The Twitter Date (Part 3)

It's the day of Lucy's date with Al, the 32-year-old bearded mechanic, lifeboat rescue crew member,
and father-of-two who asked Lucy out over Twitter.

To read from the start, click here.

For the first time in a long time, she's nervous about a date. This isn't your usual, run-of-the-mill online date. The man asked her out over Twitter, for Chrissake!  Without having even seen a photo!

When she walks into the pub, Al is already there, wearing a crisp blue checked shirt, jeans, and proper brown leather shoes.   Arrived first, she notes.  Tick.  Nicely dressed.  Another tick.  Tall, slim and looks just like his photo.  Three more ticks.  But then there's the beard...

The man looks like he has a poodle strapped to his chin.

"Hello," he says, nervously.  His voice is soft, with a distinct Sussex accent - a sort of country burr with dropped Ts and short vowels.  It doesn't fit with the manly action-hero image, and Lucy feels a twinge of disappointment.

"What can I get you?" he enquires politely, heading towards the bar.  Lucy hesitates.  Is this a 'two-polite-spritzers-then-leave' kind of date, or a 'sink-several-wines-and-see-what-happens' kind of date?

Lucy clocks Al's extremely cute bum and decides to go for a large white.  After all, she's come all this way.  It'd be rude not to.

They settle side by side at a nearby table and Lucy takes a gulp.  "Well this is a bit weird.  I've never had a Twitter date before."

"Me neither," says Al.  "But I thought you seemed like you had a really great personality and I was intrigued. So I thought, 'what the hell' and went for it."

Great personality, eh?  Lucy likes to think so, but it's nice when a charming man agrees. Clearly Al has excellent taste.  And she admires that he had the guts to take the risk.

"Also," he adds, "We tend to date people we find physically attractive first of all, and then hope that their personality matches up.  Which hasn't really been working out so well for me.  This time it was just the other way around - I already knew I liked your personality, so why not take a chance and see if the looks match up?  Which I'm delighted to say they do, by the way."

Smooth, Lucy thinks.  She takes another gulp of wine to hide the blushing.

"And now you've seen it in person, what do you think of the beard?"

Lucy studies the offensive item in question.  It's about three or four inches long, thick and bristly.  To be fair, it is neatly-trimmed and well-groomed, but even so, she still thinks it looks like Al has fallen face-first into a vat of wire wool.

She hesitates, not wanting to offend him.  "I've seen worse," she concedes.
"It's very soft, you know," he says, invitingly.

Lucy has never touched a beard before.  This seems very intimate for so early on in the date.  Gingerly, she reaches out and prods the bushy cushion with one finger.

It feels exactly like it looks: coarse and wiry.  Lucy frowns, "It's not all that soft. Not like head hair, anyway."
Al looks crestfallen. "Well, no, I guess not.'  He tries again.  'But it smells really nice too.  I use moisturiser."

This is getting weird.  No way is Lucy about to start sniffing Al's beard.

Al senses he's losing his argument.  He tries another tack. "I get loads of compliments, particularly from men. Guys often come up and admire it in the pub."
Lucy thinks Al might be missing the point.  "But what about women?"
"They either love it or hate it," he confesses.
Lucy doesn't completely hate the beard as much as some she's seen, but she's extremely wary of it. It's suspicious. She's not sure what it might suddenly do.

"Would you ever shave it off?" she asks, hopefully.
"I probably wouldn't ever go back to being clean-shaven, but I have thought about trimming it shorter."
So there is room for improvement.  This is good news.  Lucy reckons she could cope with a neat, short beard.  Something like a Gary Barlow or Ryan Gosling look would definitely be acceptable.

Not that she's already trying to improve Al.  Not on the first date, anyway. There'll be time for that later.

Lucy wants to find out more about Al's background.  Could they possibly have anything in common? "So how did you become a mechanic?" she enquires.

"Actually it was a bit of a long route.  First of all I dropped out of school at 17 and joined the army..."
Crikey, Lucy thinks.  A school dropout and squaddie.  Hardly the ideal match for a nicely-educated lady with a first-class honours degree from a top university.  Her mum would have kittens.

"Army? Gosh.  Did you do active service?"
"Two tours in Iraq and two in Afghanistan.  In between I also did an Open University degree in mechanical engineering, went to Sandhurst to become an officer, and rose to the rank of Captain."

Well this puts a very different colour on things.  You can definitely take an army officer home to meet the parents.  Lucy looks again at Al's broad, war-hero shoulders and warm brown eyes, crinkled at the corners from the Middle Eastern sun, and feels a confusing frisson of attraction.

"So how long were you in the Army?"
"Twelve years. Eventually I left and now I work for a breakdown assistance company."
"You must rescue loads of damsels in distress by the roadside," Lucy observes.  "Surely you don't need to be picking up strangers on Twitter?"
"Actually I rarely meet attractive women through work.  But I do get propositioned by older ladies a lot.  Just recently I had one lady in her 50s who was so pleased that I'd fixed her car that she offered me 10 minutes alone in the back of the truck."
Lucy can see why the older ladies fancy him.  At six years his senior, she might just be one of them. Even if they do appear to have almost nothing in common.

The music in the pub is suddenly turned up loud.  Al moves his chair a little closer.

"So how are you finding the dating apps?" he asks. "Lots of ghosting I suppose?"
"Of course. Happens all the time."
"Actually I've never been ghosted," he reveals.
Lucy is stunned.  What, never?!
"I think it's much more of a guy thing to do. Guys do ghosting.  Girls do crazy stalking."
"I would never do that," Lucy assures him, and makes a mental note never to reveal all the stuff she found out about him online.

Al has a theory about relationships.  "All men are dicks to a greater or lesser extent, and all women are crazy. But it's a sliding scale.  You just need to find someone at the bottom end."
"So where are you on the scale?" Lucy asks.
"Hopefully I'm at the lower end, though I'm sure I have my dickish moments too."
Lucy wonders where she falls on the crazy spectrum.  She likes to think she's pretty sane, but she knows a few of her friends would probably disagree.

"You must be a rare exception," she tells Al.  "All the guys I match with seem to be right up at the top of the scale."
"That's because you are going for the wrong guys.  Guys who are in their late 30s or 40s, who have never been married and don't have kids, are like that for a reason.  They're arseholes.  You need to go for the divorced ones with kids."

This is actually something Lucy has known for a while - but has been avoiding admitting to herself because dating a dad would mean having to deal with Other People's Children.  And Lucy makes it a rule to avoid the little shits as much as possible.

"I don't get it, she complains. "Surely there must be some nice, baggage-free guys still out there?  I know loads of gorgeous, successful women in their late 30s who have never been married and don't have kids, and they're not dicks.  Why are all the guys such arseholes?"
"That's cos they're men," Al shrugs. "So they're on the dick scale.  Your female friends are probably just a bit crazy instead."

Lucy hates to admit it, but Al is making perfect sense.  He seems to have a very wise head on his young shoulders.  But the conversation is quite serious and not really as flirty as she would have liked.

They stay until gone 11 pm and it's time to for Lucy to get the train back to Brighton.  Al offers to walk her the short distance back to the station.

Lucy gets her coat.  What now? she wonders. She's conflicted.  Al is totally unsuitable for her: they have nothing in common.  But with his mature, calm, gentle manner, warm brown eyes, and tall, muscular body, she's finding him rather sexy.  And after two large glasses of wine she would even possibly be up for a kiss... it weren't for that beard.

But Lucy's just not ready to get up close and personal with that much facial hair quite yet.  She imagines kissing Al would be a little bit like being molested by an amorous badger.

So as soon as they arrive at the station she gives him a quick hug, turns, and swipes through the barrier before he has a chance to stop her.

On the train, she suddenly realises they never paid the bar tab.   Lucy is mortified and texts a profuse apology for leaving him to pick up the bill.

His reply comes back swiftly.

"I had a great evening. I would love to see you again and I wanted to pay xx"

(To find out what happened next, click here)

The Twitter Date (Part 2)

Lucy has been chatting with a guy on Twitter.  If you missed it, you can read the story so far here.

Al is a 32-year old mechanic and lifeboat crew member, and unlike so many of the twats and weirdos out there, actually seems like he might be moderately sane and normal.

Sadly, as always, there's a catch.  While Al may seem like a nice enough guy, he has a fatal flaw: his apparently good looks are almost entirely obliterated by an obscene amount of facial hair.

And beards, as any sensible girl will tell you, are fucking gross.

Normally Lucy would take one look at a bearded man and briskly cross the street to avoid him. But there's something about Al that has picqued her interest.  For one thing, he's has been publicly flirting with her in 140 characters or fewer, and it turns out that in spite of the obvious stupidity in growing a beard, he's actually pretty sparky.  For another, he's an ex-army hardman turned lifeboat rescue hero, so he's got at least twelve thousand sexiness points right there.

But so far it's just been a bit of banter - and clearly that's the way it's going to stay.  Idle online flirting, a bit of fun, nothing more.  Nice guys don't go round asking random girls out via Twitter - particularly not when they haven't even seen a photo.  That's just not how it's done.

But then Lucy receives an extremely surprising private message.

Lucy is flabbergasted.  A man who knows almost nothing about her, and who has no idea what she looks like, wants to meet her.

That's just fucking weird.  Al is clearly a psycho.

Of course, there is a chance that Al has read all of Lucy's adventures online. If that's the case, he's probably just come to the conclusion that she's sufficiently sad and desperate for him to be able to get a shag out of her if he plays his cards right.

In other words, a pretty normal guy.

On the other hand, there's no way he can have read the stories. If he had, he would never have approached her.  The revelations about her sex life (or lack thereof) and her neurotic thought-processes would definitely have put him off.

Lucy needs more information.

So he claims not to have read Lucy's ramblings.  In that case what is wrong with him?  Is he desperate?  A fuckboy just looking for somewhere to put his dick?  A scam artist who is going to try to steal all her money?

Of course it is just possible that Lucy has managed to win Al over simply by the power of her wit and personality.  It's happened before, with Steve.  But it that really likely?

On the balance of probability it seems far more feasible that Al is a serial killer.

Al assures her he's not a hipster.  He tells Lucy that he is 6 feet tall, and has tattoos to go with the beard. He also has two kids.

A bearded and tattooed mechanic and dad, who is 6 years younger than her, is a huge departure from the clean-cut, highly educated, geeky, slightly older types Lucy always goes for.

But at least he can spell. That would have been bigger deal-breaker than the beard.

And it's not like Lucy's normal type has been working out so well for her.  She wonders if maybe it's time to take a risk.

Lucy is finding herself rather attracted to Al.  He just seems, well, like a Good Guy.  And Lucy has met so many arseholes through online dating that Al's no-bullshit decency seems to shine off the page. She starts looking forward to getting messages from him and checks her phone every half hour to see if he's replied.

He seems genuinely interested in her for her personality alone.  He had the sparkiness to ask her out, knowing almost nothing about her, and he still hasn't asked to see a photo.  Lucy is impressed.

She wonders how many dates they have to have before she can ask him to shave off the beard.

But while Al seems like a nice guy, Lucy wonders if she could really have a relationship with him.

Does it matter that he's a mechanic and not a lawyer or a doctor?  Will he pour scorn on Lucy's sheltered middle-class upbringing?  Does it matter that he probably doesn't shop in Waitrose?  That his toaster probably doesn't have a bagel setting?  That he almost certainly won't know the difference between ricotta and mascarpone?  Will he sympathise when her cleaner fails to show up, or when she buys 'perfectly ripe' avocados that turn out to be rock solid?

And most importantly, could Lucy ever bring herself to kiss a beard?

Lucy's certain that 10 years ago her mum (who is exactly like the mum from Bridget Jones) would have been visibly disappointed if she brought home someone who didn't have at least one degree from a top university.  But now Lucy's mum is so desperate for her spinster daughter to settle down that she'll be delighted with just about any man who's willing to take Lucy off the shelf.

Even, probably, one who's a serial killer.  As long as Lucy can manage to squeeze out a grandchild first before she gets hacked to pieces.

So Lucy accepts.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  And if it turns out badly, at least she'll have a good story.

Assuming her body hasn't been dumped in the sea by that point.

They agree to meet at a pub near the train station in Lewes, which is a compromise between where Al lives in Hastings and Lucy's base in Brighton.

But Al still hasn't asked to see a photo.  Lucy's not sure what to make of this.  She reckons he must want to see one but is too afraid or polite to ask.  So for her own amusement she decides to troll him, and asks if he would like her to send one.

Unsurprisingly, his response is enthusiastic.

So Lucy does exactly as promised and sends him a photo of herself.

His response comes back right away.

The reply makes her chuckle.  Ok, so Al is not a total dickhead.  Which is nice.

Lucy rewards him by sending him what he's really after - a proper photo that shows what she looks like.

Apart from anything else, she does it as a favour to any random girls who might be sitting on their own in the pub. She doesn't want them to get accosted by a weirdy beardy stranger claiming to be looking for 'Lucy'.

Al is delighted with the photo.

As she boards the train, she's nervous.  Lucy is not normally nervous before online dates (she's been on far too many to care any more), but this will be her first ever Twitter date, and her first ever date with a beard.

Lucy wonders if she will find the beard off-putting.  She may not be able to stop staring at it.  Will she find it repulsive up close?

And if the date goes well, will she have to kiss it?  She wonders what that would be like. Probably like nuzzling a hessian sack.  Seriously, WTF is up with all those women who like beards?

Still, there's only one way to find out. The train pulls in to Lewes station, and Lucy gets off.

(To find out what happened next, click here)

The Online Dating Virgin (Part 2)

Lucy has a date with Daniel, who does the same job as her.  Lucy likes Daniel because in his photos he looks like David Tennant.  Not that Lucy is shallow or anything. 

Daniel is divorced, and this is his first ever online date.  Lucy's determined to be so impressively witty and gorgeous that this will be not only Daniel's first internet date, but also his last.

She arrives at the bar moments before Daniel, and is still scanning the room to see if he's there when he walks in, wearing jeans and a pale blue shirt.

She does the instant, 2-second judge.  Looks like his photos?  Thankfully, yes.  Does he look like David Tennant?  Not so much, but still handsome.  Height?  As predicted, short, no more than an inch taller than her.  Does she fancy him?  Not on first sight, no.

They order cocktails and squeeze onto bar stools at a corner table.  Lucy's stool is wedged tightly between the table and the wall.  Good thing I'm not chubby, she thinks.  A fat girl'd never fit in here.

Daniel is chatty, and shoots questions at her like it's the quick fire round of a gameshow.  Lucy would like to ask one back, but doesn't seem to get the chance.  Still, at least there are no awkward silences.  Lucy always feels the need to fill silences and invariably ends up saying something stupid.

Daniel fills her in on his weekend.  He went to a stag do.

"I had to arrange it all," he tells her.  "I always seem to end up being the one in charge because I'm really organised."

Lucy, who alphabetises her DVDs and colour codes her knicker drawer, thinks she might be in love. In spite of his height.

"I haven't been on a hen do in ages because all my friends are already married," she tells him.  "Though I guess they'll be moving on to the divorces soon, and then we'll be on to round two."

Daniel looks uncomfortable.  Shit, she forgot he's divorced.

To lighten the mood, she tells him about the last hen party she went to.  "It was in someone's flat," she recounts.  "There was a stripper.  It was pretty awkward.  I've never seen a real, full-on stripper before."
"Did you see an erect penis?" Daniel asks.

Lucy is quite shocked that they are only 15 minutes into the date and Daniel has already said the word 'penis'.

She tells him the penis in question was not erect.  But it was pretty big and the stripper did swing it around and grind up against the bride.
Daniel looks concerned.  Lucy hopes he doesn't think she's into that sort of thing.

Now the subject has moved onto penises, it's hard to talk about anything else.

"Once, at a house party, a stranger touched my cock," he tells her.
"How does that happen?" Lucy queries.
"I was staying in the house with an ex-girlfriend. During the party we went back to our room to have sex. We were getting down to business when this random guy walked in and put his hand on my cock.  I think he wanted to join in."

Lucy wonders if this is Daniel's way of suggesting a threesome.  Just in case he's about to get any ideas, she tells him she's never had one and has no intention of trying.

"But I have been in the room when other people have been having sex," she adds.  Doesn't want Daniel to think she's a prude.

He looks intrigued.

"It was in a youth hostel in Colombia.  I was in a shared dorm and a couple started having sex in the middle of the night.  I had to listen to the whole thing."

Nice to get Colombia in, she thinks. Now he knows I'm adventurous and well-travelled.  But also not a pervert.

The date seems to be going well. They've had three cocktails.  Daniel suggests going to get some food, so they head for a Japanese place round the corner.

As they walk in, a waiter passes with some delicious-looking meat skewers.

"Yum," says Lucy.
Daniel drops a bombshell. "I'm a vegetarian," he confesses.
Lucy wants to cry.

They order boring vegetarian food, and wine.  Daniel offers to pay for the meal.
Too bloody right, thinks Lucy.  Forcing me to eat cardboard.
If we have a second date, she wonders, next time can I force him to eat meat?  Seems only fair.

Outside the restaurant, they say goodbye.  In spite of the vegetarian bombshell Daniel has been good company and Lucy has had a good time.
"Look, it's 11 pm," she points out. "That never happens."
"Why," he asks.  "What time do you normally stay out till?"
"I try to stay for 2 drinks out of politeness.  But a couple of times it's been so bad I've left after just one."

Lucy hopes Daniel realises how lucky he's been to meet her on his first ever online date.
"It's not going to get better than this for him," she thinks. "He's going to get a nasty shock when he carries on and finds out what Tinder girls are really like.
Lucy feels sad for Daniel, what with all the twattish behaviour he's got coming his way.

Daniel tells her he would like to see her again.  She wonders if he will try to kiss her.
But he doesn't.
Lucy is disappointed.   Just because she doesn't fancy him all that much doesn't mean a snog wouldn't have been nice.

(To be continued...?)

UPDATE: It wasn't.  Lucy didn't hear from Daniel for 10 days after the date, and eventually she messaged him.  They arranged to meet again, but the day before the second date Daniel cancelled, blaming work commitments. They haven't communicated since.  Lucy is fully expecting to bump into him again at some point through work... which could be awkward...

The Online Dating Virgin (Part 1)

Lucy has matched with Daniel.  Daniel is 45, has brown hair, and looks a bit like David Tennant.  Lucy is deliriously in love with David Tennant.  She even took up watching Doctor Who, and sat through dozens of ridiculous episodes, because of him.  (So she was bloody relieved when he quit.)

David Tennant is 6 feet tall.  Daniel doesn't give his height in his profile.  Lucy examines his photos to try to work out if that means he's short.  In general, tall guys always boast about their height, but short guys try to hide it for as long as possible, so Daniel is probably short.  This is disappointing. 

In one of the photos, Daniel is lying in the road.  Behind him is a bicycle.  Lucy tries to analyse the relative sizes of the bike and Daniel to try to work out roughly how tall he is.  How long is the bicycle?  How far away is it from Daniel?  What effect does the perspective have on their relative sizes in the photo?  Why is he lying in the road anyway?

She gives up.

It turns out Daniel works in the same industry as Lucy.  He even worked at the company she's currently based at until just a few weeks ago, and knows many of the people who still work there.

Lucy is delighted.  Maybe Daniel could be The One (despite probably being short).  They missed each other by a couple of weeks, but maybe fate just needed a little helping hand in the form of a dating app to bring them together.  She wonders if ballet flats would go with a wedding dress.

Then Lucy remembers that in 14 years, she has never met a decent, straight, single man working in her (female-dominated) industry.  All the men are either married, gay, or arseholes.  So if David is single, what is wrong with him?

The quickest way to find out, she reasons, is simply to ask him.

Ah. Divorced with kids.

Lucy is not sure about dating a man who already has kids.  On the one hand it means it's likely he won't want any more, which is fine by her.  Lucy enjoys sleep, freedom, travel and disposable income far too much to give it all up.  Especially not to become a slave to some tiny psychotic dictator.

But on the other hand a man who has kids will always have other priorities.  And dating a dad would mean she would have to pretend to like Other People's Children.

As everyone knows, Other People's Children are, without exception, little shits.  Lucy tries to avoid Other People's Children wherever possible.

Then she remembers Daniel looks like David Tennant, so she decides to give him a chance.

Lucy turns to the company intranet to see if Daniel is still listed there.  This is not stalking.  This is research.  Research is allowed - and in fact is even advisable.  A sensible girl will always check out her date online if she can, she reasons.  Just in case he turns out to be a convicted criminal.  Or a vegetarian.

There are five Daniels in the company phone directory.  Lucy googles all of them but nothing of interest comes up, except that one of them shares his name with a top rugby player.  Either that, or the top rugby player has quit sports and is now working in HR for Lucy's company.   She makes a mental note to check out the boys in HR next time she visits the second floor.

Lucy and Daniel agree to meet for cocktails after work.  He reveals that he has only recently joined the online dating world and this will be his first actual date.

Lucy is going to pop Daniel's online dating cherry.

This could be a problem, she thinks.  Online dating is like house hunting.  You need to experience a few rubbish ones, a few that have been mis-advertised, one or two that are falling-apart and smell weird, before you can appreciate the good ones.  If you see the perfect house on your first viewing, you won't recognise it.

Lucy is not a mouldy and cramped ex-council flat described by a cocky estate agent as 'a stylish and spacious city dwelling with opportunity for redevelopment'.  She's a gorgeous (and yet reasonably priced) Victorian conversion with high ceilings and outside space.  Daniel has hit the jackpot on his first roll of the dice.

But if he's never been ghosted, or stood up, or had to sit through one excruciating hour with someone weird or boring, how will he know that he's struck gold with Lucy?

Daniel has peaked too early.  All Lucy can do is hope that he's sensible enough to recognise a good thing when he sees it.

Lucy is determined to make this the best date ever and be Daniel's first - and last - internet date.  But if that fails, then at the very least she plans to set the bar high.  This date will be the gold standard for all that follow.  In 20 years time, Daniel will still remember the girl who popped his internet dating cherry and wish he hadn't let her go.

She selects just the right outfit - a casual dress that says "I'm feminine and have great legs but I haven't actually made all that much of an effort".  Flat shoes in case he's short.  She even plucks the stray hairs out of her chin and upper lip.  And heads out to meet him...

(To be find out what happened, click here)