Twelve Contender Boatman

I met Twelve Contender Boatman through Singles for Sloanes. In Sloane Square, naturally. He very quickly tells me that he is semi- retired (an accountant) and that he is searching for a companion to travel round the Alps this winter with him. In his spanking new four wheel drive Beamer, staying in chalets and skiing. Doesn’t sound too bad a life. I wonder if the dull accountant talk is worth it. Then he tells me that he has a 38 foot boat in Poole (where his other house is) and that he has just sailed to France for a week in it. Mmm I thinks to myself (it's not the first time I’ve impersonated Sherlock) – he didn’t sail that on his own.

‘Who did you go with?’ I ask.

‘A female friend’, he replies- but he’d only just met her. They didn’t get on. Her idea of sailing was to loll about below decks. Sound about right to me unless it’s sunny, in which case of course you loll about on the deck.

Anyway, I then inquire, tongue in cheek, as to how many women he’s got on the go at the moment.

‘O only about a dozen’ he airy replies. ‘Though not all of them are strong contenders. There is one girl who is though. She’s quite reserved. ‘

‘More reserved than you.’ he goes on to says, unsolicited. ‘I think you might be a bit much for me’.

 I forbear to mention that I haven’t actually applied for the post. We talk about our planned and past holidays and I agree to meet him again. I’m not sure why. I think it’s a bit like listening to Tony Blackburn or watching Crossroads. You can’t believe how awful it is and so it becomes compelling. And anyway I’ve been drinking. Most guys look all right after I’ve had two.

Date Two he tells me that he has now been to Berlin with the strongest contender. She is now out of the running on the grounds that she has too much money and doesn’t want to experience life. Her idea of a good time is one exclusive chalet, a private jet and your own butler. Beamers are way too shoddy. Twelve Contender wants me to agree that this is not the sort of life that one should aspire to. I lie.

He seems quite interesting. Or is it just a continuation of Tony Blackburn Syndrome? I have imbibed three cocktails. So say I’ll see him again. But I tell him it will have to be a birthday meal as it will be my birthday week.

Date Three dawns -the alcohol effect seems to have waned. He is lethargic and uncomfortable. The same stories told for the third time are beginning to lose their enchantment. He whines through the whole meal about his problems trying to decide what to do with his new Chelsea pad. I ask him if he is depressed but he thinks not. And he makes me pay for my meal.

I send him a text when I get home: ‘You think you’re upset. It might have been your birthday and someone might have forgotten’.