Page 7 of What Happens in Dubai
I stared at him heatedly, unsure if this was yet another bad joke or not.
‘They’re Doc Martens; I believe that they are actually fashionable for people who were born in this century,’ I snapped back.
‘Waha! Yes, brilliant.’ He began clapping his hands loudly at the table. ‘I like how we can laugh together already, Zara. Absolutely brilliant patter.’ He was laughing so hard at his own gag, while I still felt mildly offended by his dig at my outfit. I didn’t put much into it but still, I looked better than his Jodie Marsh-inspired ensemble, I thought.
The waitress came over to take our order and I was pleased to finally have some alcohol en route to settle my nerves.
‘So, tell me about you, Zara,’ William asked.
‘Well, I work in an aesthetics clinic just round the corner actually, and—’
‘Right, be honest. Do you think I need some work done?’ he interrupted.
‘Oh, of course not,’ I said politely.But some Just For Men wouldn’t go amiss, pal, I thought. He winked across the table, liking my courteous reply.
‘So, you’re a boxing coach? That sounds like good fun, eh.’
‘Well, I was – gave it up about five years ago now. Was getting too old!’ he chuckled. ‘I mainly work for the council now.’
What as?I thought.A fucking lollipop man!I felt completely deceived. Not only was my date using five-year-old pictures, but he was also tricking women into thinking he was still some big-shot boxer just to make him appear more eligible. I wasn’t even sure if I felt angry or pitied him as he continued to reminisce about his boxing days and the numerous black eyes he’d encountered over the years.
While William chatted, I couldn’t help examining his face. Yes, his hair dramatically aged him, but he was handsome. He had the brightest green eyes, tanned skin and a strong build. Did he really feel like he couldn’t be his true self when creating that profile? I’m sure if he was honest and more realistic with his matches, he’d be a real catch for an older woman, who was more willing to listen to some dodgy patter and a few bad dad jokes.
Our food and drinks arrived, and I felt some relief as I had something on the table to distract me from William’s conversation.
I began slicing into my perfectly cooked steak and slurping on my cold gin cocktail.
‘So, do you go on many dates?’ he asked.
‘Hmm … not too many. I work a lot so I don’t have much time. What about you?’ I had learned from the months of dating that men seem to make unfair assumptions about women who serial date like myself; it seemed far easier to tell a little white lie in these situations.
‘God, no. My wife and I split last year and this is the second time I’ve been out the house. I don’t like rushing into anything, and I really feel like there has to be a spark there before any sort of physical intimacy takes place.’
I was nodding in agreement, still chewing my sirloin.What a pussy! Still, at least there won’t be an awkward convo at the end of the night full of rejection.
‘Yeah, absolutely. I’m the same, although I’m not sure what I’m looking for. My work life is so full on. I obviously have Dubai and things coming up now and who knows where that will lead?’ I said, attempting to plant the seed of letting him down gently.
‘Great. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Another drink?’ he asked.
I shrugged. ‘Emm … OK, why not?’
The night was flying by. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol content rising in my bloodstream or the fact that I knew William didn’t like to have sex on the first date that relaxed my nerves a bit, but I started to enjoy his company. He was fairly funny, despite some cringeworthy jokes which at times I didn’t know how to take. But still, I could tell he was a nice man. I didn’t feel like we were flirtatious, just enjoying each other’s banter, and when he offered to pay the bill, I was grateful for a good night.
‘Right, after you, Zara.’
We were heading out of the restaurant and I couldn’t help feeling relieved when he tossed his jacket on, concealing that horrendous waistcoat.
‘Thanks for dinner, William. I had such a lovely time.’
As soon as I hit the cold, frosty air, my head began to get the gin spin and I clumsily bumped right into my date. My hands gripped both his arms as he broke my stumble.
‘Oh sorry,’ I giggled, feeling uncomfortably close to him.
We were facing one another head-on and all I could feel was warm breath hit my face.Salmon breath. I broke away from his lingering stare and began to stroll merrily towards the stone archway of Royal Exchange Square to head home.
‘Zara, hold up. I’ll walk you home,’ he called out, following me.
‘No, don’t be silly. I’m only down the street. I’ll text you,’ I insisted.
