Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet and Watch
As I jumped into the taxi en route to my date, I realised how little I knew about the man I was about to meet. I had ‘met’ him on a dating app where he was known enigmatically as ‘MC’. I didn’t worry too much about this; I can sympathise with the embarrassment of advertising oneself to complete strangers in a public domain.
Arriving at the restaurant I awkwardly surveyed the room until I locked eyes with the only solitary figure sitting at a table. The first thing I noticed was his hair - always a welcome bonus – it was treacly brown and showed no signs of thinning. Thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose giving him an air of nutty professor.
As we began chatting I kept thinking of Hugh Laurie, he had a naturally comedic energy and had me guffawing and sniggering in no time at all. He was undeniably charming and charismatic; he entertained our waitress whilst ordering Pisco Sours with wild abandon. This was promising, a jovial chap with a full head of hair, so far so good.
He told me how he had spent a few years in Japan learning the ancient art of pottery with a master of ceramics, and became somewhat of a minor celebrity in the small village he visited. Intriguingly he wanted to become a ceramist but somehow ended up in marketing – a creative soul with a brain - excellent.
The drinks kept flowing and despite it being a first date, he had taken the liberty of ordering us dinner – normally reserved for second or third encounters. He’d also committed to taking me out for a birthday dinner at a swanky restaurant after discovering our mutual love for sushi; I was getting ahead of myself but this was going really well.
Mid-forkful, I looked across the table to witness MC putting on an impressive theatrical display. He was patting his shirt and jean pockets with such gusto that he could have been auditioning for his local pantomime. Then, head in hands he grimaced, “I’m such an idiot, oh my gosh, have I gone red?”.
Now, it doesn’t take a genius to work this out. The universal sign for checking for your wallet is a simple tap to the pocket, but MC had done this repeatedly with such a spectacular performance it was hard to ignore.
“Let me guess, you’ve left your wallet at home?” I asked knowingly.
“Yes, is it that obvious? Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, well this is awkward”.
Immediately I felt a deep sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, blood rose to my flushed cheeks, it all suddenly felt very premeditated and rehearsed, I hoped someone might leap into view with a full camera crew and shout, “You’ve been framed!” and all could be forgiven.
That didn’t happen. Instead, MC proceeded to order more drinks, albeit asking for my permission first. In retrospect I should have pulled the ripcord at that very moment but I was in a slight state of shock. My mind was running at a million miles per hour, had I just been played? My gut reaction (always trust your gut) was that he was a conman and a repeat offender at that. I still held out hope that he might come up with a solution for the rapidly multiplying unpaid bill.
Looking at the evidence he was one step ahead; he hadn’t provided his full name and even though I had given him my mobile number he conducted all communication via the app. Thereby covering his tracks, erasing any risk of unexplained transactions or late night texts.
He did contact me again via the app (obviously), with a vague intent of another dinner but at no point did he suggest reimbursing me. In the days that followed I secretly hoped to trip over a large bouquet of flowers left romantically on my doorstep, anything to remedy the feeling of being hoodwinked.
The evening left a sour taste in my mouth, and I’m not talking about the drinks, con me once shame on you, con me twice shame on me.