Leither in London – Issue 74
Posted by Carrie in March's Magazine
Deal-breakers. We all have them, that one little thing which takes a guy (or girl) out of the running as a potential mate. My old friend Lee had screeds of them, most of which I dismissed as ridiculous. He rejected girls for being too fat, too thin, too smart, too clever, having too loud a laugh and my personal favourite soundbite: “She was an amazing person and really beautiful but after I noticed her freakishly large thumbs, I just had to end it. Every time she touched me, it was all I could think about.”
In comparison, I’ve always thought my deal-breakers were pretty reasonable – my ideal boyfriend would not be under 5ft 10, he would not be losing all his hair, he would not have loads of emotional baggage (such as an ex-wife or three kids) and he would not be clinically obese. Saying all that, I’ve always liked to think that if I met the right person, none of that stuff would really matter – however recently I’m beginning to worry that I’m more shallow than I thought.
Enter Mike. Now Mike I have known for a while. We’re not exactly bosom buddies but he’s part of the extended gang and he frequently shows up to those Sunday afternoon gatherings in the pub, as well as the requisite birthdays and weddings. I’ve always liked Mike. He’s funny, he’s charismatic, he’s generous, friendly, and just generally lovely – in fact I think so much of him that I seem to dedicate an inordinate amount of time talking him up as a potential boyfriend to other single friends of mine. And a few of them would probably go for it, if he showed any real interest in them. The trouble is the only person he’s been showing any interest in lately is me, sadly that’s a match I just can’t get on board with.
You see while Mike is undoubtedly attractive, well over 5ft 10 and physically fit, with no serious emotional baggage; Mike is – how can I put this – follicly challenged. And I don’t mean that he’s shaven-headed. I mean he is completely bald. As a coot, if you like. I know that shouldn’t matter. I know I should be able to see beyond that. And I can to a certain extent but when I look at him, I don’t feel attracted to him in the right way. I think ‘Oh Mike is so lovely’ not ‘Oh, I could tear his clothes off”.
Boxed bottles of bubbly
Saying all that, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t sensed something in the air between us before. There’s definitely been a little flirting – probably from both sides – but I always thought it was innocent fun. At a mutual friend’s wedding, he spent much of the night flinging me around the dance floor. At a recent birthday, he spent a good hour reassuring me that my career break was on the horizon. And when I later mentioned that a good friend of mine was trying break into TV (where his job lies), he pretty much offered her a job without even meeting her. But it was only at my own birthday party last month that I finally realised he might be interested in more than being my dance buddy/career advisor.
First of all, it was a surprise he even came. The three mates he’d usually show up with couldn’t make it that night so I’d assumed he’d give it a miss too. Instead, he came on his own. Secondly, he came bearing gifts – a boxed bottle of bubbly for every one of the birthday girls (four of us have birthdays relatively close so share an annual party) and as he bowled in and wrapped me in a bear hug, the first words out of his mouth to me were “You look amazing.” I wondered then if there was something there but continued to deny it to myself as he spent all night charming my friends, buying everyone drinks, and once again flinging me round the dance floor. It was only when Helen pulled me to one side and informed me that he was clearly very ‘into’ me, that I realised it was true. Unfortunately by this point, he’d bought me approximately three jager shots and rather than realise it was time to stop dancing with him and put a little safe distance between us, I let him spin me back into his arms and we wound up lip-to-lip. Oops.
I’d hoped that if we kissed I might suddenly be overcome with the powerful electricity between us. But that’s not quite how it went in the end. I just wasn’t feeling it. I pulled away and while he was standing there grinning from ear-to-ear, I was wishing I could turn back the clock. I feel like the worst person in the world for admitting all this and most of all, I’m so frustrated with myself. Here’s a guy who could be perfect for me and I’m freaking out over his hair (or lack thereof). It’s so stupid. But I guess I found my ultimate deal-breaker. So what did I do? I ran away. Of course I did. I’m shallow remember.
Illustration: Bernie Reid