Dave - March 2017

In my last blog I mentioned one particular man with a missing tooth. Check out the PS section at the end of that blog entry. That's Dave. Not David. Just Dave. Second most boring date I've ever been on. A close second to the infamous I've-had-a-fucking-Brad-day Brad. That's another story.

I mentioned in my last entry that Dave sent me a text before we met to explain that he'd just been to the dentist and his mouth was vewy vewy sore. He'd need to recoup before he could contact me again and he told me not to expect a text message from him that week. I guessed that he'd just had a tooth pulled. Silent gag.

My brother has recently introduced me to the idea that I'm in what he refers to as 'the transition phase'. He sees this as a very healthy and sensible process I'm doomed to go through where I finally warm to the idea that I am in fact better off never dating again. When the pain outweighs the gain and all hope is lost. Apparently once I've battled my way through this 'transition' I'll be very happy to spend my life alone. Just me and my house. "Why do you even bother?" asks my married brother. As he sees it, when I've made it to the other side of transition, I won't even think about men or sex. Life will be dandy, and I can get on with more important things. Mid-week after I've spent the day at work I'll lose myself in tasks like working out how to invest my superannuation, how to lower my electricity bills, and how to make the perfect spaghetti bolognese. Weekends will be spent mostly by myself, but occasionally in the company of family or female friends, cooking, gardening, drinking wine and maybe laughing and clapping alone to comedies on Netflix. Meanwhile single men my age will spend their time searching for someone to start their second family with.

Well, if there is such a thing as transition, Dave has helped me move through it a little. 

Dave phoned me before we met. During our first conversation, Dave told me that he had worked for the one company since he finished year 12. Thirty years later he was a Project Manager. He was very important. Sometimes, he told me, he even worked from home. He filled me in on his new boss, then his old boss, his need to increase his working-from-home hours. That was a battle because he hadn't yet worked out his new boss. He was tossing up simply telling his new boss how HE'D like things. Did I think that was a good idea? It was a real doozy of a first conversation. Before Dave hung up, he decided where we would meet. He had a lot on so he scheduled me in for Sunday afternoon about 3pm. Not a great timeslot in the dating world, but then again, I was the same age as Dave so probably not his first choice. Choice # 1 would have been Saturday night and about 10 years younger than himself.

So we met in a rather non-descript, rather uninteresting bar/coffee shop in Collingwood - a suburb which is literally overflowing with cool places to grab a drink. I gave it a 2/10 for ambience. Dave had arrived early and had already been there for over an hour reading. He'd text me to let me know that he'd be reading his book until I arrived. I pictured a cool guy with a well worn small print classic novel sipping a glass of red and lounging on a brown leather couch at the back of the bar. Dave had text me to let me know that he was now bearded, and wearing a dark blue (insert brand name I don't recognise) t-shirt. When I arrived he was the only customer in the place, so not too difficult to recognise. When he saw me, he closed up his glossy picture book (I'm not even going to explain that) and scraped back his metal-legged chair from the small wooden table. He was huge, I think about 6 foot 4 inches, and when I moved in for the nice-to-meet-you peck on the cheek, I got to smell him from his chest up. He smelt a bit like he'd spent the night at a bonfire. His beard was remarkably thick and reminded me of my own unkempt pubic hair. He'd trimmed it rather bluntly around his medium-sized lips which he licked a lot. Made his mouth look a lot like a moist vagina. When he spoke, he opened his mouth wide and then paused with it open for a second or so before he delivered his words. Enough time for me to have a good look inside. He eyes roamed around the room as he spoke until the last word or so of each sentence when his eyes would move back to me. He was a serious man. Not so much as a smile in those first few minutes. He had a lot of info to get off his chest I guess.

Introductions and first impressions over, we approached the bar to order. The waitress asked if he wanted to pay his bill, and he replied that we'd be staying on for a drink.

During the next hour I heard a lot about Dave.

• His chronic pain 
• His back injury (lovely)
• His recent weight gain
• His love of music festivals (man)
• His plans to leave his job and start his own business taking people on tours of the outer-inner-northern Melbourne suburbs. Huge market for this he said.
• I heard lots about his job
• His workmates
• His work hours
• His old boss 
• His new boss
• His childhood
• His exercise regime
• His physiotherapist
• His past travels
• His plans for travel

There was one brief reprieve when he went to take a piss. An hour into the date he finally stopped. He was lost for conversation and things started to get a little awkward. I refused to offer him anything. I'd finished my wine 15 minutes after I started, but it had taken Dave the full hour to find time to sip his beer between words. If he'd noticed my wine was empty, he hadn't said anything. He'd never really stopped talking long enough to give me time to order a second drink for myself. We both suggested it was time to go home. I offered to pay for the drinks. Only fair, since I'd been the one to approach him on the dating website. That's when I realised I was also paying an extra $15 for whatever Dave had consumed in the hour before we met.

Dave never got around to asking what I did for a living.

Dave, like all the others, was sporting a gaping toothless space - 5th tooth back from the midline, upper jaw - fresh and raw.