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.