10.0 Kate

Joining a dating site with intent is scary. I’d peeped before to see what the future might look like and even that was difficult. This time, it was for real.

e-Harmony is not cheap but it means those people that pay are serious about trying to find someone. It’s not about one-night-stands (ONS) or a casual interaction. They mean it (and so did I).

There is a personality profile to complete. I’ve studied personality ‘tests’ before and they have a chequered history. You cannot ‘test’ personality – it implies an ideal state, a model against which you test the subject. Instead, it is possible to assess preferences or styles of interaction with the world and other people. These can be categorised broadly and provide indicators to the observer about how two people might engage with each other.

eHarmony’s profiling seems innocuous enough, sometimes binary choices between extremes and at other times, puzzling. The personality profile is central to how eHarmony matches you with other people. When you receive a suggestion there is a score that shows how compatible you might be and even expresses and opinion: “Your Compatibility Score with Jane is exciting”.

Kate’s profile is near the top of my matches. Her Compatibility Score is good (not exciting). Her job is different – not the normal. OK, I’m intrigued. I have images of soldering irons, pizza-box servers and backplanes. I read her profile. My, it is quite different. Even from my brief ‘peep’ at the dating world, it seems to me that a lot of the women I matched with are ‘Sevenoaks Survivors’ – middle class women looking for husband 2.0. Skiing, the theatre, dogs, horses, gardening – all feature with alarming regularity. But when was the last time they actually went to the theatre?

Kate’s profile feels somewhat resigned to the craziness of the 2D dating world and not a little fatigued. One of the questions you are asked is: ‘What would your friends say about you?” Kate’s answer is: ‘ask them, the won’t tell me!’ It’s ansi and I like it. Her pictures are different too – very real. In the main profile pic, Kate appears a demure, almost grand-motherly presence. It doesn’t really look like her at all. The next two are Kate in the sea, wild swimming. She adores this and it shows. The final one is Kate looking relaxed, like she’s just had a shower, washed her hair and is glowing from a sea swim. I’m entranced by this photo. Her smile is enigmatic and her long hair seals the deal in 2D.

I message her straight away: ‘How the hell did you get into doing that for a living?’ I ask. Not long after she replies and we begin an easy going and fluid conversation. We agree to have a phone call (no Zoom dates ever again). When we speak, it is for over an hour on the phone. Again, it is an effortless conversation. Busy work schedules mean it will be a week before we can meet in 3D.

During that week, we message – a lot. I’m super aware of my need to connect with someone and do try to limit it. But, I inevitably get carried away – no doubt. The dopamine hits are too good. Suddenly, here is a woman I like and she is responding. We share music with one another – she has great taste and hits all the high notes on music selection nearly all of which I haven’t heard before. I’m impressed.

The week passes slowly. More messaging. Finally, Monday arrives. We are both nervous. What if we don’t like each other in real life? I walk towards the National Theatre my stomach cartwheeling; my head is trying to stay in control. Suddenly, I see a woman with long hair blowing in the wind: oh, I hope that is her. She’s lovely. I approach and she notices me. I wave. She smiles. We embrace. You’re right, I say, you are gorgeous in real life. She tells me she is relieved I wasn’t the guy walking in front of me – ‘too short’. I glow inwardly.

We walk. We talk. We do a lot of walking and after 4.5 hours we have covered 15,000 steps. This is impressive because we spent a couple of hours sitting Birley’s waiting to be kicked out as they closed at 4pm. It is a natural conversation. Nothing feels forced. Kate has a gentleness to her and it is only the next day that I realise this and the impact it has on me is huge.

On the Millennium Bridge she asks me if we will have a 2nd date. “Hell yes”, I say. “Good, she says because there have been lots of green flags for me.” My inner glow is roaring, We head back to Waterloo. She needs a train towards Twickenham. We are grinningly awkward. We kiss, briefly, on the lips goodbye. I am overjoyed. She is lovely, unique, emotionally available (or so it seems) and moreover she likes me.

On my train to Lewisham, I text her. She replies: “well, I’m grinning like an idiot on a packed train, so thank you! xx” Have I managed to hit the jackpot on my first proper date? I’m happy and tell EVERYONE. Obviously, I tell everyone because I’m emotionally incontinent but I’m also proud, proud to have connected with someone so unique in what they do and how they live their life. We talk, madly it seems, about putative treks across Iceland in a camper van, driving to Canada from England, other crazy adventures. She makes me want to leap out of my comfort zone and hold her hand in the dark she fears so much.

It’s ridiculous. Some texts and one date, but I can feel myself liking her a lot. A LOT. Need to be careful. I’m vulnerable. VERY. My friends warn me. Steve is particularly vocal and tells me to stop. I ignore all of them – my heart pulling me along like a child holding a pit-bull by the lead that has just seen a squirrel.

We organise a second date, a film at the Barbican – Wilding about the Nepp Estate. Kate books it and I try to find a suitable a restaurant. At short notice, this is a challenge – especially for a Friday night. I am helped by some people, who I don’t really know, to get a table at Shankey’s in Homerton. It’s and Irish/Indian fusion gaff in a former bookies. I’m grateful to them and humbled.

Friday arrives and I am suitably nervous again. Ali is at the house and asks me what I’m doing that night. I say I’m meeting someone at London Fields and then going to the Barbican to see a movie. “are you going on a date?, she asks. I’m torn. She is moving things out of the house into the new flat and its already emotional. But, I’m not going to lie about what I’m doing so I tell her that I am going on a second date. This is a surprise and she enquires about how we met. I start to tell her and then, suddenly, Ali shuts down and doesn’t want to know anything else. Not a surprise really. I wasn’t trying to hurt her – far from it.

I drive to the station and get the Overground to Whitechapel and then a bus to London Fields. I text Kate and a few moments later she arrives. Kate looks lovely in striped trousers and Nike Celtic hi-tops. She has a sneaker habit and these are perfect. I open Google maps and begin an embarrassing and hilarious attempt to get us to Well Street. After numerous wrong turns, we end up outside Shankey’s. It’s just before they open at 6pm. We loiter.

After a few minutes, they let us in and we choose a table. For some reason, I am more anxious this time. The conversation with Ali has upset me. I feel guilty. Why? We are separated! But, the weight of 35 years is not easy to drop. I feel confident about going out with Kate. It is not her. And I feel happy to be moving on, however soon it might seem to outsiders. I have been lonely for so long.

We chat over the menu and Kate says that she thought about cancelling because she is very tired. I am quite shocked by that, but don’t show it. I sense a disparity between the significance for both of us. But why? What changed in the few days? Was I an over-eager, needy txt pest? I felt that way sometimes. My RSD would savage my emotions like that pit-bull with its squirrel.

We share the sea bream. Again, I’m out of my zone but it is delicious. Shankey’s is a perfect spot. Sacha, the owner and chef comes over and talks to us. Then, it’s time to leave. Wilding is on at 9pm and the Barbican is over a 2 mile walk away. This time, I make Kate do the navigation – we do actually want to get there!

It’s quite a walk and quite a pace. We cover lots of ground in our conversation – some of it the guts of my breakup. I’m cautious but I trust this woman already. She has been solid. Stupidly, I’ve worn new hiking shoes with only trainer socks on. By the time we arrive at the Barbican, my feet have large blisters on the soles. Yuk. But I don’t care. I’m happy.

We had joked about the audience being full of old farts, but it turns out we are the old farts. We laugh and riff on this for a while. I sit close to her, our arms touching. I’m beyond desperate to touch her but feel I can’t and anyway, this is 2024, surely she can touch me if she wants to – right? I don’t *have* to initiate it, do I? I maintain self-control. The film is great – lavishly shot with a remarkable sound design. I am knackered from the walk (and the 5:30am gym start). We joke about lots of things in the film, I want a baby piglet – they are so cute. Our arms are touching all the time.

The film ends and we head off to the Barbican tube station. I don’t want to say goodbye so soon (even though its been 5 hours). We decide to go to London Bridge and then go our separate ways on the Jubilee Line. Waiting on the platform at the Barbican, I say: “So, are we seeing each other again?” She replies: “yeah, I thought that was a given.” I’m happy. My ADHD brain has been doing summersaults around RSD, emotional regulation – the works. We get on the train. I awkwardly hold her hand. Finally. We get to London Bridge and both our tube trains are in. “I’m going the other way” I say as she rushes off. Kate runs back, hugs me and kisses me on the lips. She looks right into my eyes and smiles. Her eyes are bright, clear. She turns and dashes onto the train.

I txt and thank her for a lovely date and then to tell me when she gets home safe. It’s late and I’m obviously concerned. I go to bed and sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. 20,000 steps have done me in. My feet throb but I’m happy. In my head, there is suddenly a safe place and in my heart an emptiness is starting to drain away.

Saturday – I know Kate likes to sleep in and messages first thing are not the best thing. Eventually, I give in and message. At 10:30 she responds:
Morning, was doing a phone free morning coffee, I’ll have you know! Oh dear on the blister front, sorry for making you walk so far.. will it affect your drumming today?
I respond lightly and go off for my rehearsal. I send her a picture of Johnny Rae. Later, at Steve’s I send her pictures of his modular synthesiser and other bits and pieces. I see that she has looked at her phone but not my messages. This continues throughout the day. She had mentioned that a friend wanted her to visit and there was a party. I assume that she has got involved in that and don’t message again. Internally, my RSD is in Blitzkrieg mode. I hate it because it isn’t a choice, it’s a symptom of ADHD and does not serve us well.

Sunday, I’ve had no response. Now, I know something is wrong. My guts are turning over and over like an industrial laundromat dryer. I message her but then delete it. Too needy. Leave her – she is probably at a friends and staying in the moment with them.

11am and I’m on a Zoom call with Andy, the personal trainer. We have nearly finished and I’m chatting away. I’ve been talking about Kate and dating. We’re both in good humour and then a message appears on my screen:
Hiya, look I really enjoyed meeting you but I don’t think I have the bandwidth for what you need. I wish you all the best in your search for a worthy partner.
Numbly, I tell Andy that Kate has just ‘dumped me’ – if we can even say that is what it is from what is was… I end the call and am numb.

How have we gone from super excited on Monday, to more dates are a ‘given’ on Friday to this goodbye on Sunday? I can’t understand it. I message Signal and Steve and they are flummoxed too. Both are super supportive. But I spiral, unable to control the RSD. All my plans to re-organise the house in my image fizzle out.

I had already started to write about Kate – not for publication but for my own memory of events – however they turned out. The suddenness of this is shocking. It’s like the conversation on the edge of the bed with Ali when we decided it was all over.

Obviously, Kate doesn’t want to engage any more – which is very hard for me. But I have to respect it. What do I think is behind it? She has lived a solo life for 10 years. It is full of friends, family, travel, work. Suddenly, she meets someone she likes but here is Lim, all guns blazing – come on, let’s jump in together. Hold my hand. It’s probably all too much and there doesn’t feel room for it – best cut the tie before it becomes a bond.

I am immeasurably sad about it. We didn’t know each other long enough for it to be love, but it had all the potential and I was willing to abandon my comfort zone – not just step-out of it.

What now? Self-care. The gym. Organise the house. My bands. Move the separation with Ali on as much as possible.

And Kate? I hope she finds what she needs and if she wants to go across Iceland in that van, she has my number.