In the run up to Valentine’s Day this year, I’m marking the occasion by sharing a golden sample of my illustrious dating experiences.
A few years ago, I was seeing C and realised that Valentine’s Day was pending. I was reluctant to do anything at all, but when we talked about it one morning during the commute, he cried “We must!” in a voice too loud for a packed tube, and took it upon himself to make the plans for evening.
Knowing that I like both food and theatre (and probably in that order), he surprised me first with a meal. At McDonalds. Apparently it was an “anti-Valentine’s meal” – a stand against commercialism – which caused (him) much amusement.
Afterwards, we went to see a lengthy play by Harold Pinter. In the warm theatre, and after having stuffed himself with a burger, fries, onion rings and a chocolate milkshake, it wasn’t long before C dozed off, and for the first act, Pinter’s infamously long pauses were punctuated with loud snores from the Upper Gallery.