This was fastest date organised in my dating history! Matched at 8:34am; email exchange at 10:38am; chat over the phone at lunch time; date sorted for the following day. I loved it! I already liked the guy: enterprising, directional, energetic and full of sensitivities. Mario was Italian. It was about time to enjoy some Latin blood with some passion and exoticness in my dating life! I was so eager to meet him.

I was not supposed to think about his physical traits but I have to describe him for you, n’est-ce pas? So here we go! Mario had the typical Italian look; dark, long wavy hair, brown eyes, slim and elegant. He was an industrial and manufacturing engineering technician. I wasn’t sure what that meant but did I care?

So, I left home at the time of the date in chaos. Hair trouble! Plus, Mario confirmed our date too close to our dating time. Why do these guys never confirm dates?

The date

Mario was waiting for me at the Camellia's Tea House, an elegant tearoom known for its selection of rather quirky teas. I'd never been there and I was eager to enjoy this quintessentially English experience.

So, I arrived at the table and we exchanged a kiss. I apologised a billion times for being late; he didn’t seem to care, he was just timidly smiling at me. Yet, the atmosphere was really strange; some kind of electricity pervaded our date; a very unpleasant feeling. I wasn’t sure what caused this. Maybe he didn’t like the look of me? Or was he annoyed because of my lateness? It was really awkward.

Mario was not the charming guy full of joy and energy I had spoken to on the phone. He spoke in a voice so low, it was like trying to listen to a bee buzzing with thousands of elephants trumpeting. Just annoying! Anyhow, I was not interested in his comparison of the weather between London, Paris, Amsterdam and Bari, a discussion that he held for about twenty minutes. Really?!

In addition to a heavy atmosphere and boring conversation, the service was super slow. When our tea finally arrived, Mario began to loosen up. At some point, he gave a wide full teeth smile, something he should have avoided because his smile had no lustre; he had a cute lucky gap smile ruined by brown stains on his front teeth. This was a non-kissable ensemble. Sorry, but bye; teeth and hair are non-negotiable traits. I couldn’t wait to leave.

Mario was verbalising his experiences like he was writing an article for The Times. On top of that, his Italian accent became more and more distinctive and increasingly annoying. Weirdly, I realised that he wasn’t even moving, no hand talking, no head approval, no body language. Only his mouth was moving. This was pretty scary to look at as he little by little looked like the Chucky doll to me.

The date was lacking romance, flirting and banter! I felt like Mario was giving me a dull professional presentation. Out of it, I managed to remember a few things about him. I learned that he had been living in London for a year and before that he had lived in Holland for seven years. His longest love story lasted three months with a Dutch lady who disappeared overnight.

Mario was the typical “nice guy” – naïve, convenient, soft with no real interests and passions. He seemed so nice that I was sure he could piss Evian water and poo dishwasher tablets.

It wasn’t a monologue. Well, I tried to tease and to flirt but Mario was as cold as stone. He asked me questions but kept cutting me off and giving his own accounts on the same situation. In fact, he could have asked these questions to himself and that would have saved me time and saliva.

The worst part of that date was when Mario started taking about his job. In fact, he told me that he developed methods, facilities and production systems. That is, all I can say, as I didn’t want to know more about it, yet he was proud and adamant in explaining his position. I listened to him speaking Chinese for ten minutes; I had no patience. I drank my tea as you drink a shot of vodka, burning my tongue, and I pretended I had other arrangements after our date, which wasn’t totally false. I was going to join the ladies at Zuma even if they didn’t expect me. What a date-tastrophe! But it wasn’t completely over. He came to wait for my cab with me, which again annoyed me; I really wanted to be away from him. Then, when my cab arrived, he asked me what I was doing next weekend. I pretended a trip to France. I tried to quickly sneak into the taxi but Mario had time to give me a kiss on the lips. I did not understand! I closed the door of the cab and in seconds I was gone towards Knightsbridge. Thank you, God!

Post date

Mario texted me saying he had really enjoyed our time and that it would be great if we could meet before my trip to France. I replied: < Hi Mario, though you seem to be a very lovely guy, I do not think there was chemistry between us. Sorry. > He never answered. Next!