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Simon
Simon is almost bald. He has short, spiky hair that smacks of a suburban lawn that’s just been plowed down by a gardener with OCD, and his eyebrows have the shape of clouds that weigh down on his face, making his eyes look small and sad.
We meet outside Monmouth coffee shop in Seven Dials.
Simon pays for my decaf latte, dismissing my objection by saying that he is more than happy to do so, and as the shop’s veranda is packed, we end up sitting on a bench overlooking the cafe itself.
It’s a great view with it’s old fashioned black and white signage and a blue old fashioned lamp protruding at the top, and all the baristas walking around with their brown aprons and happ faces.
Within 10 minutes it transpires that Simon is a big aficionado of wine, coffee, food and music, and a big dissector on the subject of love.
He has played the cello on over 100 weddings in South Africa and has clearly kept a scrutinizing eye on all the couples.
‘Most people weren’t in love…They were fond of each other but they weren’t in love.’, he says.
There is something faux intellectual about the way Simon picks up his cappuccino cup with a delicate hand gesture and nozzles at the foam, and I am a little intrigued.
‘How can you tell?’ I ask.
‘Oh, it’s very easy to tell. You just learn to get a sense for these things.’
I tell Simon that I am despondent about the app and ask if his experiences have been any better.
‘Believe me, women are just as bad as men.’, Simon says and takes me through his stories.
Women showing up on a date a few days after a breakup, women who spend the whole date talking about an ex, women who are polyamourous and don’t tell him they’ve been seeing 5 other ‘friends’ at the same time.
‘Some people see it as optional whether they tell you or not.’, he says.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, it’s similar to the vegan’s avocado argument. Should a vegan be eating avocados or not?’, he says without any trace of irony.
I want to object that this is a very different matter but Simon has already moved on to his next story and I’m on tenterhooks.
Out of all the dates he’s been on last year, he only liked one woman but by the third date it transpired that she wanted to be chocked in bed.
‘I was just very honest with her and told her, look, I can’t provide you with that.’
Simon goes on like this, and on and on.
After a while, I notice that the fascination which had me for the first half hour has quickly transfigured into concern. How many anecdotes does this man have left?
‘Then there was Lisa. We were together for 2 years. Then she left me for her ex-boyfriend. He was a doctor.’
I zone out for a while, staring at the blue lamp protruded over the Monmouth coffee sign. It’s a beautiful lamp. Huge, oval and made of steel. It looks like the sort of lamp they would have had in shops in the day and maybe they did. Who knows?
When I tune back in, Simon is still at it.
‘Lisa was great but I still felt alone with her. That’s the thing. You can be in in a relationship with someone and still be alone.’
I take a deep breath.
‘Well, you’re certainly not making me feel very hopeful about the whole dating thing.’, I interject.
‘Oh no, you shouldn’t feel hopeless. There’s always hope.’, Simon says in his matter of fact way.
‘Is there?’ I ask.
‘Oh yes. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was worth it.’
‘But you’re basically confirming how impossible it is to meet someone decent.’
‘I’ve also had one amazing date in the South of France back when I was on holiday.’, he goes on.
‘What happened?’
‘Oh she moved back to Sweden.’
‘Right so that’s one amazing date in the 10 years you’ve been dating?!’ I ask.
‘11 years actually.’, he corrects
My eyes go to the blue lamp shade again. It’s a perfect lamp, and for some reason, I start imaging myself tying a knot there. This thought surprises me. I have never had suicidal thoughts but something about Simon’s anecdotes makes you think about tying knots on lamps.
‘But you have to remember I had one very good long-term relationship in South Africa. We were a truly, truly great match. I never felt lonely when I was with her.’, Simon explains.
This makes me sit up for a second. A tiny beacon of hope.
‘That’s wonderful. What happened with her?’
‘Oh she left me for a doctor.’ Simon says casually as if narrating what happened to someone else.
‘Again?’ I shrieck.
‘Yep. It’s an extraordinary coincidence if you think about it.’
This breaks me. It’s the last straw of an hour’s worth of morbid dating accounts. My head clonks down on my lap and I let out an involuntary cry of anguish.
‘Jesus Christ Simon. I’m trying to cheer up here.’
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