Okay, so what’s next? Mowing the lawn? More than likely – although a bit tricky given that I’ve only got a window box. Or maybe it’ll be an impromptu visit to B&Q? Again, a bit of a stretch as I struggle to change a lightbulb let alone put up a shelf. Or perhaps I’ll end up ordering a hostess trolley from one of those catalogues that gets pushed through the letterbox? Hmm, actually, that last one might just have legs…
Anyhow, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before I end up partaking in these sorts of partnered-up practices. After all, I took my first step on that slippery slope towards middle-aged coupledom at the weekend. Monsieur P and I opened up – *dry wretches into bin* – a joint account.
I guess it was inevitable. We moved in together at the beginning of the month and so this was the next logical step. First comes co-habiting. Second comes co-finances. And then, before you know it, you’ve become co-dependent and start getting up before 9am on a Sunday so as not to ‘waste the day’. Somehow, moving in with someone sets off a chain of events that sees you changing into, well, your parents.
Given this unwelcome metamorphosis, it’s easy to start reminiscing about your time as a young, flirty singleton when the key drivers in your life were downing vodkas, hitting the dancefloor and pulling that hottie in the corner.
But I think it’s easy to view those halcyon days through rose-tinted glasses. Pulling that hottie in the corner increasingly became a sticking point for me. I wanted depth. I wanted emotional attachment. I wanted a hostess trolley, god damn it!
And so, in 2012, I went on a dating spree to find Mr Right which had more downs than ups, truth be told. But some good came out of it – my diary of hook-ups, rendezvous and meetings that I call ‘Exasperdating’. Here’s the second instalment…
Exasperdating | Telly Tw*t
Job: TV director
I was really excited about this date. Reason being, this guy was hot. Flame-grilled HOT. With extra ketchup and a side of fries. And he didn’t disappoint in reality. To look at, he was my happy meal from heaven. So there’s a but coming, right? Wrong. Everything was going well – incredibly well. I mean, it’s not often I find someone I can talk to about my obsession with ThunderCats but he totally got it – he even remembered Snarf.
So, it was all ticking along nicely until I probed him about his job. He worked in telly. Now, I’ve dated telly people in the past and encountered some walking egos who buy into their own hype. And the way this guy went on about his work, you’d think he was bequeathing the nation a cultural nugget a la Shakespeare. I wouldn’t mind but his CV was loaded with mind-numbing daytime googlebox fodder.
The real turning point, though, was when he mentioned what he was currently working on – a Channel Four comedy-come-politics show. I said, ‘Oh, one of my friends works on that.’ ‘Really?’, he replied. Transpired my friend was actually his commissioning editor. And that perhaps explains why, when I came back from the loo, he flustered, ‘Sorry, I’ve gotta shoot off now’.
In retrospect, it was probably a good thing, because when I asked him where he was going, he said he had to go and have passport pics taken for his ‘media private members’ club’ application form. Tw*t.
- Exasperdating | Giraffe Man (monsieurtorres.wordpress.com)
- ‘You will be Ex-asp-er-dated!’ (monsieurtorres.wordpress.com)
- Zone 2, Frogs & ‘Exasperdating’ (monsieurtorres.wordpress.com)
- Exasperdating No.3 (monsieurtorres.wordpress.com)
- Heatwaves, Bomb Shelters & More Exasperdating (monsieurtorres.wordpress.com)