with me as some sort of bet with his mates and that they were in fact all hiding inside the restaurant ready to sit in judgement of my suitability. I was feeling more nervous than I had on any of my previous dates and I realised it was because I felt that there was more at stake here than there had been up to this point.

      He shifted from one foot to another as I said hallo and, after a slightly awkward handshake plus a quick peck on the cheek, we walked into the restaurant. Now, I don’t mean to be critical of the younger generation and yes, I know that this may make me sound like a grumpy old woman, but what seems to have disappeared from the male portfolio in terms of etiquette, is the ability to take command of a situation and that leaves you floundering around as you try to work out your role on an evening out.

      (Note to all you men out there; women like the man to sort out the table on a date and to look after her. It is not the role of the woman to do it. Yes we are perfectly capable of doing so and make decisions all the time, but we like our men to take command and treat us like a princess!)

      We stood in the reception area and a waiter came over to us with an expectant look on his face. Well I thought it was expectant, maybe it was disbelief at an older woman arriving with a younger man, but I chose to completely ignore the issue as if I had walked in with a man sixteen years my senior, no one would have batted an eyelid. I stood quietly and waited for Chris to ask for a table, but I was greeted with silence. After about ten seconds of this, following the “Can I help you?” from the waiter I could stand it no longer and asked for a table for two in the conservatory area, which was nice and bright in the summer evening which meant I could get a good look at him before it got dark.

      Chris didn’t seem to think that it was at all odd that I sorted out the table and he then proceeded to walk in front of me and plonk himself down in the seat facing out towards the restaurant. I just hoped that he didn’t suffer from ADHD or else I knew he would soon be ignoring me and focussing on the action taking place behind me.

      We made some small talk and then ordered our food and I began the interrogation, noting that he had taken out his napkin and thrust it down the neck of his shirt. As he had ordered the spaghetti (never a good move on a first date) I could only imagine that he knew he was going to make a bit of a mess and so had taken action to reduce the damage. The sight of him sitting there with the napkin dangling down his front only served to reduce his appearance to that of a three year old.

      I decided to ignore this spectacle as I sailed in with my first question, designed to break the ice in a non-threatening way and create a relaxing atmosphere in which I could get to know him better. I may not have held out great hopes for him bearing in mind the age gap, but I was determined to enjoy my date.

      “So Chris, what degree did you do at University?”

      “Geography”

      “Oh wow, me too! Mind you I have to say that I have absolutely no sense of direction, which is really embarrassing as people seem to think I must instinctively know where every major city is in the UK and the Capital cities for the rest of the world!”

      This seemed to be a good start as we already had something in common. I decided to plough on and broaden the questions immediately.

      “So what job is it you do now? You haven’t mentioned it in your profile”

      “I’m a painter and decorator.”

      “You must be in demand in that case, as people seem to be doing their own decorating less and less these days from what I can see.”

      “Yeah, I’m quite busy so cannot complain.”

      The waiter arrived with our drinks and then scurried off, no doubt to tell his colleagues that this wasn’t a mother and son outing.

      “Oh and don’t tell me – you don’t decorate your own house rather like the car mechanic who never puts oil in his car?” I wanted him to see that I did have a sense of humour.

      “I don’t, but that’s because I live in rented accommodation as I am still paying off my student loan.”

      This was not quite the revelation I had expected and it caused me to choke on my orange juice. I come from an era where student loans hadn’t been invented and most of us managed to ensure