Tracey Emin Drawing
Just a brief meditation on failed dating scenarios, however complicated it might be; writing about everyday situations is somehow harder than writing anything fantastical; I may try and put this somewhere: I think the most prominent extract from me here is:
‘….this sense that the weight of the world is determined by your attitude, by your state of mind, rather than by anything remotely tangible.’
By Charlie Trotman
There’s disastrous weekends and then there is disaster-us weekends; I could tell from the look of her that we weren’t going to be able to have a couple beers, eat something random and go home and make love, laughing like drains to the hangover; but it was still nice to feel in her presence; that you she could actually see you.
So I began to miss that feeling and a few dating sites later and I began to wonder if I could get that feeling back; maybe just encapsulate it just one day and a morning a week; have someone to think about that wasn’t my own wretched self: meandering, wandering around; spinning on a wheel of repetition.
A couple of distant ‘heys’ followed by emoticons; and I’d found somebody that was going to at least be interesting; she was instantly responsive to my messages; had unedited photographs of herself with a dog; and she at least had a beer in one of the six available ‘pics’
I made myself a sandwich, I didn’t eat that much these days that wasn’t carbohydrated and easy; in-fact; I’d say that I needed to gain weight: I felt like I looked old and it was beginning to bother me; I could wax lyrical about the merits of ice-cream and yet; I’d gotten lazy, so very lazy, yet increasingly thin; how surreal it was to be so lazy and thin; but then again; I don’t think the booze helped in this regard; it is far easier to spent a week on beer and nuts than it is full meals with water.
I decided to take the plunge; I tackled the dishes and I messaged the girl: obviously not right away; lets be honest I wasn’t the most sensible or decent human being; I was just doing my own thing; sometimes; I felt I resembled some kind of unorganised wreck and other times; I felt that this was an insecure and again; a lazy observation of the world on my part.
We met in the bar, a little expat type hangout where the Bellinis tasted like shampoo; anywhere with an eighties soundtrack; as was always present at The Happy Monk was a winner from me: It was a perpetual studentdom that I’d fallen into as a result of my job, my lifestyle.
Tasha sits at the bar; she’s waiting and looking around nervously; I’m waiting outside; nervously; two separate states of nervousness will crash together; the nervousness that her eyes will narrow and she’ll be disappointed on my part and maybe the same feeling on her end of things; that we just won’t get on, we won’t be able to cut through the bullshit long enough to get to know each other.
The place is filling up now, she’s nearly ready to order a drink, I can tell; there’s probably some charming, taller, more organised man, ready to pounce upon her; So I’ve got to act quick, I’ve got to split up the tension, begin to make a bit of effort; there’s a businessman, sipping a pint and talking on the phone, there’s a young couple with kids(?) eating Fish N’ Chips the same color as the setting sun.
How to introduce yourself:
a) ‘Hey Tasha, Nice to meet you!’
b) ‘Hey!’ (Try not to sound gay)
c) ‘Hey! (pause for effect)…What’s cookin?’
I’ve spent about two hours trying to get my hair to look good, I’m washed, shaved even, but here I am, in the middle of a doorway; staring in, halfway punter and pedestrian; while men with large stomaches and larger appetites discuss like packs of howling dogs where to go; I decide to take a walk around the block and sort it out…
How to introduce yourself
(When you are late) ;
a) ‘Hey sorry…traffic was terrible!’ (I don’t drive and have no money for a taxi)
b) ‘Hey you are early!’
c) ‘I’m worth waiting for!’
The buildings begin to rise in prominence with the darkening sky and again, funny as it is; I’m kind of relieved when I get into the bar and she’s vanished like steam coming out of the coffee grind; it’s this horrible thing; this sense that the weight of the world is determined by your attitude, by your state of mind, rather than by anything remotely tangible; but yet; making the easy choice, to be hidden; that’s where anxiety can lead you, I take up the beer, a thought occurs to me; it’s better to pick option a, b or c than pick z.