Past: The Fish Man Cometh

He was... floppy. Well, OK, his HAIR was floppy.

I had suggested a bar just down the road from my office, so I was prompt. He was late. Apparently it's a woman's prerogative but a man's necessity. But one must not let the fact that one's date is slightly late cloud a first impression. That would be slightly unfair, after all. There may have been a toilet emergency or a monkey on the District Line. So I smiled sweetly, appeared to take interest in what his day had been like (banal, from what I could make out) and ordered a beer. I have since learned that ordering a beer on a first date may not give an impression of femininity and fluffiness. But I was thirsty, so push off.

He was actually rather charming in a boyish, long-ish haired kind of way. A bit like Jim Carrey without the abrasiveness. We had quite a deep conversation about what it's like to be an actor and how difficult it is to keep going. He told me that he had a lot of actor friends and admires us for following such a treacherous path! I noticed that throughout our conversation he managed to peel the label off his beer bottle completely, so that the bottle looked as if it had never held a label at all. I remembered that whenever anyone absent-mindedly peeled a label off anything at school we used to tease them for being sexually frustrated, and wondered if that applied to this situation. It probably did, let's face it. But I brushed all that to one side and tried to focus on the conversation. I was having quite a nice time, actually- it's not often that you strike up a rapport via Email that translates to an actual face-to-face conversation, but this was actually quite good fun! All lovely lovely.

Until.

It got to about 8.30pm. He asked me if I'd like another drink. I said I would, but it was getting late and perhaps we could go and get a bite to eat? His reply? 'I'd love to, but... I've got a piece of fish in the fridge that needs eating today and I really should go home and cook it.'

I laughed! I thought it was a joke. It MUST have been a joke? But the look on his face indicated that it wasn't a joke at all. In fact he stood up, grabbed his coat and said 'So do you mind if we call it a night?' I was a little taken aback (and still reeling from the fishy excuse) so I said I didn't mind at all and stood up too. We said goodnight- a peck on the cheek and a 'take care'- and I walked to the station completely flabbergasted and contemplating the fish issue in great detail. Why on EARTH would you say THAT to somebody as an excuse to leave?! What grade of expiring fish warrants cutting a charming date short: Lobster? Monkfish? Was this a piece of fish so rare that he simply couldn't bring himself to be parted from it on its last day of relative freshness? Or the worst (and most likely) theory- Was the date going so badly from his point of view that he didn't care what he said just as long as he could get away? This idea hurt my feelings a little, given the fact that I had thought it was going well. But it was really the only explanation, so I resigned myself to the idea that he just didn't want to see me again, and texted Mr. X on the train home. (We'll come back to Mr. X later)

So, lovely reader, you may think that that is the end of the Fish Man. And I would have heartily agreed with you whilst I was sat on the train thinking about my continuing singledom. I was wrong, however (as would you have been). The following day, at 11.56am, I got an Email from him:

'Hi
Did you enjoy last night? I did. It was nice to actually meet you.
On the train home I noticed a really good exhibition we could have gone to in the paper, do you like stuff like that? It was about the evolution of electronic music over the last 20 odd years..
x'

I was totally caught off-guard. What was going on? Why on EARTH was he messaging me when it was very clear from the fishiness that he didn't want to see me again? A new theory presented itself in my brain: He DID want to see me again; he is just the kind of person who will not throw out a decent piece of fish and is prepared to relinquish a possibility of intercourse for that principle. Not a sexy thought, really. My mind fast-forwarded to our first anniversary:
'I've booked your favourite restaurant for dinner tonight, darling'
'You bitch, if you'd told me earlier I could have frozen the rollmops.'

I now had a small dilemma- to reply or not to reply? To overlook the Sell By Date trait or not? I decided to thow him a slightly greasy rope:

'Hi! I enjoyed last night too. Although I was a little perplexed that you cut the night short because of a piece of fish..........!?'

We had a small Email conversation, him apologising and saying he hoped I hadn't taken it personally but he had had college work to do, me pointing out that maybe he should have used the college work as an excuse instead, him saying that he was having some trouble speaking on the date so he just blurted something out (?!)... it was all a bit strange if I'm honest. And as hard as I tried, I just couldn't let go of the fish excuse. I couldn't get past it. It was the giant fish in the room that nobody mentioned.
We exchanged a few more messages and eventually set a second date, but I cancelled it at the last minute.
After all, I had some chicken in the fridge that needed eating.

FYI

A little bit about myself to put you all in the picture... I'm an actress, 28, and I live in a lovely one-bed flat in South East London. I like steak, horror films and making people laugh. Right. Let's commence....

Welcome...

...to my blog. I have no idea how to do this or how it works, but thought I'd start it and see what kind of response I get!
Hopefully it'll make you laugh/cry/tut loudly and shake your head...
(IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?)