The Undateable Gay gets a second and third date…
Well. After my speed dating success, I was floating on the clouds. I couldn’t believe it was third time lucky with my date. I’m so excited about him. Let me introduce you to him.
Meet Paul, a 32-year-old funeral director from Windsor. Such a handsome chap with bright blue eyes. Oh my days, those eyes. Excuse the cheesy analogy but I could have gone swimming in his old pork pies.
I must confess, I was a little concerned by his chosen vocation. I’ve always imagined funeral directors to be big burly blokes who look like they could be extras in the Terminator films. And I’ve always pictured them to be rather dull and a possible necrophile.
I can see me getting lynched in the street now by a mob of co-operative funeral care workers. Please excuse my judgemental attitude. I must constantly remind myself of my Christian upbringing. My Sunday school teachers clearly made an impact on me.
Now for some reason, I was feeling rather nervous of a second date with Paul. I felt a fluttering of butterflies deep in my gut. For once, I’m imagining that I might have actually met a man who may be around longer than just for a cup of coffee, the morning after. So I wanted to make a good impression.
My dear friend Natalie suggested that we make up a foursome with her then-girlfriend, Britney. No, not Britney Spears but she did have the similarity in that she was also American. But that’s where the similarities ended.
We opted for a lovely little Italian restaurant in Windsor, the name of which escapes me. My memory is not what it once was.
After all the pleasantries were out of the way, we sat down and the conversation flowed like the Thames at high tide. I could see Paul had a glisten in his eye whenever we looked at each other. Well, I hope that’s what it was and not the reflection of the candle in his pupil. The somersaults my stomach were doing would have been worthy of a gold medal in the Olympics.
As the waiter came to take our order, Paul suggested we share a garlic bread as a starter. Anyone who knows me well, will know I do NOT share food. Under any circumstance.
The mere suggestion of sharing a garlic bread made my eyebrows raise. Yes, they actually raised. I was still a week away from my botox top-up appointment at the time.
Natalie knowing my sheer greed gaged my reaction and kicked me under the table. And gave me one of her death stares. She’s a teacher so she has this look perfected. I gulped and begrudgingly agreed to share a starter. You may be sat there reading this, calling me a fat bastard. But I love my food and I want it all to myself. Maybe this is another thing I’m doing wrong that’s contributing to my undateable status.
A few more Italian Pinots later and Natalie started interrogating my poor date.
“Would you like children one day? Because Mark would.”
I nearly dropped my glass of Pinot. Of course, being such an alcoholic, I managed to grip it tight enough to ensure this didn’t happen. Bit forward for a second date question, I thought to myself but at least it wasn’t me who posed the question.
“I already have children.” Paul immediately replied.
Just at that precise moment, I was taking a gulp of Pinot and to say I spat it out and nearly choked on it would not be a dramatization.
“You’ve got children? Plural?” I asked.
“Yes”, he seemed perfectly happy to talk about it and I did my best to pretend the subject hadn’t shocked me.
“Oh my god. Boy or girl?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. I’d never met a gay man with a child.
“I have three sons.”
Well, you could have heard a pin drop in that restaurant. No one said a word.
As my dear mum always tells her friends, I’ve never been speechless since the day she sent me to speech therapy when I was four. But I was certainly speechless now.
Whilst we’re on the subject of my mum sending me to speech therapy. Yes, I understand people may find it hard to believe but I hadn’t actually started talking and being as though I was four years old, she started to worry. Hence why she marched me to speech therapy. But ever since that day, my mum always says she regretted sending me.
But I’m digressing as usual. Back to the bombshell that had just been dropped in the Italian restaurant. As my friends will tell you, I don’t handle myself in the best manner during serious situations. I have what you might call a nervous laugh. And God strike me down, this is how I reacted to this situation.
Natalie, having a tad more decorum than me, kicked me under the table to indicate this was not an appropriate moment to activate my nervous laugh. As if I have control over it…
“Why are you kicking me?” I barked at Natalie, not immediately clocking on to why she had booted me with her size 5 Doc Martens.
Finally processing the information, I could see this was a brave bit of information to reveal so early on in our dating period. I grabbed his hand.
I could tell we both meant something to each other because he said he had never revealed this information to a potential boyfriend before. And so I leant over and kissed him on the lips. I’m not one for PDA’S but this just felt the right moment.
“I hope I get to see you again after tonight”, he said.
“Try and stop me.” I replied.
Mark David Woollard graduated from Brunel University, West London in 2009 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Creative Writing and Journalism. Since then, he has written for many publications as a freelance writer. He has been ‘The Undateable Gay’ for The Gay UK magazine since 2015 where he documents his unsuccessful dating life. He wrote an opinion column for the national Student Times, discussing LGBT issues.
He also writes educational pieces for ‘Massage World’ magazine, giving advice to Reflexologists about treating certain ailments. He authored a novella in 2013 entitled ‘The Fun and Frolics of FIFI a L’Orange’, the crazy adventures of a drag queen.
And is currently working on a series of LGBT books for children and a collection of flash fiction.
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