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With her sitting next to me, for me, I’m sure it will be over pretty sharpish. I should have sat next to Leila – not because she’s unattractive, but because the look on her face when I’m in her orbit would scare away any man.
Men are assigned a starting table and the clock starts ticking. We’re actually assigned a few minutes with each man but I’m still sure that’s not enough time for me to turn on the charm. Still, I’m willing to try.
First up is Jack. He’s tall with spiky brown hair and brown eyes so big I keep thinking something has surprised him.
‘So, Jack, what do you do?’ I ask him. Stupid, dull question. Is that really the best I’ve got?
‘For work?’ he replies.
It would be a very broad question if I didn’t mean for work.
‘For work,’ I repeat back to him.
‘I’m a recruiter,’ he replies.
‘What do you recruit?’ I ask.
‘People for jobs,’ he says simply.
I had already figured that out, I just thought perhaps he might work in a special field, or offer up more information, something for me to bounce off. This is going to be a long few minutes.
‘Cool,’ I reply. I give him a moment to ask me what I do but he doesn’t actually say anything, he just glances next to me, to see who the next person is. Not only has he written me off already but now that he’s noticed the hot blonde to my left, Jack is clearly counting down the seconds.
‘I’m a teacher,’ I tell him.
‘Oh, so that means you want kids?’ he replies. He seems almost annoyed by the (assumed) fact. I didn’t think I could turn him off any more but here we are.
‘It means Iteachkids,’ I correct him.
‘Never been a big fan of kids, myself,’ Jack says with a shrug. ‘I don’t see what the fuss is all about.’
‘Yeah, I suppose, largely, people do it to continue the human race,’ I point out. ‘Never been a big fan of humans myself, though.’
Jack stares at me.
‘Was that a joke?’ he asks.
Less so by the second.
‘Yep,’ I reply simply.
Jack, clearly fed up with talking to me, picks up his full pint and raises it to his lips. He begins slowly chugging it, clearly not stopping until he’s had every last drop, but really savouring the process, taking as long as humanly possible until…
The bell. Time to move on.
Next up is Carey. He’s blond, he’s eager, he’s got a notebook with him.
‘Ball sports?’ is his opening line.
‘Ball sports?’ I repeat back to him.
‘Ball sports,’ he says again. ‘Ball sports!’
He nods, as though I’m expected to answer some kind of question.
‘What, do I like them?’ I reply. ‘Watching or playing?’
‘Playing,’ he says, frustrated that I’m only just getting the hang of what I’d imagine are supposed to be quick-fire questions.
