A Story By Lorraine Weightman.
He wasn’t at all what I was expecting, his photograph on the dating site had looked very different.
Still, I was here now, so I may as well give it a go, I thought. But how anyone can make such a basic mistake when recording their height is beyond me. I’m sure I read 5’ 11” on his page and I’m 5’ 4”, but when he stood up to greet me he barely reached my armpit. He’d obviously taken his glasses off for the photograph – as we all do – and those so called hazel eyes were now magnified and the colour of dirty dish water.
Determined to make the best of it, I asked him how he’d travelled to the restaurant. The fact he was wearing lycra cycling shorts that were two sizes too small and left nothing to the imagination did give me the merest hint. If only he hadn’t teamed them with long black socks, light brown Velcro fastening sandals; then topped the lot with a lime green hoodie with a picture of Anne Widdecombe on the front!
After we ordered our drinks, it was time to settle down and look at the menu. To be fair I couldn’t concentrate as he’d started blowing bubbles into his pint of snakebite and it was putting me right off my tequila!
I quickly checked my watch and to my dismay noted that only ten minutes had passed by. It was going to be a long night!
Still, the food would be here soon. I’d played it safe and decided on sea bass and salad, yet when I returned from the Ladies room he declared he’d changed his order, opting for something from the specials board.
So, when his teriyaki rack of ribs with an extra portion of cheesy chunky chips arrived, alongside a garlic and black pudding stack with peppercorn sauce, I knew it was going to be messy!
As he dived in, I made another trip to the powder room where I made my emergency phone call to my friend, hoping she would ring me back and feign some exotic illness, so I would be forced to leave and make my escape as the caring mate to the rescue. Of course, she didn’t pick up, so with gritted teeth I made my way back to the table, just in time to watch him picking bits of pork gristle out of his teeth.
This was the last straw and definitely the one that broke the camel’s back. I couldn’t take another minute.
‘Look Ralph …’
I steadied my voice, hoping to let him down slowly.
‘I’m not Ralph, my name’s George’,
‘And if you don’t mind me saying, you look nothing like you do on your photographs’, he snapped.
The full reality of the situation began unfolding. I looked across to the next table, and there he was; my handsome, tall Ralph with his beautiful hazel eyes staring across the table, at a little lady, who was the spitting double of Anne Widdecombe!
‘I think he’s yours!’
I smiled at little Anne, and her eyes lit up with anticipation when George beckoned her over.
Ralph and I exchanged knowing winks and made our way back into the bar!
‘Fancy a drink Lorraine?’
I nodded enthusiastically.
Ralph caught the barman’s attention,
‘Two tequilas please, and leave the bottle!’
Things have a way of working out, I thought, as I raised my glass.
Cheers!
