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Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Weekly Series: Doomed Date Diaries by Bethany Quinn: Part 4

Happy Wednesday! This has to be the weirdest Wednesday of the whole year- that funny in-betweeny bit after Christmas and before New Year when we're all trying to decide what on earth our NY resolutions are going to be... and just how long they might last. Well folks... take a quick break and enjoy Bethany Quinn's hilarious Doomed Date Diaries, Part 4...

Part 4

Doomed Date Diaries by Bethany Quinn

28. Crispin

When Crispin started humming tunelessly to himself my patience finally snapped like a cracked black pepper and sea salt crisp. He'd arrived fifteen minutes earlier, three quarters of an hour late- apparently he didn't believe in the conspiracy of earthly clocks- wearing a hand knitted cardigan and open-toed sandals with no socks. It was January. He ordered a glass of tap water, sat down across from me- and, after a few deep and no doubt hugely meaningful breaths, closed his eyes.
         'What are you doing?' I asked testily.
         'I'm examining your aura,' he replied absently, seemingly lost somewhere in the sacred emulsion of the Great Cosmic Aura Colour Chart- or something.
         'Okay,' I said, feeling the familiar nosedive of dating disappointment. I really do pick them don't I? 'So how is it looking?'
         'Mainly purple,' he said dismissively, opening his eyes and sipping his water. He winced, rather like I do whenever I drink Argentinian Malbec.
         'Purple? Is that good?' Personally, I find it an impossible colour to successfully accessorize- and if I wear it too close to may face I look like I've got jaundice or I've overdone the foundation.
         Crispin smiled apologetically. 'I'm really looking for someone orange with brilliant flecks of yellow,' he said.
         'Uh huh,' I said. It looked like we were both going to go home disappointed then.

         Strangely though, as soon as it was clear that we were incompatible on a chromatic level we had a surprisingly entertaining night together. I would point out couples in the bar and Crispin would tell me the destiny of their relationships based entirely on the intensity of their auras.
         'What about them?' I said, nodding towards a pair in the corner whose faces had been fused together at the lips since the third round of double vodkas arrived.
         'Pink and crimson,' Crispin said after a brief and inscrutable glare. 'A one night stand. She'll be embarrassed about it in the morning.'
         Crispin stopped, perhaps aware how close this was to the truth of the two of us.

         'You need to look for someone greeny blue,' he said later as we went our separate ways.
         'Thanks,' I called back, as I shrugged into my coat and headed off in the opposite direction.
         Now where was I going to find someone 'greeny blue' in London in deepest, darkest January? I was having enough trouble finding someone normal.

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