I will never again accept an invitation to a date at a coffee shop at 3 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. Until now, I thought that this was an indication that someone wants to get to know me, without the influence of alcohol; I thought maybe we’d meet and then go to a gallery or for a walk.
No. A coffee meeting, it transpires, is what is suggested if you’re actually attending an interview. This is the actions of someone who doesn’t intend to create any kind of romantic atmosphere, and then judges you on your ability to craft romance out of nothing. Dick move.
Employment – Something in Strategy
Age – early thirties
Nationality – British
Interests – Rugby, or something, who cares
Source – OK Cupid
Anatomy – Lanky, awkward
The Story – Firstly, who the hell is called Clive? I presumed I was going to get catfished. Maybe I’d turn up and Clive would actually be a 50 year old morbidly obese guy. That didn’t happen. Bit of a shame actually, because that might of been a better story. Clive was in fact just an arrogant, boring man. I was intensively put through my conversational paces, he stopped only just short of asking for references and asking me to describe my greatest strengths and weaknesses.
Venue – Notes, Trafalgar Square
Location – Trafalgar Square, 31 St Martin’s Lane WC2N 4ER
Eating/Drinking – Regular coffee shop turns wine bar
Activities – eating/drinking
Atmosphere – Very busy at 3pm on Saturday. Packed with tourists. I wouldn’t recommend. There were just two stools to sit on.
Service – Counter
I was late, which certainly didn’t endear me to Clive. The thing is, I wasn’t expecting to be marked on such a stringent marks scheme. He made it apparent to me immediately that he had plans with his friends to watch the rugby at 5pm, so we were on a tight deadline. I was grilled on my living arrangements, whether I owned or rented (he proudly owns his flat), whether I drove, whether I was close to my family, etc etc.
He drank a peppermint tea. I don’t mean to sound judgemental, but what the fuck?
This date really confirmed for me that I’m looking to be romanced, to fall in love, to be wined and dined. I certainly do not want to be psychometrically tested, and even if I had exhibited the correct attributes, there was no way I would agree to a second interview.