My So-called Sex Life
Number 1: Never Stop Trying.
"Oh, hi there. Didn't notice you there. How's it doing? Going!"
"Oh, hello. Not too bad, thanks."
"Good. Great, yeah, thanks...really good. How are you?"
"Oh, you know...work."
"Shocking. Shouldn't be allowed."
"No."
That's a bit of a tail-off, I reflect, so now's the time to turn slightly towards the bar to indicate that even if I'm showing a bit of a friendly interest in this girl, I'm actually here to buy a drink, and our conversation is just passing the time until I attract the barman's attention. Actually he's been standing there waiting to take my order since the beginning of the conversation, because the bar's virtually empty.
"Pint of Old Barton, please."
I wait nonchalantly at the bar as she orders a disappointingly austere can of coke. I'm looking round for someone to recognise and nod at, but there are just a couple of fourth-years sitting in the corner debating which consultancy's internship offers the best career prospects. "I wouldn't touch anything that doesn't guarantee £850,000 within the first two years," avers one. "And if you're not going to offer me a chauffeured limo, a flat in Chelsea, and a team of huskies, you can forget it."
Eventually the pint is poured; the aforementioned girl is now engaged in a conversation with her friend whose name I can never remember. I fiddle with my phone for an improbably long time, then just as I catch sight of her moving away from the bar I finish writing the fake text message (which is convincing, given that we're in an underground bar more likely to have a stray penguin than a phone with any reception) and sidle up to her.
"So, erm...working, eh?"
"Yep. I'm going to try and get this essay finished now."
"Oh right. Actually, er...would you like to go out for dinner sometime this week?"
And that's the cue for the compassionate smile. I've never understood that. Why does a girl take pity on someone who shows a bit of interest in her? Surely it's a bit self-denigrating to suggest that the guy who chooses to ask you out is a bit of a loser. Anyway, she's hesitating. I can see I'm going to have to come up with something a bit more persuasive.
"While you deliberate the best way to say no, can I just point out that I'm quite funny. And interesting. I'm not always a stammering wreck. Only in every conversation I've ever had with you. If we went out for dinner I'd be more relaxed. You might even find me entertaining."
Ah, I can see her thinking, the merest hint of a spark of conversation.
"And what else?"
"I have the worst sense of direction in the world."
From looking vaguely amused, possibly even interested, a few seconds ago, she's now regarding me with an expression of confusion. And of course disdain.
"I didn't want you to think I was too cocky," I add lamely. "And anyway, it's true. Ask anyone who's been in a car with me. I'm also an absolutely appalling driver. People ask to be let out so they can take the bus." This isn't actually much of an exaggeration, but I feel I've got a little off-topic.
"OK." Incredible! "When hell freezes over." Ah.
"So Wednesday it is, then."
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean, I assume you mean those reports. About Hell cooling down. Could all have been avoided if they'd switched to renewable energy sources. Satan's looking for a place in Reading - said he'd feel at home there. So do you like Tapas? I'll book for 8 o'clock. Pick you up at a quarter to."
With a smile and a shake of the head that seems to suggest mild disbelief at her own folly, she rolls her eyes and says she'll see me then...
15th Jan 2004