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John31 was keen. He sent a deluge of texts to me. He wanted to engage. Or so it seemed. Texting is a wonderful tool, however there does come a time when verbal communication needs to be employed, let alone face-to-face exchanges. The time did come eventually for the verbal touch. But let us backtrack a little.
John31 invited me, per text, for lunch on the Saturday. I explained (per text) that I was tied up until 3pm but was free from then on that day. John31 was seemingly mortified as he had a tea (yes, a tea) arrangement that afternoon with an old girl friend (friend, he said)which he should not cancel. "Absolutely do not cancel!", said I. Who cancels an arrangement to meet a total stranger? I said we could meet for an early evening drink instead. He didn't bite and no plan was made.
I am on the rugby field at the crack of dawn the next morning. Watching, that is. Son and heir doing his thing. I received three texts whilst I was watching one short school boy match. I don't answer my mobile telephone when I am busy engaging in an activity. Because I am engaging in the activity. Funny that. Not so for all.
John31 wanted to meet for breakfast. Now. Clearly John31 had amnesia, or short-term memory issues or lacked concentration skills. I recalled mentioning that I was free from 3pm that day. The other texts he sent were those irritating PINGS one used to get on a Blackberry as a means of alerting one to the prior text. Like I didn't hear it the first time. I wrote back and reminded John31 that I was free from 3pm. "How about an early lunch? Say, at noon?" he asked. I was beginning to doubt myself. I reread my most recent text. No, I was not going mad. John31 was. "I am free from 3pm", I repeated. For the third time!
When I left my last engagement at 2.45pm (hence my being free from 3pm!) I had three missed calls from John31. Carpe diem. I called John31. Yes, a verbal interchange took place. Progress. John31 and I had a lovely, lively chat and he suggested dinner at 7pm at the local near his home (so he could walk, clearly his needs are paramount, I noted). Early warning signal picked up. I was pleased this was coming to a head so to speak. All the too'ing and fro'ing texting is hard work if it doesn't have an end in sight.
I drove home. All of 10 minutes it took me. I walked in the door and I received a text. From John31. He asked if he could cancel dinner as he was very tired and needed to rest. "That was a quick about turn!" I replied. Besides, he replied, he did not think we would be a good match as he could tell from our call that I was far too "vivacious" (quote) for him. He likes quiet, demure, retiring women. Fair enough.
I wrote back that that was fine! Then I dropped a little bomb: I mentioned to him that he actually knew me. We were at school together. He was two years ahead of me. My father was his family doctor. And I cited my maiden name.
He called me. Within a split second. It's you! Oh, but you're lovely! You are ... (and he added a plethora of marvellous adjectives which I shall omit in case the reader deems me arrogant, they were all, of course, true!). He had not recognised my married surname and did not put two and two together! John31 wanted to dine. He asked to resurrect the dinner arrangement. He begged. Literally whining. Like my kids used to when they wanted sweets in the aisle at Pick 'n Pay. Serious whining. "Pahleeeeeeease!", he wailed.
"No John31, I am that "vivacious" girl you were not enamoured with half an hour ago! And, guess what John31, I don't do quiet, demure or retiring! And I never shall!"
John31 and I did meet, a few years later, but that is another story!