Two dates down with Rick and we still hadn’t shared anything more intimate than a handhold. This was definitely some kind of record for me. It’s been a rare occurrence for me to get past the first date without a bit of How’s your father.
But with Rick. De nada. Not even a kiss. Some friends thought this was a bad sign. Others believed it was romantic. I started to panic. I needed to know if that spark was there when our lips locked. As Cher categorically states, “It’s in his kiss.”
On our third date, which was only FOUR days after our second, (YES, we were certainly having a whirlwind romance), I decided a kiss had to happen. We had so much chemistry emotionally, I needed to be certain it was there physically too.
I booked us tickets to see a one woman show in a theatre in the West End. And the one woman was none other than Amanda Muggleton. YES, Amanda Muggleton.
I’m anticipating the perplexed looks of most readers, scratching their heads. Who the fuck is Amanda Muggleton? Well, let me tell you. She is one of my favourite actresses from the 1980’s cult classic, Prisoner: Cell Block H.
We sat in the theatre, watching the amazing performance. (I know, I’m biased). And we were holding hands. What had this boy done to me? When it comes to friends, I have no problems expressing my emotions and feelings. But, until Rick, I’d never been very tactile when it came to men. Apart from the odd bunk up.
As we left the theatre, we decided to grab a bite to eat. We found a beautiful little Thai place that served the most delicious Thai Green Curry. The best I’d ever got my mouth round. Rick was very cultured when it came to eating out and he was very well travelled.
We walked back towards the tube, the moonlight glistening down on the pavement and I decided now was the time. I had a duty to Cher to find out if it’s really in his kiss. Without warning, I pounced like a lion on its prey.
Words will NEVER do justice to THAT kiss. But if it had been a Hollywood movie, fireworks would have been exploding above our heads and topless dancers would have been doing backflips and cartwheels down Trafalgar Square.
I had him pinned up against the wall, sheer passion erupting from my lips, like a scene out of trashy super soap FOOTBALLERS WIVES.
He finally managed to escape my grip, and my lips, and looked me straight in the eye.
“Alright Tanya Turner”, he managed to say, as the blood came rushing back to his gums, tongue and lips. “I feel like Conrad when Tanya fucked him on the washing machine.”
That was the best compliment any man had ever given me. Besides Joan Collins, Zoe Lucker as Tanya Turner is my IDOL. And I really could have taken Rick on a full spin cycle. But I felt Trafalgar Square wasn’t the appropriate place for our first fornication.
It was time for our fourth date and we were back in Windsor, where it had all begun, just two weeks prior. After a romantic dinner date under the arches, we went for a moonlit stroll along the river. Although we didn’t make it as far as the Thames.
As we went to walk past a pub, three very drunken ladies stumbled out in front of us. Rick’s face dropped, faster than a whore’s drawers. Confused, I looked at Rick. And then at the ladies. And then back at Rick. Rick broke the silence.
“MUM! AUNTY JOY! NAN!”
I saw the horror on Rick’s face. I don’t think he had intended me to meet his family just yet. And not under these circumstances.
“Dis… a very handsome boy you have here Rick”, I heard a woman slur as she grabbed my cheeks. I assumed it was his Nan. Unless his mum had had a hard life.
Another of the inebriated women elbowed Rick and whispered. Well, it wasn’t actually a whisper, but I think they intended it to be.
“You’ve done well for yourself here Rick!”
I felt myself grow a bit taller and a slight blush pop up on my face. Although Rick was mortified and he quickly said his goodbyes to his drunken relations and abruptly dragged me off towards the river.
Our fifth date arrived and I made the decision to do something I hadn’t done with a man since my first boyfriend way back in 2003. I invited him to meet my friends. I planned a dinner party at my house.
We had a homemade curry and he went down a storm with my pals. Chatting, playing games and laughing. I looked at Rick interacting with my friends, and I just knew I would marry this man. How wrong could I be…
That week, he was due to go to Canada for a month to visit a friend. As I said goodbye at the departure gates at Heathrow, I did my best Tanya Turner impression and kissed him passionately up against a terminal five wall.
Little did I know that that was to be our last kiss.
The weeks went by and he was due back from Canada. Excited, I planned a romantic, home cooked, welcome back meal to mark his return. I had fillet steak, potato dauphinoise and as much as I hate the stuff, copious bottles of white zinfandel.
But he never turned up. And I never heard from him again…
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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