Remember I had lunch with a much younger man a few years ago at Rudding Park country house hotel and spa? I had liked him. He paid for lunch and told me he had, after a long drive from just outside Cambridge, got changed in the hotel car park.
I can’t remember why we never met again, or even what he does for a living. I think it was the distance, him being too young. He sent a photo of his garden and, for some weird reason, the gazebo put me off.
He did, though, text me a few months after that lunch when he was on holiday with a group of male friends in New York. He sent a screenshot, showing me he was a few yards from the apartment block where Carrie lived until she married Mr Big.
I had been a bit mean, replying, ‘Hi, who is this?’
Anyway, on Thursday night he drunk texted me. Turned out he was on a train home from London and his phone sent a voice recording by mistake. ‘Are we stopping? This service is stopping. You should be fine, safe, yes.’
He then texted for real, apologising that he had been talking to two female passengers, reassuring them as it was late, and his phone had accidentally transcribed a voice note. ‘I was trying to put their minds at rest.’ He obviously had my messages open. ‘For the past few weeks, I have wanted to give you unapproving eyes!’
Me: ‘I don’t understand that.’
Him: ‘David 1.0. The German.’
Me: ‘Oh, no, I’m not going back there. To either of them.’
Him: ‘How are you feeling?’
Me: ‘I am OK, thank you. Making progress on my house. Off to Turkey soon.’
Him: ‘Getting Turkey teeth?’
Me: ‘Already have those. Just a mini break.’
Him: ‘I’ve retired from dating. Two dates in the past nine months. First one looked nothing like her photos. Other one went well but she thought her boss wouldn’t approve; nothing sinister, just it would have been inappropriate. I like you a lot. I know it’s not been easy. I think you are a little bit special. I do care. But I’m no good at DIY!’
Me: ‘Thank you. Safe journey.’
He went on: ‘You are so stylish. More than that, but I don’t know the word. I’ve booked an Uber. I could end up in any car that opens its door!’
Later… ‘Made it home! I was wearing a nice top. I do always think, when I get dressed, ‘Would Liz like it?’ I bought a Twix at the station. Found out as I was texting you that I dropped some on my shorts. Luckily missed the nice top! Are you dating?’
Me: ‘No, after the lying, cheating narcissistic scumbag – bitter, moi? – I have sworn off men completely. It’s too exhausting. I do think men can’t cope with me. They get chippy and resentful. They are jealous of my dogs, horses, career. They feel small, so they act out.’
Him: ‘I’ve read your column for 20 years. The German was ill. You should have asked me first! No charge! You are attractive, successful, headstrong. Not all men like that. See you in London some time. Let me know when you are free. Not the River Cafe or Five Guys.’
What on earth is Five Guys*?
Him: ‘Your choice, I will look after the rest.’
Proactive. Tick!
Me: ‘Of course, let’s do it.’
Him: ‘Are there any vegan champagne bars in Mayfair? Night, night. A Liz thought always helps me sleep!’ Heart emoji.
Well, gals, what do we all think? I am trying to remember what he looks like. I could scroll back through his messages, but can I really be bothered? Thing is, I don’t think that, unlike the German, he has any sharp edges. And I’m slightly thinking that’s what I want…
*Ah, it’s a burger bar. I thought it would be some sort of Magic Mike strip joint
JONES MOANS… WHAT LIZ LOATHES THIS WEEK
- After 47 years, never missing an issue, I have cancelled my subscription to Vogue magazine. Despite 18 long months of begging, they refuse to acknowledge my change of address for the physical copy, and I can’t access the runway collections as that costs more. So, goodbye Vogue. You moulded my taste and filled my head with dreams, but I’m afraid you have been dumped…
