I had learnt my lesson from my incident with Interchangeable Bae who, if anything, did a pretty good job of single-handedly personifying the reasons Brexit is a bad idea. I was not going to make the same mistake twice so for my next date I went as international as possible. Enter Francisco. Francisco was half Brazilian and half Swiss but had gone to university, or school as he called it, in America. That’s three out of the seven continents covered in one sentence! You can’t get much better than that. Well it turns out you can - he was clearly a dab hand at travel and willing to show off his skills, offering to travel up to my neck of the woods, Camden for our date. The dream: continental yet convenient!
This got me thinking, maybe there was another benefit to restarting “The Dater Analyst”. I decided to take every dating opportunity, when possible, to try out a different bar in my new neighbourhood. This was admittedly a risky strategy; if I suggested a bar I’d never been to and it turned out to be an absolute dive or, as can quite often be the case in Camden, we accidentally ended up in a punk metal themed Irish pub or a gothic brewery, the date may not form the best first impression. Secondly, I could get hit with the double whammy of a bad bar AND a bad date; finding myself drinking warm flat beer and sticking to the floor of a shabby pub whilst simultaneously wracking my brain for anything to say to keep the conversation alive with someone who had lost a great deal of hair and gained a great deal of weight since the pictures on their dating profile were taken… On balance I decided it was worth a try, if nothing else The Dater Analyst can become a handy (and pretty niche) guide to dating in North West London.
To kick off my new experiment I had selected Fifty Five Bar, a local cocktail bar. I got there first and quickly realised I had already lost on the first gamble of the evening. The bar was fine but a bit studenty; the paintwork was rather chipped and the holes in the faux leather benches that lined the walls like a common room has been covered with several layers of sellotape. It didn’t scream romance. It was also nowhere near Halloween which made me wonder whether the decorations were still up from last year, if the bar was meant to have a vampire theme, or if the cobwebs were just due to lack of dusting. It was not a great start to the date when Francisco walked in and I immediately had to apologise for the location. We also quickly learnt that they didn’t have any beer on draft so we had to make do with the lukewarm bottles I had been dreading.
Our surroundings had set the standard pretty low. Conversation with Francisco put the evening on a steady incline though. It turned out that not only was he half Brazilian, half Swiss and educated in America but he also worked in foreign policy and had previously lived in both Myanmar and Pakistan. That was another continent ticked off, ten minutes in and we were over half way towards a continental bingo! Given his profession as well, it looked like he was in with a pretty high chance of hitting a full house! Things only improved when he also mentioned that he spoke five languages. I was suitably impressed and mumbled something about having spent a couple of months in France and worked in a bar in Peru (I didn’t let on that this only increased my Spanish vocabulary by about five words: avocado, bill, beer, drink and thank you). My year abroad in Sydney was also beginning to look rather tame.
Ok, so he had absolutely trumped me on the travel front. The conversation turned to another mutual interest, literature. It turned out he had just finished Sally Rooney’s Normal People and was now reading Milkman by Anna Burns. This was huge news. These are both books that we have done for our book group and are probably two of the most unanimously liked and avidly debated books we have had since the group formed over two years ago. Major brownie points to Francisco.
Another round of lukewarm beers was ordered and conversation turned to plans for the future. Francisco said that whilst he really enjoyed his job his ambition was to move to his own farm one day. Ah, I grew up on a farm in Cumbria, how convenient! With all the major bases covered I decided to see how good this guy really was and chuck in a few curve balls. For the first time since I moved here, I considered myself a real Londoner as we spent the next ten minutes discussing the correct tube etiquette - I had a whole new respect for him when I found out that he quite happily asked people to stand up if there was someone more deserving of their seat. He still found the levels of British politeness and enjoyment of queueing baffling but whole-heartedly agreed with my belief that vegans shouldn’t have Amazon Prime (maybe one to be discussed in a further post).
I know what you’re thinking, this guy sounds like an absolute catch. Why has the blog come back at all? Why haven’t I just ridden straight off into the sunset with Francisco to tick off those last three remaining continents? There was just one issue though. Whilst I could have sat and talked to Francisco for hours on end, I had absolutely no desire to rip his clothes off. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good looking. There was absolutely nothing misleading about him or different from the pictures I had initially swiped right to, there just wasn’t a spark. So much so, that I got nervous for the end of the date, in case he might lean in. I really didn’t want to kiss him but also really didn’t want to reject him because he was so great.
On a quick side note, I learnt a wee tip on this date that could be potentially beneficial to anyone contemplating dabbling in app dating but too nervous to make the leap. When organising the date, caveat the discussion by saying that you can only stay until a certain time as you have dinner plans. In this instance I did in fact have dinner plans but that needn’t necessarily be the case. This way you go into a date knowing that you already have an exit strategy, even if it is truly awful you will be able to count down the minutes until you have said you have to leave rather than desperately wracking your brains to find a reason to get out of there without being rude. If, alternatively, it is love at first sight, you can either conveniently find a reason that your dinner has been cancelled or know that you are leaving them wanting more.
In this instance, I was about to get up to leave when he said he needed the loo. I said that I actually had to go too or I was going to be late for dinner so the parting was a quick hug rather than the usual prolonged putting on of coats, collecting belongings, leaving the bar together, working out which direction the other one is going in then potentially being faced with the worst situation of all: a good bye on the tube. Avoid this one at all costs! So many witnesses, such awkward angles, so many possibilities of getting the timing wrong. Say goodbye too early and you risk the train suddenly stopping short of the platform meaning you have to go through the whole thing again thirty seconds later. Say goodbye too late and there’s a rushed hug with backpacks and elbows everywhere followed by a mad scramble for the door. Come to think of it, I really should have brought this up in my lengthy discussion with Francisco about tube etiquette!
The next day I had an incredibly sweet message from Francisco saying that he had loved meeting me and would like to get to know me better but got the impression I wasn’t really feeling it and if that was the case there was no hard feelings. I really need to work on hiding my emotions better! Full marks to Francisco though for his emotional intelligence. I replied saying that he was right, I wasn’t really feeling it romantically but had enjoyed my evening and would love to stay in touch as friends (it’s really hard to ever use that line without it sounding incredibly corny). I asked him if he would like to join my book club. He didn’t reply. Fair enough really.