Why on earth would I be sitting here on a Saturday night writing a blog? Could it be something to do with my date going wrong. Correct.
It started off well. Last two times F. was late, just a bit, but it doesn't feel good waiting around for someone and I don't know whether they will turn up and waiting in a strange underground station.
This time I decided I'd be late. I texted him and said I'm running late will be there half an hour later than arranged. That was OK. Going around the gallery was sort of interesting. We saw the Velasquez exhibition at the National Gallery. I joked with him that this time he didn't need one of those headphone guides as he had me. He lasted 10 minutes and ran for the guide.
Those guides are quite extraordinary. We complain on the tube and the bus about people who have their iPods on too loud. Yet here we were in an art gallery trying to concentrate, every one of us. And all over the place you could hear the cheep cheep cheep of those guides and linking music. What a racket!
I tried to talk to F. about some of the paintings, stuff they didn't put in the guides. But he really did not understand. I pride myself in communicating arty things to non arty people. But I gave up on F.
Not to worry. My turn for lunch. We ate at the gallery and had a lovely meal. I asked him all about his teenage years and 20's and felt some kind of connection with him hearing some of the stuff he talked about. How he opened up. Stuff he's never talked to anyone about before. Then we went off for a nice walk and I promised him I'd find a way to cheer him up. It poured with rain, so romantic walking over the Thames, big Ben and the houses of Parliament against a black sky with the sun on the river and a rainbow behind us.
We stopped off in a cafe on the south bank, soaking wet. Had some wine. Then I engaged him in a conversation about quantum physics. Not that I know much about it, but I'm curious about the non-existence of things we've taken for granted. He's a physicist. Great discussion. Going well.
He wanted to come back to my place. Didn't take long to say yes. But I don't know what it is. It's like trying to mate with a stone again. And after it was the same thing. Quick shower while I was downstairs making a bit of dinner (home made soup). He didn't want to eat and couldn't get out of the house fast enough (9pm). He's so all over me and romantic and when it comes down to it, there's nothing there.
I dunno. I'm not going to contact him first this time. See what happens. Next time (if there is a next time) there's no going back to my place.
