THE WINNING LINES: Tales from my dating days #6

“You’re very intelligent, aren’t you? I don’t like to date intelligent women. I find it intimidating.”

Honestly, I’m not Stephen Hawking. Really. But, even if I was, I don’t understand this.

I love meeting people who have strengths that I don’t have. I don’t know the first thing about the night sky, so when an ex pointed out all the different stars in the constellation, it was sexy as hell. I dated someone who played the guitar beautifully; I feel giddy at the memory of it. My boyfriend (not the chap in this story, obviously) is never more attractive than when rolls his sleeves up to fit a new light, or to fix the toilet; jobs that I couldn’t do on pain of death.

I think my date that night must have been quite an insecure person. I wonder, if he’s with anyone now, if he’s told her the good news: that he considers her stupid enough to date?

THE WINNING LINES: Tales from my dating days #4

We’d been chatting about music for a while. Then, he leaned across the table and said:

“You’re a woman, so how do you know so much about music?” Before I could reply, he continued: “Then again, you’re not really a girly girl, are you? You’re more into the things that the blokes are. I bet you’re still into hair and handbags though.”

Right.

I’m a musician (as well as being a writer, it all helps to pay the bills…) and I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember. However, I don’t see music as being something specifically male or female. Frankly, I get annoyed when people try and define interests like that, goggling at the women who likes football or the stay-at-home dad like they’re some freak of nature.

And for the record, I’m not into hair* or handbags**, but so what if I was?

*My hair pretty much does its own thing, it sits on my head, I don’t think about it much beyond that.

**I have one I like, it’s useful for carrying stuff, that’s about the extent of the bag experience for me.

THE WINNING LINES: Tales from my dating days #3

Another internet date. He emailed me several times beforehand to say how nervous he was. (Fair enough, we’ve all been there.) And then the date rolled around:

Me: “Hi, nice to meet you finally. How are you?”

Him: “Still really nervous. This is the first date I’ve been on in twenty years”.

Me: “Well, no worries, we’ve all got to get back in the dating game at some point. When did you and your wife split up?”

Him: “Last month.”

Me: “Oh. Really? Er, OK, but isn’t that a bit soon to be dating, maybe?”

Him: “Well, why not? You never know when you might meet the love of your life! It could be you!”

IT WASN’T ME.