the green man

I don’t mean a leprechaun nor the other pagan sprite and it only struck me as I was writing up about last night’s date with new man: the coincidence between his politics –  he’s a green party supporter – and the rendezvous for our date in Fitzrovia, The Green Man pub.  It was a very agreeable venue with a wide range of craft beers – I was really quite pleased I’d left the car at home.

However, I’d committed the dating faux pas that might have consigned my desirability to the bin forevermore – arriving forty minutes after our pre-arranged meeting time.  In my defence I did give him the heads up that I had errands to run beforehand and would most likely be running late.  All the same, forty minutes to keep someone waiting is not my style at all and I tried to make up for it by not taking an immediate dislike to his voice – it has the squeaky resonance one associates with Ken Livingstone and David Beckham.  To his credit he took my tardiness well and we managed to have a rather pleasant evening, helped greatly by the aforesaid pale ales.

Still, I’m not sure if there’s anything to go on from it – he lives on the other side of London and I didn’t feel that immediate attraction people call chemistry; the high-pitched timbre might have something to do with it.  I have to say, albeit regretfully – it was a bit of a waste of an evening, IPAs notwithstanding.

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