The Twitter Date (Part 5)

Lucy is going for a third date with Al, who originally asked her out after a random Twitter exchange about beards.

(To read from the beginning, click here)

Al is not Lucy's usual type at all - he is a mechanic and lifeboat crew member with two kids who dropped out of school to join the army when he was 17.  And most shockingly of all, Al has an huge and terrifying beard that wouldn't look out of place on an 18th century philosopher or a 21st century Shoreditch hipster.  (Circle of Life, innit?)

This is the exact opposite of Lucy's normal type.  She normally goes for clean-gut, highly-educated geeky or creative types.  So the complete opposite of Al, to put it bluntly.

But Lucy's type hasn't exactly been working out all that well for her so far, and there's something about Al's calm manner with a hint of cheekiness that she rather enjoys.  In spite of the fact that on the last date he confessed to liking taxidermy and keeping a lizard as a pet.  But everyone has their weirdnesses, right?  You just have to find someone whose weird is compatible with yours.  The problem is, Lucy is not sure whether Al's is.

On the plus side, it does help that he seems to be rather taken with her.  Lucy likes being liked.  Especially by hot lifeboat heroes with taut bodies and melty chocolate-brown eyes.

So there's going to be a third date.  They agree to meet for dinner in nearby Lewes, so Lucy heads over there on the train from Brighton after work.  It's a warm day, so for her third-date outfit she's opted for a jumpsuit that always gets compliments when she wears it.  Even though she's pretty sure most people probably think she's a crazy cat lady who forgot to get dressed and has come out in her pyjamas.

The jumpsuit is from Boden.  That's because Lucy is a walking middle-class stereotype.  She wonders if Al has ever dated a Boden-wearing woman before.  Seems unlikely.  Boden is hardly the height of fashion, but Lucy's pretty sure Hastings, where Al is from, is not a Boden hotspot.   The good ladies of Hastings are unlikely to be Boden's middle-class yummy mummy target demographic.

Al may not be familiar with the brand, but he appreciates the outfit nonetheless.  "Damn, you look hot," he tells Lucy.
"You think?  You don't think I look like I'm wearing pyjamas?" she queries.

One day Lucy will learn how to take a fucking compliment. Not today though.

Al looks good too. He's wearing a slim-fit checked shirt and Superdry jeans.  A chubby guy would have nowhere to hide in that outfit, Lucy notes appreciatively.

But by a country mile the best thing about Al's date attire is the beard... which has shrunk dramatically!  It's still there, but instead of being stubbornly at the Charles Darwin end of the scale, it's now far closer to a Ryan Gosling.  Which is nice, since Lucy definitely fancies Ryan Gosling.

Even so, Lucy is slightly taken aback. This is a big change after just two dates. It's too much pressure!
"I've taken about three inches off," Al tells her.  "What do you think?"
"It's definitely an improvement. But I hope you didn't do that because of me?"
"No I wanted to do it anyway, the fact that you'd like it better was just a bonus."

But Lucy can't help suspecting he might have done it because of her.  Which makes her feel more guilty than that time she ate all the rest of the office birthday cake and then found out some people were still hoping for a second slice.   She denied all knowledge, of course.

Al leans in and gives her a brief kiss.  A third date kiss should be full of mystery and promise, but... it's awkward.

WTAF? thinks Lucy.  I'm standing in front of a hot, sweet guy who is into me, who has even removed most of his beard for me, and I'm underwhelmed. Get a grip, woman!


They walk to the restaurant and order food, a pineapple cocktail for Lucy and a beer for Al.

"You know, I think you're awesome," Al tells her.
Lucy thinks Al is super sweet.  But somehow she can't quite make eye contact.  This is the third date, she should be excited to see him, but... she just feels guilty.
"It doesn't bother you, the difference in our backgrounds?" she asks.  "You know, because I'm basically a posh princess, and you're..."
"Poor?"
"I didn't say that!" she squeaks. "I just meant, on paper we're not exactly the most obvious match."
"You've never dated a man who works with his hands before?"
"Actually, no," Lucy admits.  She looks at Al's hands.  They look slim and strong, and his nail beds are stained with engine oil. It's actually kind of sexy.
"I don't think it matters," Al says.  "It worked for Billy Joel: he fell in love with an Uptown Girl."
"You think I'm living in a white bread world?" Lucy asks.  "Actually I prefer granary."
He laughs.  "That's because granary bread is posh now.  White bread is what the plebs eat these days."
"So I'm an Uptown Girl living in a granary bread world?  Doesn't have quite the same ring."

The food arrives.  Lucy's gone for fish pie.  Al has ordered a burger, and Lucy has food envy.  She wonders if it's ok to steal a chip.

"So have you had any really bad online dates?" Al asks.
"A couple that were pretty excruciating, but mostly they've been ok, just underwhelming," Lucy says.
She tells him about Vincent, who revealed on their date that his friends often send him porn videos via WhatsApp.
"The thing is, I was really shocked by this. So I asked my friend, and he told me that guys do this all the time. Apparently it's a thing."
Al denies all knowledge of such activities.  Al is either a total sweetheart (entirely possible) or lying to try to impress her (also possible).

Lucy explains.  "Apparently the way it works is your mate sends you a video that looks innocent, so you watch it, and then after a few seconds it hard cuts to something obscene.  My friend showed me one.  It was of a car reversing.  You watch it thinking, 'what's this about then?'  Is something going to happen to the car?  And then suddenly it cut to a scene of a man fisting someone.  I really didn't need to see that!  It's burned on my retina now, I'm going to have nightmares!"
Al looks shocked.
Lucy laughs.  "I bet you didn't think you'd hear me say the word 'fisting' on our third date!"
"To be honest," says Al, "I didn't even think I'd get lucky enough to have a third date."

Conversation starts to flag.  Not a good sign.  "What are you up to tomorrow?" Al asks.
"Just work, and then I'll go for a run," she says.  Thrilling stuff.
"You know, I never do any exercise," Al reveals.
This surprises Lucy since Al doesn't appear have an ounce of fat on him.   She tells him so.
"Well I guess working on the lifeboat keeps me fit," he suggests.  "But I don't work out.  Guess I'm just lucky I'm naturally slim."

Lucy has to work out four times a week to ensure she's not the size and texture of a sofa.  Life's a bitch.

She squeezes his arm.  It's rock solid.  He offers her his thigh to try too.  Zero fat there either. Abs? Absolutely perfect.  Not even the slightest hint of a beer gut.

It's official. Al is FIT AS.  So why isn't she feeling the urge to jump on him?

He's finished his burger, so Lucy starts helping herself to his leftover chips.
"Do you mind?" she asks.
"Not at all, I think it's good," Al replies.
This may explain why Al is naturally slim and Lucy is only normal-sized because she fucking kills herself in the gym four times a week.

The conversation turns to unsolicited dick pics.  "Ever had one?" Al asks.
"Actually no. I guess something about my profile doesn't attract those sort of guys.  Not that I'm complaining."
"I can send you one if you like," he jokes.
"I'm amazed you haven't already," Lucy laughs.  "I thought it was pretty standard.  I'd just assumed the reason you hadn't is because you have a really tiny penis and you're embarrassed."
"Actually I have the opposite problem," Al says.  It's so big that it won't fit in the photograph. Even with a wide angle lens."
"Then get a selfie stick."

Always there with the helpful solutions, is Lucy. 

Lucy allows herself a moment to wonder which of the two explanations is closer to the truth.  As a girl, it's always tricky when you sleep with someone for the first time.  You never know quite what you're going to find down there, and there have been one or two occasions when Lucy has been exceedingly disappointed.

Though right now Lucy is really not sure she is that bothered about finding out with Al.
WTF is wrong with me?! she laments.  This lovely, cute guy is into me, and I'm just not feeling it. 

Lucy has a strong suspicion that she may well be one of those fuckwits who's only really interested in a guy when he's running away.  She always seems to be far keener when they're a bit distant and aloof.  Even though at the same time she finds guys who take ages to reply to messages intensely irritating.

This is one of the reasons why Lucy is probably going to die alone.

But is Lucy not feeling it because Al is too nice, or because the chemistry just isn't there? You can't force yourself to want someone just by willing it (and Lucy's pretty strong-willed, so if you could, she would have done it by now).  And while kindness is a fantastic quality, and definitely something Lucy's looking for in a man, there has to be more.

They get the bill and head back to the station.   The next train is not for another 10 minutes.  Al steers her up against a wall and kisses her.

It's a perfectly decent kiss - but Lucy's still not feeling it.  And as a beard-hater she finds the feeling of hairs tickling her top lip weird and disconcerting.  She's really not sure if she could ever get used to this.

A drunk man interrupts them.  
"Excuse me," he slurs.  "I've got kids, right...?" The man tails off.
What does he want? Lucy wonders. Is he about to get aggressive? Is he giving us grief for the PDA? We were only kissing, it really wasn't that outrageous.  And there aren't even any kids here anyway? What's his problem?

But the man isn't trying to abuse them, in fact bizarrely he's trying to offer them some advice. "Me and my missus were outside the Tate gallery..." he continues.
Lucy is confused. Is he trying to give them some cultural insights? Recommend a venue for the next date?  Impress them with his knowledge of 17th and 18th century art?

But no, it's rather more practical advice than that.  The man continues "...and we went into the toilets.  They were nice.  Not sure the toilets here are as good but..."

Lucy and Al are confused.  What's he trying to say?

"I'm saying you could go in there." 

Oh ok.... so drunk guy appears to be suggesting that Lucy and Al should go and have sex in the toilets. What a helpful chap.

Al has a glint in his eye that suggests he doesn't think it's such a bad idea. 

"I'm afraid I've got a train to catch," Lucy says, happily.
"How long have you got?" drunk guy inquires.

Lucy checks her watch.  "Four minutes."

Judging by the state of him Lucy's pretty sure he wouldn't have even managed one minute, let alone four.

She gets on the train.  Immediately, Al texts.  "Damn I like you xx."

Lucy feels sad.

(Editor's note: Lucy later told Al she thought they should just be friends.  They're planning to stay in touch and hang out while Lucy is still in Brighton.  Lucy's search for love continues...)

The Twitter Date (Part 4)

Lucy has had one date with Al, who bravely asked her out over Twitter.  If you missed it, click here to
read from the beginning.

In spite of the fact that Al sports a full-on lumberjack-style beard, and has a background that is the polar opposite of Lucy's safe middle-class upbringing, she thought he was rather sweet.  And from some of his messages it seems like a pretty safe bet that he liked her too:

"Good morning, beautiful. How are you today?"

"I had an idea for a future date, if I get lucky enough to have more with you"

"I am looking forward to date number 2, and seeing your gorgeous smile"

"I have taken a real liking to you."

Lucy doesn't understand girls who always go for men who treat them badly. To her, there is nothing more attractive than a charming guy who finds her desirable and has the confidence to say so.  In a polite, non-sleazy, non-aggressive way, of course.  Though most of the guys Lucy has come across on dating apps seem to miss this important caveat - which is why Al seems like such a rarity.

So she accepts his offer of a second date.  They agree to meet in Eastbourne and spend the afternoon messing about by the sea before going for a drink.  In other words, a whole afternoon and evening together - a terrifying commitment so early on.  Lucy makes sure to book a flexible return train ticket just in case she needs to run away in a hurry.

Al’s waiting at by the barrier as she gets off the train.  Lucy is relieved to find that he’s just as handsome and charming as she remembered.  This isn’t always the case.  Sometimes after one date and several wines, a girl can have completely reinvented a man in her head by the time she next sees him.

The only thing that she didn’t quite remember is just how alarming his beard is.  That thing should have its own postcode.  If she gets too close to it she may well start having nightmares about suffocating to death in a container full of Christmas trees.

There’s another moment of panic as she realises she is going to have to get into Al’s car. 

“I’m sure I shouldn’t be doing this,” she laughs nervously.  “Sensible girls do not get into strange men’s cars.  What would my Mum say?!”

“Admittedly, I am pretty strange,” Al jokes.  At least, she hopes he’s joking.

The car is a nice, safe Audi.  Lucy decides serial killers and rapists probably don’t drive Audis. She gets in.

They drive a short distance along the coast from Eastbourne to the pebble beach at Birling Gap.  The weather is glorious – a balmy 22 degrees with not a cloud in the sky.  A handful of people are lounging on the shoreline in swimwear, determinedly making the most of the rare British sunshine in spite of the stupid pointless stony beach and bone-chilling murky sea.  It’s not exactly the bloody Mediterranean, Lucy observes.  But I guess some Brits will take anything they can get.
She hopes Al might be one of them.  She'd like to see what he looks like with his top off. 

They begin to walk along the beach.  Lucy tries her best to look elegant and ladylike as the stupid fucking pebbles slip and slide beneath her feet.   Al is full of compliments, telling her she looks pretty and that he likes her hair.  At one point she slips and he reaches out a hand to steady her.  His is warm and reassuring, and the momentary contact makes Lucy's stomach do a little squiggle. 

"What do you think of the beard today?" he asks hopefully.
"Still don't like it, sorry."  Well there's no point in pretending.
"Even though it's shorter?"
Lucy is confused.  "It's shorter?  It looks exactly the same to me."
"Yes!" Al is outraged.  "I trimmed an inch off it!"

As far as Lucy is concerned, a beard is a beard.  It still thinks it looks like Al has a hedge glued to his face. Which is a shame, because it's a handsome face.
"For our next date I'll trim it even shorter," says Al.
Next date?  Lucy likes the man's confidence.
"Don't do that just because of me," says Lucy, hoping he will entirely ignore this last comment and do it anyway.
"It's ok," he replies.  "I was thinking of trimming it for summer anyway.  I'll just grow it back in the winter when I need to keep my face warm."
Lucy laughs.  "So that means we can have a passionate summer fling and then I'll dump you in the autumn when the beard comes back."
"Bitch!" Al teases, his warm brown eyes crinkling affectionately. 

Beyond the pebbles, the tide is far out, revealing a broad stretch of seaweed-encrusted rocks criss-crossed by channels and rock pools.  Lucy and Al step precariously from stone to stone across them, stopping occasionally to peer into the water to look for crabs.

Al's all about the serious questions today.  "What are you most afraid of?" he enquires.
"Getting old."
"Don't worry, I'll look after you," he promises. "And when you get really incapable I'll happily run you over with my truck."
Wow, what a sweetheart, she thinks, this is definitely my kind of guy.

"You're lucky," he adds, "I've come along at just the right time to prevent you from turning into a crazy cat lady."
"Oh I'd never be one of those," says Lucy.  "Crazy maybe, but not a cat lady.  Don't like pets.  Too much fur-shedding."
"You'll like my pet then," reveals Al.  "He doesn't have any fur."
"You have a pet?" Lucy asks cautiously.   "What is it?  A goldfish?"
"Actually..."  Al pauses.  " It's a bearded dragon."

Shit shit shit.  The man has a fucking pet lizard.  Just when things seemed to be going so well!  A goldfish she could have handled.  But a reptile?  A living one, and not just refashioned into a pair of shoes?

Also, what is it with this man and beards?

She hesitates. "A lizard?"
"Yes. His name's Barry."
Of course the lizard is called fucking Barry.  You can't make this shit up. 
"Um," Lucy says.  "I'm not sure about a lizard. Where does he live?"
"He's very sweet," says Al.  "He lives in a tank in my house, and I feed him live crickets."
Lucy shudders and makes a mental note never to go to Beardy McLizardface's house.

They continue to pick their way across the rocks.  Al drops another bombshell.  "Actually he's not my only pet."
Wait, what?  There's more?
"I also have a stag's head.  His name's Sebastian."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I found it by the side of the road. It's a full skull with antlers attached.  So I took it home and put it on the wall. I didn't even clean it. It's still got mud and grass on it and everything.  It's really cool."

What the fuck just happened?  This sweet, thoughtful guy has turned out to be the type of nutjob who picks up roadkill, puts it on his wall and gives it a fucking name.   Lucy would turn and run but the slippery rocks won't allow it.

"I don't get it," says Lucy.  "Why would you want to bring a dead thing into your house?"
"I think it's beautiful," says Al. " I have a stuffed boar's snout too."
Holy crap give me strength.
"A what?"
"It's not the whole head, just the snout, mounted on a plaque.  I found him in an antique shop.  I've put glasses on him so he looks really cool.  Today he's wearing opera glasses.  Last week it was 70s disco specs.  He likes it."
"He?  It's just a stuffed dead boar's nose."
"No, he has a personality.  His name is Seboarstian."
What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

So Al shares his home with Sebastian the dead deer, Seboarstian the dead pig (see what you did there, Al), and Barry the very much alive bearded dragon.  Why can't the man have a normal hobby?  Like sports?  Or video games?  Even a mild porn addiction would be better than this.

Lucy doesn't know what to do.  She still really fancies the action hero hearthrob side to Al, but could she possibly cope with a guy who is also a collector of weird and dead things?

They head for the nearest pub.  It's a typical country pub, so in keeping with the rules that all pubs seem to follow there's a taxidermied fox on the windowsill.

"Another friend for you," she points out.  

They sit at the last available table and Lucy gratefully accepts a much-needed large glass of wine.  

"I don't like it," she says.  "It's weird to stuff dead animals and keep them in your house.  Why not just bury them?"
She takes a slug of wine and looks up.  Realises they are sitting directly underneath a huge stuffed boar's head.  It's wearing a sombrero.
Lucy wishes she had ordered the entire bottle.

Two wines later, things have improved again.  Al tells her a funny story about how he and his mates were out in Hastings when they saw a drunk driver abusing his girlfriend.  After the police came and took him away, they noticed he had left his windows open, so they filled the vehicle with crisps.  When the man came back an hour later, his car was full of seagulls.
Lucy likes Al's naughty sense of humour.

Al also tells her more about being in the Army.  He was in an engineers regiment. 

"Does that meant you were behind the scenes?" Lucy asks.
"No, I was on the front line.  I was actually part of the capture of Basra when I was just 18."
Lucy is impressed.  This is a man who must have been through an awful lot.  Perhaps it's no surprise that he has one or two quirks.  

And for an army guy he is incredibly thoughtful and gentle.  Certainly not your typical boorish macho twat, all swagger and bravado and misogyny.

Al drops her back at the station.  It's time for the moment of truth.  To kiss or not to kiss, that is the question.  Or would have been, if Shakespeare had had Tinder.

In spite of the unsettling revelations Lucy has had a lovely afternoon. Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it's the wine, maybe it's Al's chocolatey eyes and earnest admiration for her - but Lucy finds herself drawn to him. 

She'd quite like a kiss but she's still not sure about the beard. Or the bearded dragon. 

On the other hand, she has had a very enjoyable day.  And Al has been extremely sweet, and very open about his attraction to her.  She'd like to give something back.  Maybe she should wait and see if he makes a move...?

But she knows he won't.  He's so gentle and nervous about getting it wrong that if she leaves it up to him he will give her a respectful peck on the cheek and Lucy will get back on the train feeling rather let down.

So at the the ticket barrier she turns to say goodbye, leans in, and kisses him briefly on the mouth.

Al is momentarily taken aback. And then he realises what's just happened and goes back in for another with confidence.

It's the first time in her entire life that Lucy has kissed a man with a beard.

This must be how a eucalyptus tree feels when it's being munched by a hungry koala.  It's soft yet scratchy, a little damp, slightly musty, but not altogether unpleasant.  And to Lucy's great relief, she doesn't get hair in her teeth.  Which was genuinely a real fucking worry.

But the train is in the platform, so the kiss is brief.  Lucy swipes through the barriers, and Al heads home to his freaky menagerie.

(To find out what happened next, click here)

Radio Ga Ga

Lucy discovers Peter on Bumble.  He has a great smile and an interesting job in radio.  Lucy is also happy to find that unlike at least half of the lazy fucks on the app, Peter has actually managed to find time in his busy and important life to write a few words about himself - and

what's more, they are all correctly spelled!  Clearly Peter is a cut above the rest.  Lucy wastes no time in arranging to meet him.

The would-be lovers meet on London's posh Chiswick High Road on a mild Saturday afternoon in March.  Lucy arrives first at the pub - which is rammed with sports fans watching a rugby game.  Oh shit, she thinks.  This'd better not be a sports date.

Peter calls. He's running late.  Lucy is actually quite impressed that he's bothered to phone rather than just text.  He's chatty, and by the time he arrives the ice has been well and truly broken.  Peter is equally horrified by the rugby fans and suggests they go to a different pub.  Good work, Peter.

In the pub conversation flows, though Peter has the manner of a car salesman, with a slightly pushy confidence that seems a bit false.  Lucy imagines that when he smiles, she'll see a sparkle flash from one of his very white teeth.  Still, he's entertaining, so Lucy has more wine. 

Peter seems quite taken with Lucy.  He repeatedly tells her she's gorgeous, and midway through the date he announces that he can't wait any longer to kiss her, and goes for it before she has a chance to react.  This has never happened before and she's rather taken aback.  Where is the nervous walk to the tube station?  What about the bit when you can't quite look the other person in the eye?  Surely you're supposed to wait to say goodbye, so you can have that are-we-aren't-we? moment where one goes for the cheek and the other goes for the lips?

Nope. None of that.  He just went for it. 

Immediately there is embarrassment.  Lucy doesn't know what to say.  Peter is mortified.  Lucy thinks that's rather sweet.  So she invites him to try again, and this time it's better, and less awkward.

Then Peter asks Lucy when he might get to have sex with her. 

For the second time, Lucy is speechless and blushes furiously.  For a 38-year-old woman she really ought to be a hell of a lot better about talking about this stuff.  But around boys she fancies and boys who fancy her she still behaves like a teenager.  

Lucy needs a slap.

The rest of the date goes well.  There is copious kissing (very good) at the bus stop, and Peter asks when he can see her again.  Lucy decides he's probably not Mr Right, but with a kissing technique like that, he can definitely be Mr Right Now.

Peter WhatsApps a few days later. 

There is silence.  Lucy wonders if Peter was texting as he crossed the road and got knocked over by a bus.

The next day, she tries again.  She needs to know if she should send a condolence card to Peter's mum.  It's two days before Peter finally replies.  But at least he's not dead.  Lucy is sure both he and his mum are pleased about that.

"Forgot to hit send"?  Lucy isn't quite sure she believes this.  Especially since he made the same excuse twice.   Bit suspicious.

She's also not at all convinced by a man who addresses her as 'hun'.  But he DOES seem keen, so she gives him the benefit of the doubt.   She tries some of her best flirting. 

Lucy is really not sure how she feels about being called 'horny'.  She's pretty sure that's not something someone else can judge about another person.  

Peter needs to go to charm school. 

The day of the date arrives, but things take a turn for the worse.

Lucy panics that Peter has gone off her because she rebuffed his clumsy flirting, and is disappointed that the date has been cancelled.  But mostly she is pissed off because she got up early and washed her hair specially and now she is all dressed up with nowhere to go.

For days there is silence.  Maybe the fever was something more serious.  Lucy googles Peter's name to see if his death has been reported.   Nothing.  So she messages him. 

It's starting to look as though the number of exclamation marks Peter uses is inversely proportional to the sincerity of his replies. 

He seems interested, but he won't be pinned down to a second date.  Lucy wonders what the fuck is with that - and whether bingeing on chocolate will help her figure it out.

Maybe the North Koreans have hacked WhatsApp and Peter genuinely isn't getting her messages.  Lucy wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, so she sends a message via the Bumble app.

Lucy is even more suspicious.   A man who claims not to know what ghosting is?  Twice.  But it's men that invented ghosting.  Lucy suspects Peter is protesting too much.   

Nevertheless, she resends her previous message, and Peter immediately responds.  

There's no reply.   Lucy has no fucking clue what the hell is going on, but even she can't keep flogging this dead horse any longer.  She pours herself a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and starts swiping for someone new. 

(To be find out what happened next, click here...)