…And so, off I go to my first date of 2016, started under the sign of abandonment on the dance floor and bisexuality.
I ask Andrew, should he change idea about seeing me, to kindly let me know, because being cheated into hopelessly waiting for a guy twice in a weekend is just too much even for me. We exchange a few texts, he calls me, he has booked a table… All positive signs.
We meet at Piccadilly Circus, not knowing if the Eros will actually strike his arrows at us. When I see him, I joke that I remembered him more good looking, and he agrees that for his horrible act I am allowed to take the piss at least 5 times.
We go for drinks at the Bar Soho, and while sharing a bottle of white wine we start talking a lot about each other, and I am actually liking this guy and his views. He says that he came out on the date because he needs someone feisty like me that would put him back to his place. I smile because I think that actually that’s not at all what I meant, or am. How often people get a very different view of you! I, for once, consider myself a very pushover person, which then might prove my previous point: in those clubbing night we are not our usual self.
But back to the date. Over drinks he explains me that he prefers women, physically speaking, but gets along more with guys, personality wise. His ideal would be to find a woman who is not high maintenance (and for a split second I have this bulb lightning up: that’s me!). He explains me that he has always perceived himself as bisexual, from an early age, though of course society was initially pressing him to be straight. We even kiss, though it’s a more gentle, sweet kiss than the clubbing ones.
Parallel to his telling, I explain him my situation, my desire for a family, my open mindedness, and bla bla bla. We talk for hours while we eat a Thai meal that I can’t share with him because mine has prawns and nuts, two things to which he is allergic. He goes on asking me a lot of things about my tastes, my past relationships… A genuinely interested and interesting guy.
We walk towards the tube station holding hands, he hugs me and thanks me for a lovely night, but he cannot kiss me… because his allergy to nuts and prawns is so strong that a kiss from me, having just eaten those, might give him a bad reaction.
Excuse me, it’s with a laughter and a big smile that I would like to pause for a second and reflect on this. I’ve heard it before, from a guy: “You are dangerous”, but it was more in a playful, cheeky, flirting way. This one really means it! Oh, God, how much fantasy do you have? So, I guess, another first in my dating anecdotes.
So, he hugs me, some more banter, and he says “I’ll call you”.
The journey home leaves me some time to digest all that has been said. There is a cheerfulness in me, as it would actually classify as a good date: we joked, talked, took the piss at each other, enjoyed nice food and wine together. Ok, more kissing would have been very welcome, but you (or just me?) can’t have it all. However, I also wonder how my talking about children might have sounded to a guy whose two last relationships have been gay ones. We must surely have different views… And also, a little voice inside me is softly saying: “Come on, Roby! Do you seriously think that a bisexual could become the father of your children in a lovingly relationship?”
The problem is…. I don’t exclude it. Why not?
But my point here is another one. In these past three years as single, something was or went wrong with every single guy I have liked enough to start having visions about a possible future together:
One didn’t want any commitment.
Another one lied to me.
Another one had too many OCDs.
Another one was not sexually compatible.
Another one had to move to Brazil for his job.
Another one was just too Muslim.
Another one had children and was not sure he wanted more.
Another one was about to leave for a sabbatical year.
Another one wanted to focus on his career and didn’t want to get into a relationship.
Another one had just separated from his wife and everything was still too fresh for a new start.
Do you see my point? There are already so many things that can go wrong, and have gone wrong, and other women have never even been one of these things. Now, do I consciously want to put myself in a situation where NOT ONLY WOMEN, BUT ALSO MEN WOULD come in the way?
No, I don’t. I cannot consciously increase the numbers of obstacles to my happy ending. I cannot voluntarily make things more complicated than they already bloody are. I don’t have the energies. Dating is already so complex and consuming, that I raise my white flag here and step back from threading into the bisexual world.
At least, now I know one of my limits. And I have 362 days ahead to go out with straight guys 😉
PS: For the record, Andrew called me that night and said that though he had a lovely night, he didn’t feel the spark. THE SPARK! I forgot to mention the biggest thing that can go wrong…