So there I was. Richmond station by the card shop. 2pm on first grey Saturday of 2020, on the first date since over a year ago. Which seems like a decade ago. Lee from Hove sounded nice on the phone. Long way to come but he said he didn't mind. I haven't got a clue what the etiquette is now. But friends told me to dress glamorous - outside Richmond station. So looking as much like my photo as I could, I wore matching face mask to pink jumper. Boots, skinny jeans, I looked OK. I had been teaching yoga all morning so very flexible and chilled. A part from the (cleverly) masked cold sore that always arrives a few days before any date, or meeting of any importance whatsoever.
I wasn't sure to be fair, as I had another offer to meet a friend around Liverpool Street, and he's great but no, I thought, take a leap of faith. You know, like Leonardo di Caprio's wife did in Inception, and see what would come of it.
Ten minutes in. Card shop empty, so walked in, reading through little books of.... you are amazing, of life's journey... how not to give a fuck...peered out again in search of anyone who looked remotely like Lee in the photo. Who looked like a sort of adonis. But with gingerish hair. Profile. Good nose.
Walked into the station. Man standing by another card shop (WH Smiths which is sort of card shop), asked. "Are you Lee?" He smiled. "No". He didn't look disgusted or relieved or annoyed when he looked into my eyes. All good signs.
Lee looked six something, (in height not years), athletic. Said he had dated someone from Bognor Regis the week before. Hmm. Should I be here. I looked around. Twenty something, sixty somethings, and lots and lots of drug dealers. Wearing dark glasses on a grey day in September. No one offered me drugs. I no longer know if this is a good sign or not. I have never ever been offered drugs, so I either look square, like a policewoman or like no fun whatsoever. I think that is probably not so good.
Twenty past. Walked outside again. Very old man with pony tail and loads of tattoos. Fuck. Is that you Lee? No. Another man. Ginger-ish hair. "Are you Lee?" "No," he said smiling again. I returned to the card shop. Wandered in again, and looked at the cards, congratulating mums to be and birthdays for cats, and saying all classy people get plastered on Prosecco. I looked at the girl serving. She smiled. I smiled under my mask.
Out again, walked to the bus stop opposite and was just about to ask someone, but thought no. Thankfully his boyfriend arrived the very next minute.
Half past. Looked at mobile and the battery had gone dead. Should I recharge and return home or stay around. Wander staring into the eyes of every ginger haired man I met. Perhaps he had dyed his hair since the photo, or had taken ill on the train, or got CoVID or had hitched up again with the girl from Bognor.
At forty past I thought bugger it, and left to find that Marks and Spencer in the station is now open. Bought myself some nuts which will probably make the cold sore worse, and walked home to write more and finish book.
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