And Jake says, ‘You’re never going to win.’
‘In your dreams,’ I reply, because childishly I am not going to let him have the last word this evening.
And,crap. The more I think about it, the more it’s obvious that I can’t win because Icannotconvince him that a happily-ever-after isn’t waiting around the corner for him. But, also,hecan’t win, because I know I’m not going to fall in love. Which means – terrible thought – if we’re both honest about the outcome of these dates we’re both going to be losers on a team-building weekend in Devon.
Torture.
8
JAKE
As I bite into a perfectly cooked rare steak, I admit to myself that I’m actually quite grateful to Freya for choosing this restaurant for my date with Charlotte.
Firstly, it’s a fascinating experience. It’s absolutely true that when it’s pitch-dark all your other senses are heightened. All of them. And that is interesting.
It does make a difference to how you enjoy the food. The restaurant asked about allergies and intolerances in advance, and they haven’t told us what we’re getting; they just place it in front of us and guide our hands to our cutlery. The food’s in bowls, rather than on plates, which makes it a lot easier to find with our knives and forks.
The first thing that hits you is the smell of the food, and then there’s a texture clue from how your cutlery goes into it, and then of course the taste. Eating in the dark like this demonstrates how heavily you’re influenced by visuals when you have them.
I thought it would also be very instructive not being able to see my companion at all while talking to her, but realised quickly that, once you’re opposite each other at a small table, it isn’tparticularly different from talking to someone over the phone, when you also can’t see the other person’s facial expressions or body language. (Iwillbe interested to see what Charlotte looks like, whenever I get to see her – I trust that I will – because I have of course – as one does – formed a vague idea.)
It also hasn’t taken very long to get used to the fact that there are ‘helpers’ walking around checking that everyone’s managing their food properly.
‘What are the vegetables?’ I ask Charlotte. We established quite quickly that she is better than I am at identifying meal constituents in the dark.
‘I think the sweetish, softish chunks are sweet potato, and I think there’s some salsify in there. Also some broad beans and some diced tomato.’
I nod even though she can’t see me do so. ‘Sounds right.’
I like Charlotte. Yes, she’s a friend of Freya’s, and, yes, she’s a romance author, but she’s very pleasant company. She has a very pleasant voice, too. She’s very pleasant full stop. I’m not feeling any strong attraction, but I wasn’t expecting to. Plus the presence of the helpers (whose breathing you can definitely hear at times) would inhibit intimate conversation if one were inclined to engage in it.
‘That was delicious,’ Charlotte says some time later, after we’ve finished an excellent dessert that we agree – well, Charlotte told me, and I thought she was right – was plum and almond cake with yoghurt sorbet and prunes. ‘Should we…?’
‘Yep.’
A helper immediately materialises and asks us if we arrived together and if we’d like to leave together or separately.
‘Together?’ Charlotte says. ‘I feel as though I know exactly what you look like from the TV, and I’d really like to know whether you look the same in real life.’
‘Absolutely. I’d like to know whether you look like the idea I’ve formed of you.’
‘A flattering one I trust?’ Charlotte’s smiling (I think) – you can hear it in her voice – and I laugh.
The helper leads us out of the pitch-dark room and into a dimly lit area, where we blink a lot.
‘From what I can see, youdolook like you.’ Charlotte’s peering at me.
Charlotte seems to be medium height, blonde and beautiful.
‘And you look pretty much as I imagined,’ I say.
‘Let’s both take that as compliments.’
‘Good idea.’ I grin at her, thinking that I’d like to see her again, but only as friends; she’s lovely but I haven’t felt a romantic connection. Plus I just don’t think I have space in my life for romance right now. It’s something for the future.
We then go into a slightly less dimly lit room and so on until we’re in regular light. And, yes, Charlotte is indeed blonde, beautiful and medium height.
‘Good to meet you,’ I say.
