Five blog posts and two and a half tinder dates down and I am still yet to find Bae. I know they say that patience is a virtue but so far there has been a lot of frog kissing and not one of them has magically transformed into a prince (for the record, I didn’t actually kiss any of the baes mentioned so far, this statement is purely metaphorical). My despondent mood was not raised by the rare treat of a Skype date with Amy, a good friend of mine who lives in Sydney.
While she lounged on her balcony with the purple hues of a blossoming Jacaranda tree in the background, I clutched a mug of tea and huddled by a radiator. As lovely as it was to catch up, it made me miss my Sydney lifestyle. With sunshine, beaches, and the option to make sartorial decisions based on fashion rather than an overriding need for warmth, it makes you wonder why the entire population of Cumbria hasn’t upped sticks and made the move. Cumbria’s answer to Bondi is Silloth, which is about as sexy as its name suggests. Sydney residents not only have the benefit of a perpetual tan, but without multiple jumpers to hide under, the summer bod is a permanent state of being. Not only did I miss Sydney and Amy, but I was jealous of the endless potential baes she must be surrounded by.
It was reassuring, therefore, when Amy recounted the tale of her latest romantic prospect, Jake. Having met through friends, Jake asked Amy out for a drink. The evening was a success, the drinks and conversation both flowing freely, so they decided to progress into what has thus far been unchartered territory for me, a second date. Jake asked Amy if he could cook her dinner - a bold move; laying both his house and culinary skills bare for judgement.
Second date D-Day eventually arrived and Amy duly made the trek to the Northern suburbs. Upon answering the door Jake announced that he was just rolling out his muscles and would Amy mind chatting to him whilst he finished. I am fully aware that releasing muscle tightness is necessary. It also gives the impression that this is a man who not only works out but is tuned in to his body’s needs. One would think, however, that if you knew you had someone coming round for dinner, someone that you had invited and ultimately wanted to impress, you would either get the rolling out of the way before they arrived or maybe let your practice slip on this one occasion. Not Jake. Undaunted and determined, he proceeded to lie on the floor, sliding his body back and forth over a foam tube. Amy sat on the sofa and watched uncomfortably; unsure if this ritual was intended as alluring or purely practical. If the former, but the time the performance finished, forty-five minutes later, it had not had the desired effect.
After three quarters of an hour, Amy was starting to get quite hungry and was greatly relieved when the evening moved from the sitting room floor to the kitchen. To add insult to his now relieved muscle injury, Ailment Bae had been so focussed on listening to his body that he hadn’t actually bought any ingredients. A romantic candle-lit dinner for two turned into a lukewarm Thai takeaway. Once sat at the table, rather than making polite conversation, or maybe possibly in an attempt to, Jake launched into an in-depth description of his ailments that could not be resolved by lying on a glorified pool noodle. His primary concern was his in-growing toenail. An apparently strong believer in actions speak louder than words, off came the socks and a foot landed on the table in front of Amy for her to inspect. Amy’s Pad See Ew threatened to be seen again!
From one extremity to another, Jake jumped straight from his toes to his head. At this point it became clear why he had invited Amy to dinner at all. At the ripe age of twenty-three, Ailment Bae was most distressed to find his first grey hair. He desperately needed a second pair of eyes and hands to undertake a thorough examination for any that may be lurking on the back of his head. As Jake’s grasp of mating rituals was beginning to appear more and more simian, Amy beat a hasty retreat back across the Harbour Bridge.
As sorry as I felt for Amy following her traumatic experience, this story cheered me up no end. Jake’s unwavering pursuit of the archetypal, toned, tanned figure one associated with Sydney had forced him to neglect other areas of improvement such as social skills or any other form of hobbies and interests. It was reassuring to learn that there are just as many (if not more, considering the differences in population) dud dates to be had in Sydney as there are in Carlisle. Following that story, I don’t think I will be rushing to Silloth to see what Cumbria’s seaside has to offer any time soon!