“Hey you. Sorry about my absence. Work is quite crazy, how are you? All good? Hear from you tonight.”
This Tango message from the Iceman flashes across my screen at 5.13pm as I’m cutting up vegetables for the Mexican feast I’m making for Lily and her husband. The Iceman has been out of contact since Wednesday, again, and it’s now Sunday night. I’m not going to reply straight away.
“Yeah am OK. Hot! Just making a Mexican feast for my chums who are coming for supper…any end in sight to all this Work?” I reply at 5.44pm, whilst I’m having a break from cooking – it’s too bloody hot – and settled down in front of Top Gear. Mentioning that I have Friends, but also gently inquring as to when he might get a break from working.
“Hopefully! Am going back to Iceland next weekend but would be fun if we could meet in the week after?” the Iceman’s reply says when it arrives at 6.18pm.
“Of course we can,” I write straight back – since he’s just made an actual request to meet up with me. “I look forward to seeing you eventually xxx Am in France 2nd – 9th August so before then hopefully.”
“Yup, definetly (sic)” he replies at 8.04pm.
So, that’s where things stand with the Iceman. Possible meeting in about a week, or 10 days.
In other news, I went on a date on Saturday night that I’m not allowed to write about. The chap does a job where he can’t have any publicity, even if I change his name. I can however describe the look of pure horror that crossed his face when he said “do you write about dating,” and I replied “yes.”
“You mustn’t write about me,” he said, his face white with fear, Hamlet’s face when he sees the Ghost.
“I promise I won’t if you don’t want me to,” I said.
“That has really freaked me out,” he said, sipping his lager.
“I’m sorry. You’re the first person who’s reacted like that. Most of them are interested and a bit flattered that they might become characters in my blog.”
“I really can’t have anything written about me,” he said. “Look I think I’d better go.”
I persuaded him to stay for a couple of drinks, and we ended up having a fun evening but then yesterday I received a message from him saying:
“I enjoyed last night and think you are lovely but I don’t want to take it any further. Hope you understand and wish you all the best.”
“Why not?” I fired back.
“A number of reasons but don’t want to go into it. I’m sorry. I like you but it’s not right for me now. Take care of yourself.”
“Will try,” I messaged back. “Today’s column is Not About You because I’m nice.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Obviously that was yesterday, and yesterday’s column wasn’t about him, so at the time I wrote that message to him it was true. The desire to write about him was too strong to be overcome, however, so I’m writing about him today anyway. Ah well, such is the fate of any chap who encounters me in a dating situation: they will get written about.