Following the death of Queen Elizabeth II and the coronation of her son and heir, King Charles III, the public holiday on the second Monday of June that is celebrated in most Australian states was rebranded to the King’s birthday. As it was another day off, I used that time to meet up with suitor number 10. 

Honestly, when the dating gets going, it’s like back to back dates. And when times are slow, it’s as dry as a parched watering hole in the middle of an El Nino drought.

Not that I think this is something I want. Dating is hard and every time it feels like I’m at a job interview, being vetted to see if I’d be good dating material (spoilers: I’m not). Everything is so artificial and forced that it’s a wonder that anyone is eve able to relax and let their guard down.

My immediate reservations about dating aside, texting Mr White Coat was a challenge in and of itself. While I may not have inserted questions for him to respond to, I did prime most of my responses with openings that he could have used to pose a question about my interests or provide his own example to possibly relate to. But as with all instances of my inability to communicate well (at least according to one of my friends), he either did not pick up on those cues or he just decided to stop chatting for a good few days before asking something else entirely.

It truly can be hard to have an engaging conversation between minds when people either don’t commit to the bit (occasionally failing to realise there’s a bit) or they just go silent for days on end. Not that I’m complaining. It’s always time I can put towards gaming.

But when it all comes down to it, the crux of my issue with Mr White Coat was the fact that he was a poor online conversationalist. Beyond that, the way he attempted to ask me out truly irritated me to no end. And I’m sure, dear readers, that you are mightily curious of what this poor man has done to earn my ire. Well, then, I shall oblige.

Let me build the scene:

We had chatted for a couple of weeks. During our chats, I established early that I didn’t drink alcohol because I didn’t like the taste. I may have possibly mentioned that I didn’t drink coffee either (although checking through my messages, I didn’t actually mention this at all but the way he asked me out seemed to imply something on that level). He, on the other hand, told me he couldn’t stand the taste of chicken. Whether or not that actually caused a severe gag reaction remained a mystery. For all I knew, he could have stomached it but chose not to eat it.

Yet, despite the fact that CHICKEN was a big no-no for number 10, Mr White Coat, in his temerity said: Now normally for a first date I suggest meeting up for drinks either at a cafe or pub, but clearly that’s not going to work here. So what does a first date usually look like for you?

Excuse me? How dare you? How in the love of all that is reality does the fact that I don’t drink alcohol mean that I cannot go on a date to a cafe or pub? RATHER, the fact that you don’t eat chicken or like the taste of chicken means that you have a far PICKIER palate than I.

In the end, instead of exploding at him for such a poorly worded question to ask me out, I pointed out that when I have gone on dates (count them, multiple! You are, of course, suitor number 10) I’ve circumvented the need for alcohol by ordering water or juice. If it’s a cafe, I can order water or a hot chocolate if the person I’m meeting is a coffee aficionado.

There are, in fact, a multitude of ways that I can go about this.

Unlike you, Mr White Coat, where the option of KFC, be that Kentucky or Korean, is not a viable option!

The audacity of this man!

Still, despite his missteps, I agreed to a date with Mr White Coat. Our meeting place was one of the many Oliver Brown cafes in the suburbs of Sydney.

Although I had initially wanted to take public transport for the date, I was forced to drive to the meeting spot as I had a further engagement later on in the day to catch-up with friends. For which, I was actually grateful as it served as the perfect excuse to call it quits if the date went sideways. 

Of course, it wasn’t quite the disaster that I imagined it but it did feel like much of our conversation went nowhere. I suppose the problem was that I wasn’t all that curious about his life, nor was he that intrigued about mine either. Additionally, we never found a topic that would allow either of us to divulge deeply on.

But back to the date!

Despite my initial concerns that I would be late, I arrived with time to spare at the cafe. White Coat showed up a few minutes later as I was perusing the menu.

Once we ordered, we sat down at a stable and started on the long process of getting to know each other. And while I was irritated at his online persona, Mr White Coat was much better at the art of conversing in person. Which, in all honesty, isn’t saying much given how he absolutely dropped the ball earlier.

As usual, we talked about our jobs (although he didn’t really pry much into my occupation – which was a little odd now that I think on it), and where his family were located. We didn’t talk much about his hobbies but I did raise the topic of books as I stated that I had recently finished The Frugal Wizard’s Guide to Medieval England by our lord and saviour: Brandon Sanderson. I believe he told me that he got into Robin Hobb at an early age and I said that I fell in love with Trudi Canavan’s Black Magician trilogy back in Year 6.

In fact, most of the conversation was just surface level chatter about a few books that had caught our eye but it never went any deeper than that. Usually, when I talk about books with my friends that are receptive to the topic, I can talk about them for goodness knows how long. 

It and writing are probably the two topics that really engage my interest and have me going on for a good hour if I was allowed to. 

Of course, it’s not just everyone that I get so worked up with.

And with Mr White Coat, there was no spark or chemistry that was keeping me engaged. So, I didn’t talk too much and neither did he. Before I knew it, the churros I had ordered were gone and I was very non-discretely checking my watch.

To be fair, I had informed Mr White Coat earlier that I would have to leave early as I had arranged to meet up with friends later in the afternoon (as I said, it was an excellent excuse) and after 50 minutes in each other’s company, I was headed down to the southwestern suburbs of Sydney to enjoy lunch and friendly chatter with friends that I hadn’t seen in a while.

That and meet up with a fairly docile greyhound named Buttons.

Will Mr White Coat and I go on a second date? 

Yes. Because at time of writing up this post, he’s asked me out on a second date and we’ll be checking out the French Food Festival at Circular Quay. Time will tell how well that date goes but I’ll be sure to keep you, my dear readers, updated on my dating shenanigans.

Oh, and if you’re wondering why Suitor Number 10 is called White Coat, it’s because he’s a lab technician at a high school. So, he’s not even a teacher! BUT he gets to enjoy all the school holidays and not have the stress that comes with a poorly compensated secondary teacher. 

And because he’s a lab tech, he has numerous white laboratory coats. Hence the codename I’ve decided to give him.