Date 7 - Evening with Everard

It’s been a busy week. Dating doesn’t quite fit as seamlessly into my life as I thought it would. The little things keep getting missed. For example, I haven’t had time to do laundry this week. Between work, dates, and volleyball, my wardrobe is running thin. And a lot of it is spread out across every available surface of my room as I continually pick up shirts and discard them as ill-fitting or hideous or lacking that certain je ne sais quoi. So I actually went on a date wearing sweatpants. 

Was it that I was just disorganized? Maybe. Disorganized, and a little exhausted. Or maybe I just chickened out.

Last night I went on the safest of safe dates with my friend Everard. Seriously, it was on par with taking a girl friend to a lacrosse game as far as comfort level goes. The date was drinks between volleyball games. Everard’s game ended at 8:00pm, and mine would not begin until 9:40pm, so why not meet up for a drink in between? Ev is calm, affable and not at all single. Still, it was good to go out and practice, right?

We met at the pub. I was very early and wasted time with a writing project. The server came over and I ordered whiskey and a glass of water. I texted Ev to ask if I could order him anything, he asked for a Radler. I am not much of a beer drinker, on account of the nausea, headache, and hives, so it is not for me to judge. But when I told the server that my date would like one, she apologized and told me they didn’t have them, but gave me a decidedly appraising look. She then told me that my girlfriend would probably like one of the other fruitier beers, like a raspberry one or something involving oranges. Was it the drink? Was it me?

A Radler?
Pretty much.

I paused for a moment of self-reflection. I was in a pub wearing volleyball gear. My makeup and sweatpants were clearly sending generally confused visual signals to the rest of the patrons. I shrugged, fair enough.

I declined from making any judgment calls. When Everard arrived, he didn’t see me immediately. I waved my ridiculous, full-hand, flailing wave at him and he beamed at me before making his way over. There was the hug. Dates seem to require lots of these. Luckily Ev is very tall, and I have hugged him before, so there was no toe stepping and relatively little panic.

He ordered a gin & tonic, which I should have seen coming. That is one of his go-to drinks, and I take peculiar pride for having introduced him to them. 

We talked about work and his recent travels, and the 40 Date Challenge. He was enthusiastic in his support of the whole thing. It seems that Everard had also been concerned that I wasn’t “out there” in the dating world.

Before

We shared some calamari and laughed as I kept knocking utensils and dropping my stuff on the floor. The downside to having my cavernous purse full of notebooks and pens and the various detritus of my life is that when you drop it, it’s pretty much a yard sale. The upside to having my purse with me this time is that I had the box full of index cards that my best friend made for me. Each index card features a question or topic of conversation, in case any of my dates is going so badly that we’ve run out of things to talk about. Though my date with Ev was not going badly, we broke into the mystery box anyway to see what there was to see.

After

When you eat Smarties, do you eat the red ones last? No, neither of us do. Ev is nondiscriminatory and I used to save the green ones for my mum (they are her favourites) and so I keep them for last, maybe hoping that she will appear to claim them. Bit of a long drive from the homestead for a small chocolaty snack, but you never know.

How long have you lived in the city? Was a good question. Lots of material there. Unfortunately we were out of time and I had to get over to the gym for my volleyball games. I hate being late.

I shouted my usual “Bye! Bye! Bye!” in a singsong voice across the parking lot and puttered away.