The Dating Game. Carolyn Caterer

about my biological clock (where on earth did he read about that and why on earth was he talking to me about it?) and how nice it would be to have some, gulp, grandchildren.

      I did try to explain that it was the twenty first century and I was a woman of independent means (even this argument was starting to sound a bit sad to me) and so I didn’t need to conform and produce six kids to keep the economy on track, no matter what the chancellor might say.

      You can imagine my surprise when at the age of thirty my parents announced their divorce. I know that they had little in common even when they had first married, but all the same I was somewhat taken aback at the news. It seemed to stem from the fact that my Dad wanted to go and live in Spain when he retired and my Mum was having none of it. Finally after much talking and, when no compromise could be reached, Dad headed off to their Villa, leaving my Mum with the marital home. All in all one of the most amicable splits I had come across.

      But for me, worse was to come on my fortieth birthday: there was I having a great time at Polly’s, who had agreed to host the event when a call came through on my mobile.

      “Wow Dad, great to hear from you and glad you managed to track me down…..” I wandered out in the back garden for better reception and to have a quick chat and tell him all about my day, fully prepared to defend yet another twelve months without a ring on my finger and a man on my arm. Thing is, the conversation didn’t turn out like as I had planned at all.

      Five minutes later I was walking back into the lounge, in what can only be described as a state of shock and, disbelief.

      “Crikey Jen what on earth is going on? “ demanded Erica.

      “Don’t tell me your Dad is ill?” Anna asked, a look of concern etched into her face.

      “No, no, nothing like that. In fact he is as fit as the proverbial fiddle” came my reply.

      “So has he spent all his money on some failed enterprise then?” Aleks tried to lighten things up a bit.

      I shook my head slowly, not sure I was able to speak and wondering if I was in a dream or an alcoholic stupor, except that I knew I had only consumed a glass of champagne the whole evening so that meant that what my Dad had said was absolutely real.

      “Jen you are starting to worry us now, what on earth is it?” demanded Polly who had rushed in from the kitchen after seeing the look on my face as I was walking back towards the house.

      “My Dad is getting married….” Even as the words fell from my lips I wasn’t sure I could really believe them.

      “Married?!” was the unified response from my girlfriends.

      “Please tell us that this is some kind of a joke” exclaimed Erica, the alarm in her voice starting to show as the colour drained from her cheeks.

      “I’m afraid not. Her name is Susie and he met her at a yoga class in the village.”

      “I don’t even want to go there!” was Anna’s horrified reaction.

      “Apparently she’s the teacher and is very bendy, according to my Dad”

      “I think I am going to be sick.”

      “Can you believe it?” I stood before them, wondering how this had happened. OK my Dad was pretty fit and I guess a good catch, but it had never really occurred to me that he would be interested in another woman in more than a platonic way.

      “What, that he’s having rampant sex with a really bendy woman in her sixties? Oh Jen, please don’t tell me she’s twenty years younger than him, or worse still, our age?” came Erica’s worried question

      “No, she is in her sixties, but that isn’t it. It’s the fact that my Dad has managed to get married twice and I haven’t even made it up the aisle once!”

      “Wow, I never knew you wanted a church wedding…..”

      “Aleks this isn’t the time for a conversation about wedding venues.” Erica shot her a look which quickly caused Aleks to fall silent from further comment on the subject.

      “This is the worst birthday ever!”

      “No it isn’t Jen. Stop being a drama queen, You have always told me that your worst birthday was your twenty-first when that awful boyfriend of yours, wasn’t it Duncan who was a biochemist or something, threw up over your birthday cake and then over you.”

      “Thanks Erica, I feel so much better now being reminded of that incident. Oh God can this really be happening to me? Can it get any worse than my Dad getting remarried?”

      “Well only if your Mum remarries before you as well I guess” was Anna’s slightly hesitant reply.

      I started to laugh.

      “Well so far her comments on the single life seem to be very favourable. She said when they got divorced all those years ago that she was glad she didn’t have to cook a roast every Sunday, but also that she didn’t have to wash anyone else’s dirty underpants!”

      “Eew!” chorused the girls in unison.

      Erica stood up and addressed the room.

      “Now is the time for action and we really need you to get out there and go on as many internet dates as possible. Remember that statistically the more men you meet the more likely you are to find the one that suits you or in other words as beautifully summed up in that well known phrase ‘You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince’”.

      “Thank you Barbara Cartland. Personally I’d rather not have to kiss the frogs, if that is at all possible, but I get your point so now, let’s get out the cake and have a great evening.”

      Determined not to be outdone by my Father, let alone both parents, I awoke the next day feeling full of determination and ready to meet my Mr Darcy, but feeling that even a Mr Bingley would be acceptable at this stage.

      Chapter 6

      Date #5: Greg

      Determined not to be put off by stereotypes, my next date was with Greg who was in IT. Now I am not saying that I am a technophobe, because I do have a computer and a mobile, but let’s just say that my technical expertise on both is probably only at GCSE standard and most twelve year olds probably have a greater ability with Power Point than yours truly, but I would beat them each time when it came to a touch typing test!

      The photograph on his profile certainly looked ok, but I couldn’t work out his hair – it seemed to be slicked back and fairly short, though I couldn’t see where it ended, which suggested he must be keeping Brilcreem in business, but I could cope with that.

      We exchanged a few emails and I managed to establish that he was an unlikely candidate to be an axe murderer so I agreed to meet him for a coffee in the shopping mall at Basingstoke (plenty more shopping opportunities for me if he proved to be a challenge too far). Erica often commented that she wondered if I was perhaps not focussing so much on the men on the website, but on the additional things I could do with my allotted time if my date failed to be of any interest. While I thought this might be a little harsh, I had to acknowledge that there was an element of truth in it, but that was mainly due to my natural leaning towards making the best use of my time no matter where I was or what I was doing.

      I arrived a couple of minutes early and took my seat in the Starbucks along with the shoppers, retired couples and Mums with young kids that seemed to frequent it late in the afternoon, but just before the schools managed to get there.

      When Greg walked in a few minutes later I didn’t recognise him. Even as he approached my table I assumed he was coming over to borrow the sugar or something until he said my name.

      “Hi