As any runner will know,
the second leg of the race is a little like this:
1. You begin it with a
sense of positivity – euphoria even – because you aren't feeling half as bad as
you thought you would
2. Gradually, bit-by-bit,
you start to become exhausted and achy in places where you didn't know
it was possible to ache
3. You hit the 'wall' and
begin cursing everything and everyone and wondering why the hell you decided to
do this in the first place.
4. Denial: after the race
ends, you forget all of the exhausting moments of the race and commit to doing
it all over again
Needless to say, it's time
to recount my second date with Marathon Man and true to roots of our dating
beginnings, the second leg stayed true to running form. Moving away from the
realm of exercise, for our second date Marathon Man suggested going to
"Frühlingsfest"– a smaller version of Oktoberfest in springtime, with
beer tents and a funfair. I thought this was a great idea (I'm not going to
lie, I was conjuring up scenes of the Notebook, imagining Marathon Man hanging
from a Ferris wheel like Ryan Gosling), maybe he wasn't boring and soul-less
after all. There's also an important point that needs to be mentioned about
what is worn to the festival – traditional dress: Dirndls for girls and
Lederhosen for boys. Yes, it was only the second date and I was going to be
getting my boobs out – no shame.
The date began somewhat
well – he looked good in his Lederhosen and commented on how pretty I looked
(was this the same arrogant/shy man as date one?) However, like the second leg
of a run, this was the euphoric moment and it could only go downhill from here.
It's no secret that I look
for a man who is able to take charge of the situation. It's not that I can't –
in fact I'm usually a control freak – but when it comes to dating I like a guy
to at least take the lead in the beginning (yes I'm old fashioned and
non-feminist, but so what?) Despite being able to lead a pack in the race
though, Marathon Man wouldn't be capable of leading a passive toy dog on a
leash. He couldn't decide which tent to go to, couldn't find the tent he did
end up deciding he wanted to go to, couldn't decide where to sit and couldn't
get the attention of any waiter to order drinks – to the point where the guys
sitting next to us ended up ordering drinks for us. I'm not cold and heartless
and ruthless though – despite him being inept at all of these things, I decide
not to write him off (particularly not when I probably dented his pride by asking
directions to the tent, asking the boys if we could share their table when we
couldn't find a seat, and ordering the drinks with the waitress). It must be
noted that he didn't pay for the beers, but that's ok, they are expensive there
so I didn't think much of that.
So here are the main 4
catastrophes of a terrible second date:
1. Insulting my job. Yes,
he went there. Marathon Man –the boring consultant, not even a vaguely exciting
one – insulted my job. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not being bigheaded here,
but as jobs go, I like to think mine is one of the more interesting ones to
talk about. As a magazine editor I get to write about and visit great places
all the time! So in response to his question about what I did, I replied
"I'm an editor for online luxury lifestyle magazines". His reply:
" I don't like online magazines. I don't see the point and so I don't read
them. If anything I read print magazines, but even those are dying out." I
was shocked. Dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say. Not only did he insult my
profession, but also suggested that my industry is dying. DYING?! I expected
him to soften the blow of his previous statement, but he didn't. He changed the
topic and didn't ask anymore about my job. He instead changed the topic to his
current consultancy project: making morphine drips in hospitals drip the drug
into patients at a more efficient rate. Now this is, of course, a worthy pursuit that will help the world in someway, but his arrogance, patronising and paint-drying way of explaining it to me made me want to take a quick nap. It also made me want to practice my boxing skills too, as he presented himself as saviour of the world while I was a mere journalist in his eyes – an online journalist at that. Unfortunately at this point I
couldn't scream "I'm a celebrity, get me out of here!"
2. Going on a ride without
me. As we were wandering around the funfair I could see him eyeing up the big,
crazy ride. I used to be a ride junkie, but since getting labyrinthitis at 16 I
now suffer from vertigo on funfair rides that swing me here, there and
everywhere. After telling him I couldn't go on it but I was happy to go on the
dodgems or something, or if he really wanted to he could go on it and I'd wait,
he chose the latter. I stood there like a mother holding his coat, glasses and
bag that he had dumped on me before leaving to run and join the queue.
3. Being an arrogant g••.
After waiting for him to act like the big man on the big ride (wonder what he's
making up for there?), I suggested going on the go-karts. Now, maybe it’s just
me being naive, but I thought that any man would be over the moon if a girl
wanted to go on the go-karts with him. Not Marathon Man. When I suggested that
it would be really fun to go on them when passing by, he smirked and said:
"You mean those go-karts? Really?’ I said, "Yes, why? It will be fun!”
His response? "I don't think so, I went on a real go-karting track the
other week and so I would find this really basic and boring – too simple for
me." And so we walked on.
4. Being too tight to buy
me a sausage. After being in his company for nearly 3 hours (sadly I had to be
as I was meeting a friend at the festival afterwards, so he knew I had nowhere else I
needed to be but there at the festival), we were both hungry. Now, I didn't expect him to get
me a beer at 8 euros, but a sausage for 2 euros? Surely he could stretch to
that being that I had endured his presence for such a long time? Surely a
sausage? No. In fact, he even went to a different stand to me to buy exactly
the same kind of sausage, probably just to avoid having to pay.
So, by now I had definitely
been through all of the stages of the second leg of a race. No. Wait. Not all
of them … denial was still left.
So my friend arrived to
meet us and Marathon Man chatted with us a little before finally leaving. Then,
the fatal moment happened. My friend really liked him. She thought he was
great! Instead of sticking to my guns I let her positivity infiltrate the last
3 hours I had endured and that, combined with the knowledge I acquired on that
day about him only coming out of a 7 year relationship a year ago, made my
anger turn to pity. Maybe he was just struggling to date?
Maybe...maybe...maybe. Note to self: however lovely your friends are, they may
not always know what is best.
Needless to say I ended up
going on a third – and thankfully final – date with MM. It was in a beer garden,
where he again didn't buy me as much as a sausage while recounting his
'holiday' to me and boring me with the 114 photos taken on his phone. His
'holiday' was a TransAlp mountain biking trip from Salzburg to Lake Garda. This
guy was sport crazy with the personality of a stone.
I left as quickly as I
could, to never see him again and thanking the German Lord that I was single.
Things I have learnt? Avoid adrenaline junkie, consultant Austrians from
Salzburg – unless you are happy to fork out 2 euros for a Bratwurst and enjoy the
pleasure of bad company.
