We found each other on the internet; we both loved music and started chatting. After a few emails, he suggested a drink.
I was on time. I’m always on time. He was late.
He finally arrived, sweaty and unapologetic, and said he had to tell me something:
“You know, I’ve never been on a date with someone with kids before. I always knock back the single mothers straight away, I’m not into them, I’ve no interest in kids, I don’t even like them. But your picture was really nice so I thought I’d make an exception for you.”
Ah! The Date-Killer Klaxon; I’m on a date with King Herod.
Yes, I’m a single mum. I come as a package with two kids; I’m not looking for a new dad for them (they have their own perfectly good father already), but whoever I’m with has got to get on with them. It’s never going to work with someone who openly admits that he doesn’t like children.
I’m still not sure why he thought that line was a compliment in any shape or form.