Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sasha’s date with Will went surprisingly well. The sun was shining; she had just been to the hairdresser for a wash and blow-dry and her hair swished with a controlled glow as she arrived at Caffé Nero. He was waiting outside, looking exactly like his photo ten years before! How had he not aged at all? What face cream was he piling on each day? What vitamin supplements was he taking? Whatever he was doing, she was keen to copy, if it meant she’d share his age-dodging skills.
Sitting side-by-side on one of the comfy sofas upstairs, Will regaled her with stories of his life; his upbringing, his family background in farming, his marriage and subsequent divorce. He was chatty, friendly and easy to talk to, but he also listened attentively when she spoke. A couple of hours later, she sailed out of the coffee shop, assured that the date had gone exceedingly well. She was sure he was going to follow up with a ‘Thanks, great to meet you. Would love to see you again?’ text. He might wait a couple of hours or maybe even a day, erring on the side of playing it cool, but she was sure a text would appear.
But the next day; nothing. How peculiar, she thought. She really did think they had got on pretty well. Perhaps he was playing it really cool. Perhaps he was playing the three day rule? But three days later, still nothing. Surely he wasn’t expecting her to make the first move? An unnerving feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Was she going to have to concede to her innermost self that he, in fact, was not interested in her and had no intention of contacting her? Perhaps he had looked at her photos, several years out of date, and had noticed that she had in fact put on at least a stone (possibly two)? Perhaps he had walked away, disgusted at yet another fake profile, and swearing off online dating sites forever more?
Her toes curled in embarrassment at the thought of this rejection.
However, despite her disappointment, Sasha was determined not to give up. She had signed up to a Year of No Rules and by God, she was going to persist! She couldn’t just fall at the first hurdle, could she? No, she had to pick herself up and carry on.
So when Mark sent her a message, she thought that this could be her happy ending. He was cute – very cute – with arms that looked like pistons. He must work out for hours every day, compared to her measly half an hour, three times per week. Perhaps he could become her new personal trainer, sitting patiently beside her on the yoga mat, working her body into all sorts of flexible poses while they worked themselves up into a pre-coital position? She would emerge from their early relationship days with a healthy glow, a stone lighter and with an air of confident girlfriend-material happiness.
His profile stated that he was fifty-one – ten years older than her. But he was the youngest looking fifty-one-year-old she’d ever seen. Unless it wasn’t a recent picture. He had that ‘silver fox’ look about him. As though he had been around the block a few times. As though he could teach her a thing or two.
Marvellously, he seemed quite smitten with her too. He told her how gorgeous she looked, and complimented her on all her photos. He then asked to see more photos of her.
Uh-oh, here we go. Sasha thought. This is where he’ll be looking for nudie pics.
However, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she sent him a couple of photos of herself (non-nudie, of course). To her pleasant surprise, instead of him texting back “Er… I meant naughty ones?” he replied with “Aw, you’re gorgeous!”
Sasha felt her hopes raise despite herself.
“And you’re sure you don’t mind the age gap between us?” he asked again, sounding unsure of himself.
Normally, Sasha preferred confident men, but actually his self-doubt was quite endearing. It made him seem vulnerable.
Throwing the question back at him, she asked, “So, do you have any more pics of yourself?” Thinking that if he was making her go to the bother, she might as well get him to do the same. To her surprise, a video suddenly popped up in her messages. She opened it to see that it was a video of him talking. Result! she thought, an actual 3D image of him before meeting him in person. But wait… what was he doing?
He was on all fours, about to do press-ups. “Okay guys,” he was saying, “This is day two of my twenty-two challenge…” Sasha’s first observation was that yes, in fact he did look older. Facially, she could tell that he was in his fifties. But his arms – oh my God, they were massive. I wouldn’t mind them on top of me, pumping me, Sasha found herself thinking distractedly.
But to her horror, he dropped to the floor and began doing twenty-two press-ups!
Has he really sent me a video of himself doing twenty-two press-ups? Sasha wondered. Yes, it was an achievement, and yes, he had great arms, but, well… it just seemed so… posey.
I wonder if he’s one of these obsessed-with-himself gym bunnies? Sasha pondered.
Sasha didn’t know how to respond to him, other than to say, “Wow, you obviously work out a lot.”
“Yeah,” he replied.
She didn’t know if he expected her to say, ‘wow, wouldn’t mind those arms pumping me,’ but she just kept silent. Later that evening, she noticed she had a friend request on Facebook – and sure enough, it was from Mark.
Goodness me, he seems keen. Sasha thought. He’s obviously been searching out all the Sashas in Belfast to find me.
But something strange happened after that. Sasha couldn’t put her finger on it but the vibe just went cold after that. The texts stopped. It just went dead.
Obviously he’s seen something on my Facebook that he doesn’t like, Sasha thought, with panic.
Was she as guilty as all the other online dating users, of only putting their most polished, most flattering photos up? Perhaps now he was browsing through her Facebook, he was looking at her less flattering photos. Perhaps the photos with an extra couple of pounds on. Perhaps the lighting wasn’t as generous as her filter-applied photos on the dating website.
She could sense a cancellation coming. It was in her waters, same as when she felt a period coming.
Sure enough, on the morning of their date, two hours before their scheduled appointment, the text arrived.
“Morning gorgeous girl, would it be okay if we rescheduled? X”
No explanation. No reason. No excuse. Just ‘can we reschedule?’ Sasha knew that in the dating world, reschedule meant cancel.
Rapidly firing off a reply, she wrote “no worries,” then deleted his contact details and blocked him. Timewaster, she hissed.
She noticed that it was possible her mind could go down one of two routes.
Either the negative route, angry at him for cancelling, wondering what it was in her Facebook that he didn’t like; self-pity kicking in – why me? Every time I try to pick myself up, I get knocked down. It’s not fair. God is not looking out for me at all…
But this time, Sasha was determined to stop these thoughts. She was determined to choose the positive route.
Okay, he has cancelled, but it’s his issue, not mine. If he has a problem with my photos then he’s shallow, and I would be better off without him. I need to be able to be myself and not let someone try to change me. If he’s the type of guy who doesn’t approve of me or support me, then I don’t need him in my life.
Perhaps it’s his issue.
Perhaps he’s afraid that, because he’s ten years older, I’ll turn him down after the first date.
Sasha felt encouraged. Even though it was wasn’t ideal that he had cancelled the date, she was pleased with herself for dealing it with it so well. She had stopped her negative thinking in its tracks. She was determined to choose positive thoughts. She was not going to let herself spiral down into a pool of self-pity and depression.
Putting on her trainers, she decided to head out for a walk. The fresh air would help her – would clear away the cobwebs. The movement of her legs and arms back and forth would stimulate some adrenalin running through her body. She would repeat positive thoughts in her head; that if he was put off by a few less-than-perfect photos then he wasn’t the man for her. If he couldn’t accept her as she was, then it was absolutely pointless dating him. She would pick herself up and carry on. This was her year of taking risks.