Lordy.

So, the date – how was it? Oh, you know, fine, we had drinks at Bar Soho (we had to sit outside since, being Friday evening, and him wanting to meet me at the ridiculously early time of 7.15, all of Soho was rammed, which would have been ok except for the ‘decorative’ palm trees they have by the doors (why?), the fronds of which kept attacking me every time I leaned forward in my chair), then we went to have dinner at a little Turkish restaurant, which he waxed lyrical about – the food was fine, but the restaurant staff seemed to be trying their level best to win ‘the surliest waiters in all of London’ award. Don’t get me wrong, there’s some pretty stiff competition for that award, but these guys were serious contenders. However, all that was fine, and conversation was flowing fairly well, so we decided to go for drinks after the restaurant….

So, we’re chatting, and covering all manner of topics, as you do, and then he casually throws into the conversation that he was gay for ten years, but ‘thinks’ he is straight now. In case anyone missed that, it was TEN YEARS. 10 years. T-e-n y-e-a-r-s. So that’s that.

Oh, don’t tell me, I know what you’re thinking: I’m so picky, right? Sheesh.