It’s George. How have I not noticed he’s here? He’s one table ahead of Franco Phillipe three-names.
My next date arrives at such a slow pace it’s as if the action of having to move from table to table is fatiguing him.
I glance at George and our eyes meet, but he’s busy chatting to my beautiful table neighbour.
‘Hi, I’m Edward. Do you come here often?’ My date chuckles and offers his hand to shake.
For the rest of the three minutes, conversation continues easily with this Edward. On the whole, he is nicer than many of the forty-five dates I’ve previously been on. If I were to slip to the toilet now, he seems gentlemanly enough to actually notice. But the comfortable ease with which I’m managing to chat to him is partly down to my mind being elsewhere. For the three-minute date and the remaining three that follow, I’m mostly focussing on George and why he’s here.
When the bell for the final date goes, my heart skips a beat. There’s a long pause, as if time slows down, until George lands in the chair opposite me. Foolishly, I miss the opportunity to see if my heart jumps.
‘Rather conveniently, Clive didn’t mention you would be here.’
It’s more awkward than the seven previous introductions I’ve encountered. ‘He didn’t say you’d be here either.’
‘Is this what they class as a set-up?’
‘I’m sorry I’m a wasted date,’ I say.
‘Don’t apologise. You’re the poor girl who spent most of last weekend with me. I can’t imagine you want another three minutes.’
‘Oh my gosh! Is he your ex?’ another table neighbour asks, clearly not busy enough with her date.
The prying question shocks me, and in a rare moment of spontaneity, I decide to shock her back. ‘Yes, he is. But as you heard… he can’t last three minutes. It’s why we can’t be together.’ I’m not sure what has got into me, but it seems like the correct thing to serve to someone who has been listening in to what should be a private conversation.
‘Incorrect,’ George says, playing along. ‘It was three minutes, twenty-seven seconds at my peak. But if you will time me and put that added pressure on me…’
I can’t help but laugh at George’s retort and the look of shock on everybody’s face within listening distance.
‘Maybe we should try again. Maybe if you think you can make the full three minutes and thirty seconds, there’s a chance for us.’
More of the daters are listening in now.
‘Will you throw the egg timer away for me? Will you take that pressure off? I’m just not sure I’ll ever be able to perform to that length unless I can do it without knowing how many more seconds I need to go on for.’
‘I will. But only if you’ll come with me now and prove to me that you can go the whole three minutes and thirty seconds. I don’t believe you, you see.’
‘For you. Anything.’ George stands up so quickly that his chair topples over. ‘Take my hand. We must make this our mission.’
Tess is watching, the bell hanging loosely in her hand, neglecting her role as timer.
I take George’s hand, knocking my chair over in the process. ‘Here? Or shall we wait until we’re home?’
The look of horror on Tess’s face is enough to make me want to chortle. But I manage to keep a straight face.
‘Let’s get home, darling. I’m so glad this brought us together again.’
I don’t manage to glance back at any more of the expressions, instead rushing out of the café holding on to George’s hand and we manage to rush to the end of the street before falling into peals of laughter.
‘Honestly, who does that?’ I can barely breathe, our little production having made me laugh so hard.
‘I’m glad we made her blush.’
The laughter is continuing to tumble out of me and for the first time in my life I appear to have a stitch from the activity. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to spontaneous and there’s a freeing quality to it. One that I like. I can hardly believe it.
‘And I’d just like to point out if we ever—’ George pauses, the giggles beginning to ebb away. ‘Well, it would last a whole lot longer than three minutes and thirty seconds.’
It’s my turn to blush. ‘I should bloody well hope so.’ Because for all my failures in finding a boyfriend, I know plenty about how that part of a relationship goes.