First date frustrations

To begin, I dislike the concept of 'dating' - of setting aside specific time slots to be with a particular person, easing them into a schedule around work and tennis matches and evening classes that lead to yet another utterly pointless qualification. (Diverging slightly, I always liked the remarks on the back of a card I received once. The picture was of a rather tired looking teddy bear, and the caption read something approximating, 'Albert was so shy that he signed up for a course of Assertiveness classes, and on the first evening he walked into the wrong room and can now Get By In Spanish').

Anyhow, yes, from the outset I don't like the general attitude that exists today with regard to dating, an attitude that is born out of a society that has gotten its priorities and values slightly mixed up. I am not suggesting that everyone suddenly forget their responsibilities and leave work in the middle of the day to go gallivanting around the countryside with their hot new secretary; there are few things that annoy me more than people not doing a job properly - days off for what amounts to nothing more dramatic than The Sniffles would soon be stopped if 'sick leave' didn't exist. The fundamental problem is that if you want to have a traditional job, you will necessarily be tied down with some form of timetable, thus the only options available for spending time with another bod are strictly limited to evenings and weekends.

The immediate thought of the majority of people proposing a date with someone is to invite them to dinner. Possibly, if they're being dramatic, dinner will be preceded by a visit to the cinema. Problems with this scheme? Oh, endless... I don't classify sitting in a crowded room having my eardrums blasted senseless as spending Quality Time Getting to Know Someone - the classic argument when I mention this to people is that, well, it gives the couple something to talk about. Dear God, if you need to rely on a series of moving pictures to induce conversation, you should seriously consider popping out and seeing the world to form some vaguely original opinions on something that matters. Borrow shamelessly from others if you must, sit and quote the latest comments in the Economist if you feel that improves your standing in the eyes of anyone else, but you'll be found out eventually. Seriously. Moving onto the dinner... Who chooses the place? What are the chances of you liking the same kind of food? Hell, how tedious to bond over something like a shared admiration for Italian food! Food - and I hate to rain on the parades of many by saying this - is merely fuel. That is all it is. It gets you from one day to the next.

So now, you're sat in a restaurant with someone you barely know. You've established they also think Tom Hanks movies are wonderful, and that you have a shared passion for French cuisine - my word, you're destined to be together for sure. As you sit there firmly on your best behaviour, if only because you are in public, you have to concentrate hard on not getting spaghetti sauce all over your shirt in addition to maintaining a constant stream of lively chat. I don't know how people stand the pressure, or can be bothered to put themselves through such a ritual on endless occasions - all in pursuit of the possibility of finding 'the love of their life'. I think it would be a thoroughly depressing thing to look back on, to think that my Grand Romance started in a crowded room smelling of popcorn and moving onto an equally as crowded room, worriedly dabbing at the corners of my mouth after every mouthful and charging to the bathroom constantly to check pieces of greenery haven't lodged themselves between my teeth. This should be the first night of the rest of your life, not another evening that blends seamlessly into so many others.

There is no guidebook that comes with life: books such as 'The Rules' which offer suggestions to women on how, essentially, to convince some poor sod of a guy that he wants to be with them, should be banned. When did it become understood that 'dinner and drinks' was an acceptable way of introducing yourself to another? Is that really all you are: someone who can sit appropriately in a bar and consume a beverage suitable to the occasion while engaging in polite conversation about your 'interests'? The majority of people, I find, even go armed with suitably entertaining snippets to drop in lightly throughout the course of the evening - the 'date' is, in effect, a routine, a part that has been played out on many previous occasions.

Dating, in the conventional sense of the word, is all very well I suppose for conventional people. At times, I manage to fool myself into believing I could survive in a conventional version of society, that I too could play the game. But after a while I always get frustrated with the rules and become someone who is - so I'm told - impossible to handle. I go through life, I like to think, as if I mean it. When I find myself in a stale situation I acknowledge it and break free: I only get one chance on this earth, and I've little intention of squandering it. When I go through phases of being depressed, it is invariably because I've made the mistake of worrying about the 'tomorrow'. No wonder the majority of people like the conventions a society provides them with: everything down to how you pass time with someone you could spend the rest of your life with is ordered and prescribed. How tedious such lives must be, so lacking in spontaneity and genuine emotions. People have Issues with my emotions: they appear at inconvenient times and upset the balance of things. Why do you need to be surrounded with carbon copies of yourself? Why is anything beyond the ordinary, the commonplace, so difficult to handle?

In terms perhaps those conventionals out there can relate to: life is so much more than a greasy bag of fish and chips. It is a candlelit dinner beneath a star studded sky; a banquet in a room of chandeliers and elegance when this is beyond your means; the lingering kiss retrieving melted chocolate from a lover's navel. Life is tastes and sensations you have never had before, piled one after the other in a never ending jumbled sequence of ecstasy and pain. And if you disagree or don't understand, chances are you are the Conventional to whom I refer.

'Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary.'