Background

Meet Nathan. On paper, he was totally my type: dark, loads of hair and tall. He was a kiwi living in London, he was single, he had no kids and he was looking for a long and sound relationship. Jackpot!

Physically, I wasn’t so sure to start with. He looked fine in his pictures, but I wasn’t immediately attracted to him. I didn’t dismiss him, however. Some people are not very photogenic and I have to admit that I am one of them. So, I gave him a chance.

Nathan had a very interesting job - he sold sophisticated cocktails to bars, hotels and pubs in the Greater London area. I suspected he might be a bit of a boozer-type guy, the kind who could drink barrels without becoming even the slightest bit dizzy.

After just one email we exchanged numbers, and before I knew it, we had arranged to meet the following day in Hammersmith.

Pre-date

Come the next morning, I wasn’t looking forward to the date. Harper was strongly on my mind and I didn’t feel ready to start seeing another guy. But just as I was in the middle of composing a text to Nathan to reschedule for some other time (or possibly, never), I received a text from him asking me to meet him in front of the Starbucks near the station. Merde!

I texted him back pretending that I had a late meeting and needed to postpone, but he was adamant about seeing me and eagerly suggested a time later in the day instead. I could not think of another excuse on the spot; he had me trapped. I agreed to see him later and after a moment of irritation, I resigned myself to it. What did I have to lose?

The Date

I almost didn’t recognise Nathan from his pictures online. Ooh, la, la…I thought as my eyes settled on his for the first time. He was very handsome, well-built and solid. I could tell just from his posture that he was a confident guy, and when he squeaked a ‘hello’ to me in his measured New Zealand accent – I found it adorable. His voice didn’t quite fit his appearance, and although it took me a little by surprise, it wasn’t a turnoff. His voice wasn’t higher than mine, after all!

Greetings out of the way, we headed away from the hubbub of Starbucks and the area around the station to the nearest pub, The Swan. Nathan asked what I wanted to drink and I asked for a small glass of French red wine. He ordered an Opihr Oriental Spiced Gin – just the name of it made me feel drunk. I smiled.

Nathan looked a bit stressed and nervous and he kept scratching his beard, looking around as if he was lost in a jungle. He also kept gnashing his teeth every two minutes. I tried not to notice it, but it was really irritating.

Myself, I tried to be cool, smiley and talkative. I could tell he was nervous, so I tried to joke about it a few times, in a way I hoped was reassuring. However, after only the second round of drinks, we were standing up to leave.

This date was very strange to me. I am usually absolutely full of opinions, yet I am still unable to say whether this date was good or not. I was constantly looking for his eyes and they were always darting away. We shared one or two intense moments of eye contact, which may or may not have been stares of approval. But there was no room for chemistry between us – especially with chatterbox Valérie in full attendance.

Still puzzled, I walked with him to the bus station. When I saw my bus coming around the corner, I turned to give him a peck on the cheek. But he kissed me squarely on the lips! Now, even more puzzled, I got on the taxi without even looking back at him. I was flustered, spun, out-of-sorts, disorientated…no, not exactly. I was, how do you Brits say it? Ah, oui – discombobulated!

Post-date

Once I got home, I decided that our date had been just lousy. It had been filled with awkward silences to follow my many corny jokes. But without my corny jokes there would have been nothing but silence, awkward or not. Creepy…

I consoled myself with the idea that at least the other customers in the pub would have had some entertainment. Even if I am on the most boring date in the world, I like to think that anybody nearby will at least have a good laugh at my manic monologue.

I stopped criticising myself for something as trivial as talking a bit too much and turned my attention to my date. There had been plenty of things for Nathan to talk about if he had wished to contribute to the conversation – literally anything would have been better than nothing. “Hi Valérie, you look lovely,” is an excellent conversation starter, for example.

Then it dawned on me that Nathan had made no comment on my appearance. Niet, nada, zéro compliment on my looks or my clothes - NOTHING! This was a dating first - even for me.

I ran over the evening quickly in my mind until I was certain that I had complimented him. Yes, I had mentioned straight away that he looked better than his online pictures. He hadn’t returned the compliment.

We may live in a very virtual world these days, but for me that only enhances the importance of meeting in person. You can learn a lot about someone via emails and texts, but you cannot fully know them until you have had a proper face-to-face conversation.

Conversation is also a huge part of the seduction process, isn’t it? How do you seduce someone without a bit of banter or flattery? Flirting is essential for me and it is never a one-way street – it must be reciprocated.

Eventually, I began to deduce that Nathan was just not that into me. But why did he stay with me for almost three hours? Why even bother with the second round of drinks? Then I remembered the second round had been on me – he must have stayed to claw back some return on his investment.

But what about that kiss? What did that mean? Why was I wasting my time thinking about this guy? Next!

Pre-date No.2

Ten days after, what I was now thinking of as my catastrophic date with Nathan, I was surprised to receive a text from him asking me what I was up to. I was dining out with my ladies and I replied as such. He responded saying that he was in Zurich for business and that he could not wait to see me again upon his return.

This was so unexpected; I had to check several times to make sure it was really him. Was I missing something? Had he been on the same date that I had?

I remembered being completely confused as to whether he even liked me at the time, and now he was texting me as if we had shared the best date ever. Maybe he had a stroke or something? Or worse, maybe he was confusing me with someone else.

That didn’t seem to be the case however, because three days later he contacted me again. I agreed to see him the following Friday.

But I promised myself that if I ended up serving the pub a monologue again, I would leave early.

Date No.2

We were in The Crown and Anchor pub in Chiswick and you could hear my laugh for miles around. Wow, who was this guy I had in front of me - Nathan’s charismatic twin? I couldn’t believe that this chatty and smiling man in front of me was the same man I had met a couple of weeks ago. He was full of compliments, very touchy-feely, caring, full of life...

I was having a lot of fun in that pub and I really liked the Nathan who had shown up this time. I was completely charmed.

Afterwards we went to The Bull’s Head where a friend of his was singing. The pub had a convivial atmosphere and everyone was talking to us. I felt like we were very welcome. I drank, spoke with his singer friend, drank some more, danced with new (or temporary, whatever) friends.

The night was magical. Until I woke up at around 6am without knowing where I was.

I was naked and apparently in Nathan’s bed, who wasn’t currently around. Judging by all the condoms on the floor, we had had sex. Thank God, I used them! I must have had a complete blackout. I did not know what had happened for a large part of the night before, especially the later part. It was crazy - I didn’t even recall leaving the pub with Nathan. But I certainly did, didn’t I? Shocking!

This was the first time that this had ever happened to me. I cursed myself for getting drunk and having a stupid fucking teenage attitude. I was so ashamed that I finally understood the expression ‘Walk of Shame’. I just wanted to get my clothes on, call a cab and hide under my covers for the rest of my life.

I started to restyle my hair, put my granny panties on (shit, he saw these), then my sports bra (damn! Putain!). Just as I was adjusting my mini dress and putting on my shoes, Nathan returned, all smiles. He asked me where I was going.

I smiled back, embarrassed, “I should get going, I have a lot to do today.”  I don’t think he understood (or he just pretended not to hear me), because he lifted me up gently in his arms, stroked my derriere, then started licking my ear lobe. It was delightfully exhilarating, so instead of doing my first walk of shame, I went back to bed with him. I was determined to remember our intercourse fully this time. We made love quite deliciously that morning, but I was too hangover to enjoy it properly.

I went home later that morning, still a little shocked by what had happened. It had all happened so fast! Thinking of my mismatched underwear, faded pedicure and my very hairy vagina – actual, physical evidence that I hadn’t been prepared - I became quite upset. Even more regret crept in when I remembered that I had slept with him again that morning...I couldn’t blame the alcohol for everything.

Aside from everything else, I was very angry with myself for not remembering anything from my first night with him. But I had a banging headache, I had to sleep.

Post-date No.2

After a well-deserved nap, I felt much better. I could now try to assess things. Sadly, I began to realise that I had hated that second date. Not because of Nathan, but simply because I remembered absolutely nothing about the night after a certain point, the part with all the sex.

Many questions coursed through my mind. If I was really that drunk, how did I get from the pub to his place? Did he carry me? Did we take a cab? I was trying hard to remember, but I had absolutely no recollection. Pff… And then we made love several times? How was that even possible if I was that drunk? Maybe I should go to a hypnosis session… Well, maybe not. I would hate to find myself describing a super graphic and/or pornographic scene to a doctor...

I did not like this feeling. I felt powerless somehow, and I knew I needed to talk to Nathan.

Until then, I would speak to The Ladies.

Date No.3

Ladies’ night and the girls were on top form. Camellia was totally into Nathan, she loved my story and thought it was funny, like the addictive reality TV shows she watched and was always so eager to see the next episode of.

In contrast, Bianca had almost too much of an opinion on this one. I thought she was going to slap me like a naughty child! She was nearly out of her mind with concerns like, "He must have used a date rape drug," and "are you certain he used those condoms??"

Her lectures ended with a disappointed condemnation of my character: “How such a sophisticated and classy lady like you could end up like a drunk teenager in a shit hole outside of London, I will never understand”.

I felt ashamed all over again… I didn’t know what to say. Thank god Camellia was on my side. I knew it was a serious matter and probably warranted a longer discussion, but I was meeting Nathan that evening. I hid it from the girls and left early, pretending that I had a deadline.

I joined Nathan at Chiswick Station, near where he lived. This time I had been waxed and was wearing sexy underwear. I reflected naughtily to myself that I was probably going to need a glass or two of something to keep cool.

We ate in a small pub and had “The Best Caesar Salad in London”. During dinner, he was as shy and inattentive as he had been before, on our very first date. He was watching everyone except moi. I felt confused again and after dinner, the atmosphere between us was as cold as the North Pole. I thought it probably wasn’t the best time to speak about our last sex session. Upon receiving the bill, he coldly asked me to pay my share of the tip. Fair enough, I put my money in.

His tone bothered me though, plus I did not understand his request. We always shared the tip anyway – he hadn’t needed to ask me so pointedly. I must have made a face, because he added apologetically that he was saving to buy drums.

Well, that made me feel better… Drums over me! I don’t know how much drums cost, but at most he saved twelve pounds that night. At that pace, he would be able to afford his drums in only… Let’s say ten years.

I decided that I would not spend another night like this and was about to get up to leave, when all of a sudden, Nathan ‘s attitude changed. He became warmer, and later when we were walking to his place, he held my hand. I was reminded that I wanted to relive the sexy bits of our last date.

Once indoors and after a glass of Baileys, Nathan became funnier and even more charming. He spoke a few words of French and made fun of us eating frogs. I became more and more relaxed.

We spoke about our families and friends. I was pleased that he showed a bit of interest and asked the names of my sisters; he wanted to see their pictures.

We made love twice. It was slow, delicate and gentle.

Pre-date No.4

After spending a few days in Paris, I returned to London and the first “welcome back” text I received was from Nathan. He asked if I was back in the UK, how was my trip and my family. We agreed to meet the following Friday.

It would be our fourth date and I wondered, not for the first time, where all this was going. It was still all very mysterious, but I decided to go with the flow.

Date No.4 - What a Night!

Whenever I was with Nathan, I found myself constantly flitting between different emotional states: from surprise to satisfaction, maybe throw in some disappointment, and then back to surprise.

We had not agreed on a specific time for our fourth date, but Nathan called me at around 8pm. He had been drinking with his colleagues and he merrily revealed to me that he would shortly be joining me at mine. Oh no! This was a nightmare; my room was in an utterly un-showable mess. There was at least two weeks’ worth of clothes, bags and shoes strewn across the floor of my dressing room, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

I had to be super quick. I made my bed, then hid all the clothes in either the dryer or washing machine. I seriously did not realise how many clothes I possessed until I had to hide them all! Sex toys were cunningly hidden under the bed, then I put all the dishes in the dishwasher. After about an hour of manic almost cleaning, I was done. But I was exhausted, feeling like I had run a marathon.

I went to meet Nathan at Knightsbridge station at around nine-thirty pm and to my surprise, he immediately took me in his arms and kissed me impetuously. It was lovely! Then, on our way to my apartment, he smothered me in little kisses every few minutes. The catch? He bought himself a burger at McDonald’s, but didn’t bother asking me if I was hungry. I resisted saying what was on my mind after that: “Oh sorry, you’re probably still saving for your drums. Well, that’s another four pounds in the piggy bank. Good for you.”

Anyway, when we arrived at mine, I found myself curiously feeling timid. I am not a shy person, so would usually find this inexplicable. But I think it was seeing him drunk for the first time (while I was sober enough to notice anyway) and so infatuated by me. It was sort of intimidating.

Despite being a little drunk, he was incredibly hot and sexy that night. He was unself-conscious and seemed comfortable, dropping his chips as he ate – he was so hungry. It was sweet. We chatted about his job, his life in New Zealand and the reasons that had prompted him to come to London. I finally felt like I was beginning to know him a little.

We chatted until around 2am, and then called it a night. At the sight of my bed, he was shocked by the number of decorative pillows on it, but it didn’t prevent us from making love tenderly. Afterwards, Nathan took me in his arms again, gave me a kiss on the forehead and slept almost immediately.

Finally, a genuine and affectionate gesture.

Curiously, that night I began thinking of my ex-husband. It surprised me because I rarely did so anymore, especially after having sex with another man.

After a while, an indescribable feeling of sadness. But then Morpheus took me in his arms, as he eventually always does, and I fell asleep silently.

Pre-date No.5

We made plans for our fifth date during our fourth, and the day before, I had the following text chat with Nathan, who I had come to think of as “My Panda”:

Nathan: < Hello, how are you? Can you believe I’ve got a bloody cold! In the middle of summer!!! ;)>

Me: < Oh nooo! Poor thing! Look after yourself… I’m ok, I had a fairly busy day. How was yours? >

Nathan: < Oh, flat out and full on!! But that’s good.>

Me: <You shouldn’t work that hard with your cold X >

Nathan: <No, I’ll take it easy tomorrow xx>

Me: < You could also hire a nurse tonight; she’ll take great care of you. >

Nathan: <;) x Oh yes, I need a little nurse lol ;)) where do you hire her from? > 

Me: < From a company called Valérie Duval Limited >

Nathan: <Mm-mm, sounds great thanks ;)> 

And that was it! My sexy self-invitation was declined! I decided he was far too polite and uptight for me. It was becoming really annoying…

Date No.5

Nathan confirmed our date. I guessed he wasn’t sick anymore.

Fast forward to the actual date and he’s up to his old tricks again: cold, distant, uncaring and not listening to a thing I said. Damn, I just did not get this guy! I sat there watching him staring at everybody in the room except from me.

I asked him if he was okay and if he was waiting for someone perhaps? I explained that I was very uncomfortable with his attitude and he replied, very calmly - as if I had simply asked him to pass the salt - that some friends of his were coming.

Well, at least Nathan had an excuse for his behaviour this time. A few minutes later his phone rang, and we left to join his friends in another pub with live music playing. Once there, he became a little more relaxed.

As for myself, I was busy talking with all of his friends, but not Nathan. He decided to ignore me all night, and I seethed with anger while I drank. With the wine just making things worse, I became more and more flirty. My ego was wounded and I wanted his attention.

But it didn’t seem to work; he just carried on talking with some pub friends, as if they were far more important than me - his date.

We stayed until the end of the gig and then we went back to his place. By the time we got there, I was so tired that the most I could muster to confront him with was… Well, nothing… I was too weak to argue, too horny to fight and I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to.

I asked him to kiss me, Nathan obeyed immediately. I lay down on him, hungry to touch him and…. Blackout! I woke up the next day to the sound of Nathan’s television. I began to question him when he interrupted me, gesturing at the TV, "I'm sorry, this is Formula One."

In an effort to avoid losing my temper, I started getting dressed quickly to go home. He noticed what I was doing and looked away from his beloved racing show long enough to ask, "What are you doing?"

“I am going home so YOU can watch your boring stuff”. He looked at me, surprised at my sudden change in mood. He apologised for his attitude, but I was still angry, "I want to go, I have things to do. Enjoy!'

As I reached the door, I think I heard him say something like I'll miss you. I looked at him once more, my temper and eyes still blazing. Then I left, slamming the door behind me.

Post-date No.5

Frankly, I felt like Nathan was still as much a stranger to me after our fifth date, as he had been after our first. I just did not get him! Despite our many conversations and my constant attempts to understand his likes and dislikes, I could never anticipate his behaviour. Was I just not asking the right questions?

Then there was the matter of these blackouts that I seemed to have while I was with him. Forget the fact that Nathan was still a mystery to me - when I was with him, I did not even recognise myself!

And what if Bianca was right? What if he had used a date-rape drug? Even though the thought appalled and terrified me – and I could not bring myself to think that Nathan could be such a predator - I could not dismiss the possibility. When I did allow myself to consider it for a moment, I reasoned that he had no motive to do such a thing (particularly the second time); we were already on a date together and (for my part, at least) were going to have sex anyway. But then, rape is never merely about sex – it is about control and power. It was a very sobering thought.

Date No.6

The early part of the evening was nice. Nathan came over to my place, we ordered a pizza and we enjoyed a bottle of red together. Of course, since he was still saving for those drums of his - I paid for all of it.

The night quickly went from cool to What the hell ?!

After dinner, Nathan started to ask me some very weird and almost stupid questions. Some of these questions made me wonder if he had ever been anywhere in the world but the UK or New Zealand, where he was born. I began to realise that he was far from being the sort of guy I would ever admire intellectually.

The first question that gave me pause was: “Do you speak English with your family?”

Reminder: I am French. Born and educated there and my family still lives in France. Why in hell would we speak English to each other?

I did not understand the logic. It sounded like he had not given the question much thought before asking it of me.

On the same subject, and as I was explaining my family background, he asked: “So you speak French and German?”

“German? Why would we speak German?” I asked curiously, preparing myself for whatever foolishness might be on its way next.

Nathan explained to me pompously, as if I were the one being stupid: “The French are like the Swiss, they speak both French and German. Since World War Two”.

I think I paused for nearly ten full seconds, not quite sure how to react. I had never heard such nonsense in my life. Try saying something like that to a French World War Two veteran and you can be sure that you will leave the room on your derrière!

But, it went from bad to worse or from dumb to dumber? When he tried to analyse a picture of my family that was hanging in my living room. The picture was taken in Paris, on Île aux Cygnes (The Isle of Swans), where there is a mini replica of the Statue of Liberty.

Nathan asked me if it was taken in Paris (no points for that one – Paris is unmistakable and it could not have been taken anywhere else). I nodded affirmatively, bracing myself for more daft questions or observations. He continued, not disappointing me, "The photo must have been taken before the Statue of Liberty was given to the USA, then."

Okay, even some French nationals do not know that we have a mini version of the Statue of Liberty, although it has been there for almost as long as the one that now stands on Liberty Island in New York. But most people (hopefully) would realise that any photograph taken in Paris that contained the real Statue of Liberty would have to be from pre-1900! I didn’t expect him to know the exact date, but a basic grasp of world history would have been reassuring. Especially for somebody who claimed to know so much about everything.

Who the hell was this guy? I started to suspect that Nathan had no culture whatsoever, and this was a big minus for me. I love to discuss politics, culture, art and so many other things about the wonderful world we all live in. But you cannot discuss such things with somebody who hasn’t been paying attention to anything beyond his own nose for his whole life.

I think I knew that Nathan wasn’t the one for me, but I didn’t want to make any snap decisions. Maybe I was being too hard on him.

Date No.7

Sunday, late May, I was just relaxing into the peaceful place that Arts Magazine takes me to, when around 10am I received a text invitation from Nathan for a late lunch, followed by a walk along the Thames.

Mmmm... I was unsure. After our last date, I had been planning to break up with him pronto. I obviously hadn’t done so pronto enough.

Remember that I was dating Harper at the same time, and thoughts of him were increasingly invading my heart. But then, I thought. I had nothing planned and was longing for some romance.

I arrived at Butlers Wharf Chop House to meet Nathan a bit later, and quickly realised that this afternoon date was not going to be a romantic one.

Nathan introduced me to his best friend Sam. The latter was quick to tell me about himself and that they had just hired a bass player for their band. I was not even aware that Nathan was in a band, but at least it explained the drums. I was a little disappointed, but glad he had introduced me to his best friend – presumably one of the most important people in his life. I hid my surprise at it not being just the two of us, remained polite and did my best to appear pleased to meet Sam. As we chatted I asked polite questions while Nathan, consistent in his behaviour for once, sat there ignoring us and looking around.

Well, at least I knew it wasn’t personal!

We spent the afternoon in the charming restaurant, where I was at least getting to know Sam, when Nathan suddenly announced that it was time to leave for “Cally’s leaving dinner“. I was like “What now?” and just as I was starting to enjoy myself…

So, Cally and Jérôme, a Franco-Australian couple, were moving permanently to Australia and had organised a farewell party. We were all invited and it was time to go.

Well, the dinner was a fiasco.

The host Jérôme, (from Normandy, France) told me of his “aversion for the Parisians“. Well, I am Parisian.

I listened patiently and quietly acknowledged his criticisms. Then I (rather bravely, I think) explained that he was making generalisations. The ensuing debate was sometimes heated but always interesting; I like challenges and am not afraid of constructive argument or debate.

When it comes to a subject close to my heart, I tend to excel at making my point. Unfortunately, that annoyed Jérôme like hell.

Nathan and Sam were nowhere to be seen for at least an hour, leaving me to fend for myself amongst a group of strangers. When they finally re-joined the table, Nathan was horrified by the turn of conversation. He defended me and we made our excuses. He left for home, with a very horny Parisian in tow.

At his place, we made love gently again. But every time I showed a bit of ardour, enthusiasm or passion, Nathan calmed me down to a slower pace. It was infuriatingly sexy, but trying to calm a tsunami with a fire is extremely difficult. He kept bringing me close, but when he came, I was still unsatisfied.

The next morning, I kept fidgeting around in Nathan’s bed. I could not sleep well, waking up every half hour, my head too busy for rest. I was angry, tired, but excited all at the same time.

I was tired of this lack of attention - instead of taking me in his arms, Nathan had his pillow! And where was the Oompf when we were having sex? Where was the animal passion, eh?

I looked at him sleeping. I still did not understand him.

It seemed I had no time to figure him out anyway, as my phone beeped loudly in my bag. It was my dearest Harper.

Conclusion

It was time to put an end to this story. The weeks spent with Nathan had started to take their toll on me and I was unhappy. We had nothing in common. This relationship would lead nowhere.

I cared for him in a certain way, but I was not <