He’s right, of course. I’m well aware of my story and soon enough the World Wide Web will be too. But that doesn’t make that story any easier to share without delving into weird, personal details of my life. What is the etiquette when it comes to sharing your life with people you met mere hours ago? I’m pretty notorious for getting the balance wrong and either being too cold and unapproachable, or too open a book.
‘Why areyouhere?’ I ask.
His eyebrow lifts, clocking the diversion right away, but he thankfully doesn’t press any further. Instead, he leans across the table and beckons me closer.
‘I ran away,’ he says coldly, before sipping his drink.
He draws the motion out, delighting in the way I hang on his words. I have every mind to lean back again and feign disinterest, but it’s fun watching him revel.
‘It’s the typical bachelor story – all of my friends are settling down and being the seventh wheel was getting kind of boring. Plus, they constantly nag at me about it.’
He leans back again and gulps some beer down with ferocity.
‘Why are they nagging?’ I ask.
He pauses for a moment, a darkness flitting across his eyes. He’s holding back – of course he is. We’ve only just met. I drop my own eyes and start to brainstorm ways to move the conversation out of a clearly intrusive question and back to something light. But before I can, he clears his throat and takes another sip of beer before looking back to me with a clear and firm expression.
‘I’ve never had a long-term relationship. They think I date too much and that I am getting “too old” for that life. They’re all just so stuck in their wedding-and-baby talk that they don’t understand that it doesn’t justhappenfor everyone.’ He pauses to swallow harshly. ‘I was going through a bit of a rough time before I left, which probably contributed to why I kicked off when my mate told me I can’t bring a date to his wedding unless she’s a serious girlfriend. After the year I’ve had, I can’t think of anything worse than going alone to a wedding, surrounded by a table of loved-up couples.’
I can’t help but linger on one phrase – ‘after the year I’ve had’. He grew tenser as he said it, his eyes briefly darting away from mine. I want to ask what he means, but it doesn’t seem like the time. We barely made it through my last personal question; it’s best to keep it surface-level.
‘So, you don’t want a serious girlfriend?’ I ask.
‘Nah, it’s not that at all,’ he rushes to say. ‘I just don’t know if I know how to do serious – at least, not in the way they all seem to do it. I thought maybe being somewhere new, with new places and people, might help me learn a bit.’
‘Okay, got it.’ I nod. ‘So, what you’re saying is, you came to Europe to find yourself?’
I feel the corner of my mouth curl up into a mocking smirk. He mirrors it in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.
‘Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m saying, but in a less wanky way.’
I lift my glass. He lifts his. We drink to his only somewhat wanky mission.
I confess post-gulp. ‘I’m here to write a column. It’s a new one for a big travel magazine. They’re paying me to be here and it could launch my writing career, so it’s kind of a big deal.’
His face lights up so ecstatically that it washes me with warmth.
‘That’s amazing! Tell me more.’
‘It’s a dating column.’
‘Travelling and dating. Fun.’ He sips. I sigh.
‘Kind of, I guess. Honestly, I feel like it’s going to be a lot of stress and time, and very little fun.’ I shrug. ‘They wanted something high stakes and flirty, so I kind of volunteered to go on eighty dates.’
This stops him mid-gulp, spluttering in his tracks as he chokes on stray droplets of his beer.
‘Eighty? Eight, zero?’
‘Yes, eighty dates,’ I say, unblinking.
‘That’s a lot of dates.’
‘I’m aware.’ I feel my back start to go up. ‘I called it “Around the World in Eighty Dates” for the fun word play, but now I’m kind of committed to eighty dates.’
‘Right, so Europe is just the starting point.’
I look back at him, confused.
