A long time ago in a Galaxy not so far away I asked my first proper girlfriend out at work. My approach was toe curlingly awful, although to be fair my apologetic, stumbling and cringing posture was nonetheless successful as I got the date. On reflection I can’t have been that bad, although perhaps a more likely explanation is that the lady in question felt sorry for me. Of the limited number of girls that I had dated before marrying in my early twenties this strategy was quite consistent. Once married the need to date became redundant.
Fast forward to today, and the dating scene is lightyears away from the innocence of hanging around the photocopier plucking up the courage to ask Julie out for a lager and a glass of blue nun, preceded, if I was lucky, by a burger and chips at the local Wimpy. Dating has gone technical.
So, what is it like out there? Would a relatively shy guy like me, with prominent front teeth, have stood a chance in the cyber tunnel of love? Ever been swiped to the right? Found little or no harmony? Managed to hook any fish? Found my ideal match?
It all sounded petrifying! Yet how horrifyingly would this process play out for someone much older? Fifty plus? Almost prehistoric! I had been briefed by friends of a certain age who had been through this terror that this wasn’t the terrain for the timid, technophobic or traditionalist. I was, by definition, excluded before I had even clicked cupid’s control button! Then I discovered that my primary social media platform had introduced its very own solution. Facebook dating, launched in 2019, made me wonder how such a journey may pan out for a guy like me. I slowly fell asleep and entered dreamland …
I never thought that a meeting above some crusty London pub in a dark, rather unwelcoming function room would lead to this. As I sat listening to the IT lady talk about social media my eyes glazed over.
As part of joining a local business networking forum I had been encouraged to attend a local event after being wined and dined at a nearby plush corporate facility. They sure knew how to reel in a sucker I thought!
This was a real come down, with no more than six or seven of us with my business champion who had nominated my inclusion within the local chapter, there too. Terms with which I was familiar, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and YouTube were mentioned although my first association was that of my daughter’s endless use of the former, seemingly talking nonsense with her friends. And by friends I mean over two thousand! Who the hell has that many friends? Or was this evidence that I had become a social outcast? No. I am sure that I had never had that many friends in my whole life!
This only edified my opinion that social media was, in fact, some wishy washy, flaky method of pretending to be liked. Not for me! I was OK with my own networking thank you! Actually talking to people and, where necessary, listing them on my mobile!
Then a certain word captured my attention. ‘Free’. Businesses could utilise these various platforms for nothing. Furthermore, some of the biggest global enterprises were using it! Coca Cola, Ford, McDonalds, and Pampers! The full list was impressive, and the PowerPoint case studies appeared to show a real return on investment for the smaller businesses too! This notion had a certain appeal and the following day I launched a Facebook page!
A trickle of requests from ex-colleagues and a handful of friends followed. Most I subsequently assumed were ‘friend collectors’ as they never bothered to send me a message. Then there were the special interest groups. That almost sounds pervy! I signed up immediately to ‘Save Peterborough and Coventry Speedway’ and was chuffed when the collective spirit of the group helped to secure the return of both tracks to the Elite League. My friends list kept growing at a steady, if not alarming rate and I soon hit the century mark.
I had chatted to a few via the messaging service and enjoyed the odd joke too. Yet I have to admit that I had attracted the odd Facebook saddo too! “I’m at Starbucks”, “Just been shopping at Morrisons”. I felt like rebelling, “I’m having a poo”; “I have just picked my nose.” But then again, I didn’t want to lose any friends! I could become a social nobody again! Bloody hell! I had been hijacked by social media and there was no escape! I just had to deal with every damn picture of a smiling child or some wanky reunion! I had come this far and wasn’t willing to go back to some sort of social wilderness! It was also a good way of finding out what my daughter was up to. Not that she ever accepted my request to be her friend but some of her friends became mine, so I was able to remotely monitor her consumption of vodka whilst at University!
Then one day something amazing happened. The red ‘Friend request’ flag indicated that someone wanted to make friends with me. A boring client request or an equally boring request for a job from a copper nearing retirement I thought. To my great surprise it was neither. Stephanie Hughes.
I immediately recognised her. She looked exactly as I remembered her some twenty odd years ago as a police officer at Acton. Although I only really knew her as a colleague she nonetheless had a place in my long term memory, as simply put she was beautiful! Not only in looks, but a lady of immense grace and style. In those halcyon days of my youth I had significant doubts about my prowess with the opposite sex and being a football fan I had worked out a simple format that mirrored my lack of confidence. The women I thought I had a chance with were fourth division standard. The Hartlepool’s, Rochdale’s and Tranmere Rovers. Stephanie, or Steph as I will now call her, was a combination of Real Madrid, Barcelona and Liverpool with Brazil thrown in for good measure! Furthermore, and of more consequence, there was her boyfriend and husband to be, Mark.
In terms of what I thought a cop should look like Mark had it all. Looks, stature and posture. As an ex-cadet he also had this aura of apparently knowing what he was doing. Me? A complete klutz in comparison! The first time I completed a crime report I forgot to insert the page separator and duly ruined the five reports directly underneath! When I made another mistake on a police report a kind colleague called Sharon Brown threw me a pot of Typex. I returned the favour after I had covered another mishap but it missed Sharon and hit the Station Duty Officers wall and promptly exploded all over her and the floor below!
After my first police vehicle accident I was the first guy in living history to fail the re-test and had to repeat my driving course at Hendon! Imagine a cross between Mr Bean and Stan Laurel and you had me. Similar hairstyle to the latter too! What on earth would a lady like Steph ever see in somebody like me! It was so preposterous that I didn’t even give it a second thought!
So, fast forward a couple of decades, and there she was, looking incredible, with her dogs and photogenic children. Her smile was radiant, and she looked a million dollars! In those twenty years I had changed somewhat, both in appearance and my inner self. I was completely shaven, and cool with it too I might add! I had also abandoned “I can’t do that” and totally embraced “The sky’s the limit!”
Maybe I had gone a little too far as I steamed into a Facebook conversation with Steph without any of the negative baggage that I had about myself when I was in my early twenties. I couldn’t believe that she was still so close by, and that Mark and her were no more. The real clincher was what she was doing! An investigator for one of the Metropolitan Boroughs. I hadn’t realised that she had left the police after being seriously injured and had to, more or less, bring up her children as a single mum.
She had certainly struck a chord with me and my honed confidence became a little over the top as I began to flirt with her! Steph was having none of this and told me to rely less on the testosterone approach! We exchanged mobile numbers as clearly we had a common interest in Interviewing. I remember calling her and almost immediately we struck up an amazing rapport. The slightly shy lady I met many years ago had clearly blossomed into an articulate, confident, and highly intelligent woman. I found her totally alluring and felt as if we had been friends for an eternity!
One thing led to another and to my astonishment Steph agreed to meet me after work. I will never forget her saying that ‘I would have to take her as she was!’ I knew instinctively that Steph would look stunning wrapped in a black bin bag! As the receptionist called her I didn’t know whether to sit or stand. Which one would give the best first impression? I decided to stand as it was pretty bright in the reception area and I didn’t want to blind her with my shiny pate! I hovered a little and struck up a conversation with the receptionist. Trying to look really cool I was knocked sideways when Steph breezed through the double doors. She asked me where I had parked. Did I have a car? Who was I? My brain had momentarily stopped working. Steph dressed in black looked edible! Pure elegance! The receptionist and anyone else in the locality that night simply evaporated into thin air.
We walked to a nearby coffee shop and spoke non-stop. I felt as if I had just caught up with my best buddy! Yet here I was drinking coffee with an incredibly beautiful and wonderfully vibrant lady who, in all honesty, I hardly knew. We laughed, and laughed some more, and also exchanged views on our common interest – interviewing. I just couldn’t get enough. And this was so natural, not some pre-prepared dialogue on cognitive interviewing. To have such a mutual connection with a lady whom I had nervously smiled at some two decades earlier was incredible. She had developed into the most striking lady that I had ever met. To cap it all Steph also liked football! Not an armchair pundit but one who had graced the terraces at Anfield!
On the walk back to the car park I felt a lightness in my stomach. My head kept saying “Don’t be daft” but my heart kept fooling around. Surely I couldn’t have fallen for her? This never happened to me. I was self-centred and arrogant, wasn’t I? This was silly. I felt like I was fourteen all over again, falling for my first girlfriend.
Steph sent me a text the following morning explaining that she would be shopping in Acton on the Sunday. A flurry of messages were exchanged resulting in an agreed rendezvous on the top level of a local multi-story car park. On my arrival the uppermost deck was completely clear and as I waited, a little nervously I might add, I took in the panoramic view of Acton. Shanghai, New York, Paris it wasn’t, but it wasn’t that bad! The butt of a few jokes, ‘What’s the best Road in Acton? The Road out of it!’ and ‘Acton. Twinned with Beirut’. But nonetheless this place held some pretty good memories for me. Like the time I was made acting Sergeant on my own shift and purposely walked alongside Woolworths where, allegedly, a washing detergent advert was once filmed as it contained a long series of mirrors. I looked good that day with my chevrons stitched to my tunic. They looked like bloody surfboards on my arms!
Most importantly this is where I first met my dream lady who, on cue, turned up and parked besides me. Wearing reflective shades and smiling like a Cheshire cat she looked incredible! Her look that morning was one of the casual Hollywood film star who had just popped out to buy another designer outfit or diamond necklace! The type of sophisticated lady I had imagined living in some huge mansion in Bel Air, where once I had found myself after taking the wrong turning in downtown Los Angeles, and noticed the twee signs outside of the entrance gates that simply said, “Trespassers will be shot”!
We walked to the nearby Costa and sat by the window on a sofa. This was perhaps the first time I had really appreciated her eyes. The warmth of her soul was clear to see, as was the occasional nervousness, especially when I complimented her in some way! Her ability to naturally traverse from elegant confidence to childlike vulnerability, often in the blink of an eye, was, and still is, a character trait that I simply adore. One moment feisty, confident and passionate then the next, just maybe, a little out of her depth and in need of some reassurance.
Later that night as I reflected on our coffee date I realised that mutual respect was more than something that was said, promised or inferred. Actions were the only way in which this endeavour could ever be realised. The intimacy we enjoyed without making love was the most incredible feeling ever. For me it was both highly emotional whilst also intensely confusing. I wanted to make love to Steph, to show her how I really felt, yet in reality we still hardly knew each other! I sent a text inviting her to dinner. To my relief she agreed.
Before our date I had an important mission to accomplish. Clothes. I needed to buy some decent clobber. My wardrobe was a disgrace and my fashion sense was non-existent. My vision of dressing up was a hoody, Matalan jeans and a pair of trainers that were literally falling apart. I hit the shops and £180 later I had a few things that could bring me into the twenty first century. I didn’t retire the grubby footwear but on Saturday night they remained indoors!
By six o’clock it was dark and as I entered the car park of the local restaurant it felt much later. Whilst I fiddled with my mobile Steph drove in completely unnoticed. She text me and I walked over. Every time was the same. My jaw momentarily dropped. She simply took my breath away. The date was everything I had anticipated and more. We held hands continuously and laughed and joked. Steph was on serious form and nothing was off limits. My face was described as ‘Hamster-ish’; my new shoes were targeted as well as was my apparent flat footedness as we walked back to the car park.
We both asked often how the other felt, and although I was gushing at all times Steph was more reserved. She hinted that she had a plan and that her feelings towards me were good ones! I so wanted to be able to show her that my intentions were wholly honourable. Why couldn’t I just download my most innermost thoughts onto a spreadsheet? Steph could then simply review the noughts and ones and figure out that I was genuine. Yet life and evolving relationships aren’t like that and neither should they be. I knew that Steph had a work do coming up on the following Friday, a wedding reception. I pushed her on this one. I had joked on a previous text that I wanted to put myself forward for selection. I knew that she could have chosen a number of suitors yet I so wanted to be the special one. She disclosed that she hadn’t been accompanied to a work do for the last ten years or so. I was gobsmacked. Yet I could understand. Steph had had to toughen up. She had raised two fantastically talented children, had built a wonderful home and had forged a successful career all on her own. Who needed a man to complicate a winning formula?
She loaded the details of the hotel where the reception would be held on her Blackberry and talked about staying over. Should she? Shouldn’t she? I had already mentally booked the room and was gently stroking her head as we lay on the double bed after we had enjoyed the reception and I had met her colleagues! I made my thoughts crystal clear and proceeded to justify my plan on the grounds of practicality and reasonableness. Steph maintained her posture. She would reflect on it. This was a big decision and no matter how I approached it Steph had to make this call without me around.
As I rounded the local by-pass my phone burst into life. This was the pick me up I needed. Steph had called me. She had dropped off her daughter at the railway station for her journey back to University. This event had its own emotional context and I felt compelled to tell her that I was offering up a remote hug. She laughed and talked some more about the weekend when her son too had felt somewhat deflated and had threatened to trudge off to America! How reassuring it was to note that he was a drama queen like every other bloke I knew, not forgetting me! We ended the call by wishing each other a good day.
My emotional state was in for another jolt but this time it was it was for all the right reasons. Steph sent me a text saying that she was missing me and wanted to know if I was free on Friday? My fingers trembled as I text her back yet I was still a little confused. Of course I was free but for the evening only? Or the whole night? Should I book a room? I didn’t want to assume anything! Her reply was wonderfully opened ended and quaint – “Whatever you think appropriate!” A quick call to confirm the name of the hotel and the booking was made. I felt excited yet anxious. The most beautiful girl on the planet, no, make it the Universe, wanted to spend the night with me! My stomach felt light and I tried to be professional as I chaired an operations meeting at work. I was even meant to discipline somebody, but downgraded this to a ticking off! I shared my feelings with Steph via text and asked how she felt. One word summed up it for her, and for that matter, me too – “NERVOUS!”
And then I awoke …
Dear reader I invite you to end the story in your own way. Never stop dreaming. Even the most frightening landscapes can be negotiated in your dreams. As Walt Disney observed, “If you can dream it, you can do it. Always remember that this whole thing was started with a dream and a mouse.” So, grasp your mouse and click.
© Ian Kirke 2021
Title Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash