I must have impressed her on that first date, because she agreed to go out with me again. Dating days or bachelorhood only lasted about three years for me.
I don’t remember ever being short of a date, they seemed to just come along in the course of being a teenager with a job, money and a car. Well, an old car, a van actually: a 1954 Morris Oxford van – a big green beast – ideal for carrying mates around to rugby, to parties and to carry supplies for those parties.
It had a couple of seats in the back, old seats out of some other old heap, jerry-bolted into the floor. Vans were easy to buy then. You had to put a half-deposit down for a car but only a third-deposit for a van, so plenty of young guys had them.
It was a tidy van – well, in the front anyway, where any date sat.
It beat having to catch the bus or train everywhere, very uncool with a date.
As is usual with many young people, most dates come and go for a while. It is all about finding out about other people in a way. Girls in my case. I went to a boys’ school so real girls, not sisters, were a bit of a mystery to me, a mystery I was very keen to solve. Over 50 years later, I am still working on that one.
I had a mate then who was always asking girls out. He’d ask any girl. He wasn’t desperate, he was a good-looking dude. But he seemed to always ask girls who would refuse to go out with him unless their girlfriend could come too, perhaps with a friend of his. I didn’t mind blind dates, no biggie. A few hours in someone’s company, a new person to meet and talk to, keep it simple. Don’t get ahead of oneself.
He knew this, so I was always his best mate prior to any upcoming hotly anticipated date with the new Miss Right. Also I had the van. He only had Shanks’ pony and a bus ticket.
The first time I ever ate in a restaurant, I was 19 and on one of these dates. I remember it well: Maximes in Courtenay Place in Wellington. Quite posh, by my standards. I was your sort of fish and chip or hamburger kind of guy. My mate liked to impress his dates and also help me spend my money as a result. Going Dutch wasn’t in his scheme of things; he liked to flash the green.
I cannot remember what we ate, except for a shrimp cocktail. Restaurants back then are not like they are now and nowhere near as numerous. Being a well-brought-up chap, I knew my knives and forks and what hand to use a fork in. I could also dance, something learned at college, proper dancing. That always impressed the dates. They knew they’d go home with their feet and shoes intact.
The most unusual date I ever had is still a complete mystery to me. Another mate came up to me one day and said he had seen this girl at a party who asked after me. She had gone to the opposite girls’ school to our school so had seen me around at school stuff and socials. She asked my mate to get me to ring her and gave him her phone number.
I sort of placed her but had never spoken to her. I didn’t think she even knew I existed. I rang this young lady on the landline (no iPhones in those days). We chatted for a while and I thought she sounded nice, so I asked her out to the pictures.
The night arrived. I rocked up to meet her and her parents, always the case in those days with the girls I dated, for some reason. I think the parents wanted to check me over; I might have been too rough. Anyway, we got into the green van and off to the pictures. Apart from polite greetings and stilted conversation nothing was said.
I paid for the movies and bought her an icecream at halftime. After the pictures, I drove her home and that was that. We didn’t speak. I tried to open conversation but it all just wilted away. Never saw her again.
I think she thought I was someone else. Imagine the shock when she opened the door and saw me standing there. Poor girl.
