Date 5: the ginge

Bit of a lapse since the last update. The recent sunshine has caused me to be remiss since my last date a couple of weeks ago…

I really was so excited about this one. Another dating website date, I knew that he was a dashing cavalry officer, had excellent banter in his emails and texts, looked divine in his photos, loves skiing, sports, country walks, his dog… his ginger hair was the possible deal breaker but he looked so scrummy in his photos that I resolutely refused to let it bother me.

We had been texting back and forth a lot over the last couple of weeks as we couldn't find a date to meet up for a while – and had even had a few phone calls as well where we chatted away for about an hour each time – amazing! And the first time I have spoken to a date on the phone in advance of meeting them (someone has since told me that this was however possibly his way of checking that I sounded normal – good approach). I think the delayed gratification aspect of it all added to my excitement factor - suffice to say as I bounced off to meet him on Northcote Road, I was more than convinced that I might be about to meet the near-perfect man…

Instant problem. There was no way he was 5 foot 11 as his profile stated. Felt instant outrage as I had worn 2 inch heels feeling I would still be 2 inches shorter than him. As it was I was walking along with my umbrella easily able to cover him rather than poking him in the eye as he was jolly well practically the same height as me - hurumph.

I decided to let it go. Besides, he was very funny and easy to chat to. We got mildly tipsy over a few cocktails, and then I asked him where he had gone to uni. He had not. Oops. How had we not covered this in our hour long phone calls?!

I actually sensed his response halfway through asking the question as his brow furrowed a little, so I tried to mask the assumption contained in my question by asking if he had decided not to go to uni… Furrowed brow interpretation was correct - he spent 3 years working before joining the army but did live with student friends in a decent university city at the same time, so he felt he still enjoyed all the fun times of being a student. Still, it didn’t prevent the big question suddenly looming in front of my eyes - "oh dear, is he thick?"

He certainly didn't seem so, and it probably makes me a terrible intellectual snob to think like this, which I realised when it hit me that all I wanted to ask him was what his A-level results were to try and determine his brain capacity. But one can't really do that. Unfortunately.

Anyway, a fun evening, but ultimately his being vertically challenged with a potential lack of grey cells sadly dampened any pre-meeting enthusiasm I had for my cavalry officer. And, most sadly, it seems that his pre-meeting enthusiasm for me was somewhat of a damp squib as well as the multitude of texts had been receiving have since ceased. (I have tried to analyse why this might be the case, and as I vaguely recall gabbling away about my father bringing me up like a boy and him looking slightly startled, I think that could be the problem. Note to self: leave the parental emotional scarring stories out of first date conversations).