‘Well, as good as. It sounds bad, right?’
‘Yeah, you don’t want to say that, not on a first date. It makes you look boring.’
‘The wine list, sir.’
Sir looks faintly puzzled. I suspect he doesn’t drink either.
‘What do you like?’
Tap water is my usual tipple. Light-bodied, with chlorine notes.
‘Ermmm…well, I guess we should decide what we’re eating, and go from there?’
Because then we’ll have a much better idea. Not.
Food ordered, the sommelier comes over to assist. I’m prepared to bet he’s never seen two such vacant faces staring up at him. We smile and nod, pretend to weigh up the options. A quick price comparison settles the question.
The wine tastes like, well, wine, so in that respect we’ve made a good choice.
Come the end of the meal, conversation is proving something of a challenge for these two very occasional drinkers. We stumble out on to the pavement and start to wend our way towards the train station. It’s cold and drizzling. We huddle together under the umbrella. I start trying to form a question but my brain is struggling.
He kisses me. And it’s not boring in the slightest.