Adventures in Dating: Don’t shit where you eat

25 Feb
The Office's Pam and Jim - fictional proof that you can shit where you eat sometimes.

The Office’s Pam and Jim – fictional proof that you can shit where you eat sometimes.

I’ve often heard it said you shouldn’t shit where you eat. That same logic applies to professional and personal lives. It’s why we’re advised not to get involved with those we work with, and why dating friends is frowned upon. It’s also partly why I’ve been looking beyond home turf with dating.

Over the years the best prospects of a relationship have been when I’ve been travelling. There I meet people with shared interests, passions and tolerance. But they’re also impractical distances from home, and I don’t get to travel that often.

But embracing the world of online dating once more I’m reminded that many likely matches live across the Irish Sea or deep in mystical Ireland. Ladies I’ve had deeply satisfying conversations with. Women that tickle my aesthetical longing. When I’m out and about and my geotag settings change I get more people looking at my profile. And no wonder – there’s vast numbers out there in a way humble Belfast cannot compete. Reset my boundaries and I may find someone suitable.

I’m sitting in a bar many miles from home, nursing a pint of ale. In the semi-darkness on a too-small chair at the corner of a large table, a candelabra shielding me from the couple at the far corner. She’s late. Naturally. But we’ve been texting so I’m forewarned as she strides up to the table. A tall raven-haired beauty with piercing eyes and a wicked smile.

I stand, she sits. I get drinks. We find a better seat at the far end of the room, with slightly better lighting, and we talk. A lot.

The conversation comes in fits and starts at times. We’ve been flirting online and there’s definitely a chemistry in person, but I’m a bucket of nerves and so paranoid I’m going to say the wrong thing I nearly throw it. I try not to sound like Rik Mayall in Bottom – “What a smashing blouse you have on.”

She’s been apologising for brushing my leg but I’m not bothered. I’ve tacitly touched her and the journey begins. Gradually at ease. We talk more.

Clumsily we’ve exchanged the prearranged code that means ‘yes, a kiss is acceptable’. Just when it looks like I’ve missed the moment and the night end abruptly I reach over and we lock lips. I’m not entirely sure what’s come over me, I honestly can’t recall the last time I did this sort of thing in public, but damn it feels good.

In the street some workmen are digging up the road while traffic whizzes past. I’ve allowed myself to ignore my usual hang-ups and we get close and kiss in a doorway…

I feel free. I’m not worrying about exes or friends or family stumbling on me. There’s a security in distance that if it hadn’t or doesn’t work out I shan’t live in fear of running into her awkwardly. My Hang-ups flew away on the breeze and I’m simply relishing the physicality, the animal lust. This is unlike my expectations of me, and yet I feel utterly sincere.

For now I’m not even going to think about tomorrow because this is a perfect awareness. Whether there’s one more date or 100, I’m over the top…

And yeah, there’s another date on the cards. I think 🙂

* I wasn’t going to post this blog, but she said I should. So I have. So that’s okay then.


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