Date two

Posted by Lucy Robinson at 12:04 on 10 Jan 2010

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One of my friends emailed me yesterday saying "WTF? You can't meet someone, what will happen to your blog if you get all coupled up?"

"Don't be stupid," I replied, "We both know perfectly well it'll go wrong."

I was right, of course.

Here is a run down of date two.


Date arranged for 7.30pm. At 7pm my phone beeps.

JAKE: Can we make it 8pm?
ME: Oh, OK.
JAKE: Cool. I haven't been to bed yet. Need to get my head together.
ME: Oh. We don't have to meet up if you're feeling rough?
JAKE: Don't be silly, I can't wait to see you. Meet me by the London Eye.

Why on earth had he been up for nearly two days? Please God, I thought, let him not have been taking drugs. That's something I just can't handle. I can't help but think that men who are still taking loads of drugs in their mid-thirties are essentially just big babies. Not that I'm saying it's ok at any age but you'd sort of hope that people would have moved on by the time they're 34. Let it not be that, I thought. Let it not be that.

Within ten seconds of meeting him it was immediately obvious that it was, well, that. Apart from being in hideous shape, physically, he was like a different man. Cold, withdrawn, uninterested in anything I said and, worst of all, talking about himself constantly. Not just most of the night; ALL OF THE NIGHT. He honestly didn't even ask me how I was.

Here's some of the things he said. None are edited. In fact, they're by no means the worst but many of the things he came out with are unprintable.

Jake: So you know I used to be engaged to Fiona. (We'd talked about it on the phone. I'd decided that honesty was the best policy.) My mates think that's hilarious.
Me: Why?
Jake: Well, that's pretty f*cking disloyal isn't it.
Me: Eh? Why?
Jake: Cos she's your mate!
Me: No she's not, she's my ex-boss. Jake, if there's a problem with us going on dates then it's definitely your problem, not mine.
Jake: B*llocks! What about female solidarity? As me and my mates were saying, you women are all just snakes. Snakes with tits.
Me: (disbelieving silence) .... er, I'm sorry? What?

Jake: When I broke up with Fiona, I stayed good mates with her best friend.
Me: And?
Jake: Well, Fiona had told her best mate about the things that I used to do to her in bed
Me: er, there's no need to carry on with this
Jake: (ignoring me) and so her best mate has obviously always been up for it and in the end I gave in and slept with her
Me: No need. No need.
Jake: She's still calling me, begging me for sex.
Me: Oh God..

Jake: You and me are going to be awesome.
Me: (already knowing that I will never see him again) Really? How do you know? It's only our second date.
Jake: Because you'll fall in love with me. In fact, I think you may already have done.
Me: Ha. You reckon.
Jake: I know. Women love me.
Me: You certainly seem to have slept with a lot of them.
Jake: Hundreds! (The first smile he's cracked all night) There was this WAG, once, and... (unprintable)

Jake: I'm a really, really REALLY good writer.
Me: I agree.
Jake: Everyone who's seen my work says so.
Me: You've certainly got a knack. You reeled me in very effectively!
Jake: The last book I wrote made me a fortune. I travelled the world staying in 5* hotels. It's only a matter of time before that happens again.
Me: Do you ever suffer self-doubt, Jake?
Jake: Look, I was the poor kid at a posh public school. You have to learn to believe in yourself. (Glum face; a signal for me to tell him he's amazing. And because I'm so gobsmacked by the entire experience, I end up doing pretty much that.)

Jake: I hate women.
Me: Er...?
Jake: They're f*cking stupid. Always bitching and doing each other over.
Me: That's simply not true. I know you don't really think that.
Jake: I do. My Dad's trying to marry me off at the moment and he keeps flying in all of these stupid women to meet me.
Me: (literally cannot believe what I'm hearing) What? From where?
Jake: All over the place. They're all just so stupid. I bed them and then send them home.
Me: Wow. You're a hopeless romantic, Jake


Jake: I've got this mate.
Me: Right. (I am, by now, dead inside)
Jake: Before he met me, he could only ever pull fat women. Now he goes out with me, he can get off with really hot women. We're going to Rio in January to meet some women.
Me: Oh sh*t, there's my bus, I've got to run...

It wasn't my bus. It was going to Queen's Park which is definitely not where I live. But it presented a safe escape route.

I sat on the bus feeling like I'd just been mugged. I was too shocked even to call someone, I just sat there, London gliding past me, mute. Eventually I got off at Maida Vale and got a taxi home. I got into my flat and jumped into my poor flatmate's bed, sobbing and mental. "Turn gay," he suggested.

And so, dear reader, that's that for Jake and I. Suffice to say I'm shocked. I mean, I know drugs do weird things to people but this was beyond the pale. And the worst of it is that although he acted like he utterly detested me, he's just texted asking if I want to go over to his tonight. What the...?

Thank God he doesn't know where I live!

I feel stupid. So bloody stupid.

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