Speed Dating, Part III :: Diff'rent Strokes (What You Talkin’ About, Keith?)

On the way home from the speed dating event, Keith and I compared notes. On some things we agreed. Cindy for example. ‘Very nice,’ said Keith.

‘Agreed,’ I said.

‘Certainly not interested in me though.' He shrugged. 'Shame. I’d definitely have done her.’

‘Quite,’ I said. 'Jane?'

'Which one was that?'

'Green jacket, brown hair, face like a tapir.'

'Oh, yeah, I know.' Keith reflected for a moment. 'She really did have a face like a tapir. Yeah, she seemed nice enough. Nothing to get excited about though. Can't remember anything she said.'

'Agreed. What about Atiya?’

‘Barking mad,’ said Keith.

‘Agreed.'

‘Really properly psycho though,’ Keith continued. ‘Did you see those fucking earrings she made?’

‘I know, I know.’

‘You know they were real condoms?’

‘No, they weren't. Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I swear. I mean, I didn’t touch one, but she waggled one in front of my face and it smelled real enough.’

‘No, no, no,’ I said. 'And no.'

'Suit yourself,' he said. ‘Fantastic tits though.’

‘Oh, please,’ I said.

‘What?’ said Keith. ‘You don’t think she had fantastic tits?’

‘That’s not really... I mean....’

‘She did, didn’t she?’

‘Well, yeah, but....’

‘But what?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t feel that that kind of remark is necessarily appropriate,’ I said, unsure of myself, feeling ever so slightly ‘PC brigade’.

‘Surely it’s no less appropriate than judging her mental capacity. Why is it alright to decide that she’s barking mad but not to decide that she had a really fuckable pair of tits?’

‘Oh, God, I don’t know!’ I cried. ‘It just feels it.’

‘What are you, fucking Amish?’

‘No, I just....’

‘You’re just a jerk and a berk,’ said Keith. ‘You read The Female Eunuch at an early age and you didn’t really understand it, so now you think it’s unacceptable to get turned on by a smashing pair of tits. The fact is, there’s absolutely no difference between you enthusing about Rafael Nadal’s biceps and me enthusing about that bonkers woman’s breasts. The only difference is, I’m not gay.’

I sighed. ‘Alright,’ I said. ‘You make a fair point,’ I said. ‘Maybe it’s just the word tits that makes me recoil a little. Breasts seems much less offensive to me. Breasts I can handle.’

‘Well, that’s just fucking stupid, isn’t it? Tits? What’s wrong with tits? Do you think it’s misogynistic or something?’ I shrugged. I guess I did a bit. It just sounds a bit disrespectful to me. And coarse. ‘Well, it’s not,’ Keith corrected me. ‘Forfucksake. Nice tits! Gorgeous arse! Scrumptious cock and knackers like avocados! These are just the words people use, man. I hate to say it but you really need to get out more.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Don’t sulk,’ said Keith. ‘What did you think of Tilly? Speaking of nice tits.’

‘Ugh,’ I said. ‘Don’t.’

‘What?’ said Keith. ‘You didn’t like her?’

‘Like her? No, I didn’t. She was vile. A horrible, self-obsessed media fuckstain.’

‘Oh, but that’s not offensive?’ said Keith.

‘Yeah, but I would love to offend Tilly, that’s the difference. I hated her.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Keith. ‘Interesting. Well, you might have a chance to revise your opinion at the weekend. She’s coming over for dinner.’

My face shrivelled. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

Keith shook his head. ‘I really liked her,’ he said. ‘I think she might be the one.’

‘I...’ I said. ‘You....’ I said. I realised I’d better not say anything. I bit my tongue.

Keith raised an eyebrow. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Out with it.’

‘No, no, nothing. I didn’t like her, that’s all, and I’m surprised that you did. No biggy. What did you think of Melanie?’

Keith pulled a face. ‘The fat one?’

I pulled a face. ‘The gorgeous one, yeah.’

Keith shrugged. ‘Not my cup of tea and to be honest, I found her a bit dull. She kept going on about plankton.’

‘Not your cup of tea? Are you insane?’

‘Didn’t fancy her, sorry.’

‘Fuck off.’

I sulked again. I know I should rejoice in the fact that we’re all so different and that one man’s goose is another man’s poison, but the fact is it pisses me off when people don’t agree with me about things I really care about. I’m very childish that way.

When I’d stopped sulking, Keith told me what he’d found out about Melanie, which wasn’t actually very much. Apparently, part of her job involves occasionally working with plankton. He couldn’t remember much more than that - like where she works, for example. Which is probably just as well as I might have tried to track her down, and that’s probably not a great idea.

Also, I decided that the reason Keith had convinced himself that he didn’t like Melanie was actually because she didn’t laugh at his jokes. Apparently he followed up some crass pun about ‘walking the plankton’ with another about being ‘as thick as two short plankton’, and rather than creasing up and fellating him, Melanie scoffed at him and told him there wasn't a plankton pun on earth she hadn't heard a million times. Good for her. It made me like her all the more.

In fact, it made me feel quite sad that I probably wouldn’t see her again.

I’ve been thinking about her a lot.

I’ve been staring at my phone, hearing it beep when it wasn’t actually beeping, and fantasising constantly.

Bugger.

Melanie was lovely. I loved her smile, her eyes, her laugh. And you know what else? She had fantastic tits.

Ugh. I'm sorry but I still think it sounds coarse. I'd much prefer to say she that she had a cracking chest, elegantly furnished with a nest of wonderfully comely breasts.

God, I want them.

....

To bring you bang up to date, Keith did meet Tilly again and they did get on well. I kept out of the way, and we haven't really spoken about it much since. I told him I was going to blog about her anyway, but that obviously, I'd be discreet. He shrugged and said, 'You do what you have to do'.

Meanwhile he's been sketching the speed dating. A couple of hours produced these three little beauties.

And there we are.

It's exactly a week since Melanie took my number and retained the power and you know what? It's very, very frustrating.



Harumph.