This is just a bit of fun. I know I'm two days early for Valentine's day, but I won't be around on Monday. I've avoided physical descriptions of the men, but have tried to give a hint as to their identities. Who does Caroline choose? Who would you choose? :-)
Warning - one of them is a trick. So far only 4 people have guessed correctly!
Yeah for Nithu - the first and only person to get all 7 right! (No cheating and peeking at her review!)
~o~O~o~
Caroline felt the jitters as soon as she entered the hall. She'd never done anything like this before, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to do it now. Oh yes – her friend had worn her down with 'you've been single for long enough' and 'we've got to find you a man!'
Why? Why did she have to find a man? She was perfectly happy being a singleton: she didn't have to consult someone else when making decisions, she could watch whatever she wanted on the TV without having to make 'deals,' she slept in a fart and snore-free bed, and she wasn't constantly having to pick up dirty pants that had been thrown in the corner of the bathroom. Besides – her cat was more than enough company for her.
Wasn't he?
Come on, girl – you can do this. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Anyway, she had no choice – her friend was waiting right outside, ready to steer her back onto the path of true love if she strayed.
She groaned inwardly and approached the desk: there was a queue for registration, and, as she waited, she took a moment to glance around the room, taking care not to stare at anyone.
Seven men were seated at small desks which were spread around the hall in a rough semi-circle. They were a mixed bunch: some young, some older; some good-looking, others with more…'interesting' faces. I hope they aren't all weirdoes, she thought. I bet there's at least one; my money's on No.3.
As her turn at the desk came, her nose wrinkled as it was assaulted by the aftershaves and colognes worn by the men, which, in combination, became more than the sum of their parts - resulting in a distinctive bouquet with neat whiskey as the top note, and creosote as the base note.
The rules were explained to her – she would sit at each desk in turn and, after two minutes, would move onto the next. She was given a short questionnaire to fill out, which she could exchange with any of the men - who had also filled one out – if she wished.
Eventually, Caroline's turn came. She took a deep breath as she approached the table of man No.1. Good start, she thought – he had the face of an angel. I bet he's a model. Hmm…maybe not much upstairs. We'll see.
"Hi!" he greeted her with enthusiasm.
"Hello," she said as she took a seat.
"Isn't this exciting?" he trilled. "Just think…you could meet the love of your life in this very room!"
"Well, I won't know that until I've talked to everyone," she laughed.
"But it's so romantic," he said with a sigh, his eyes misting over. "They make movies about things like this. I'm an actor, you know…well, actually, I haven't had my big break yet, but one day I'll be one of the greats…a film legend. They'll be talking about me in centuries to come!"
Ok, she thought. You're obviously the nutcase. I knew there had to be at least one here, and I'm getting you out of the way now. Is the two minutes up, yet?
"You could be my leading lady," he continued, seemingly oblivious to her sceptical look. "Two lonely people meet over a table in a grey, nameless, rain-swept city…just think…"
"Have you been to many auditions?" she asked.
"A few," he said with a shrug, "but they didn't get back to me. I expect they had too many other people to see, and forgot. But I'll get there one day," he vowed, his eyes glazing over once again. "One day you'll see my name in lights, and what a glorious day that will be when you do!"
"Right – good luck to you!" she said with a bland smile, pushing her chair back.
"But – they haven't called time, yet," he protested.
"Oh, I'm sure I heard…"
"Time's up!"
"Oh, such a shame," she commiserated. "Well it was nice talking to you," she said as turned to leave.
"Hi!" she heard him call to the next girl, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Man No.2 stood as she approached, and pulled out her chair.
"Oh, thank you!" she said in surprise. "Not many men do that for ladies anymore."
"Well, some may think me old-fashioned," he explained as he took his seat, "but let them. Good manners don't cost anything, do they?"
"No, they don't," she agreed with a smile.
"Well, it's nice to meet you. It's a pity it's not in, well, better surroundings. So…tell me a little about yourself – Caroline," he said, looking at her name badge.
"Well, I filled out my questionnaire, it's all there for you to see," she said, handing him a copy.
"Yes, I had to fill in one of those, as well," he replied, "but they don't tell you a thing; I mean, look at some of these questions – 'what is your favourite colour?' 'What is your astrological sign?' They don't tell me a thing about the real you."
"Well, the answers are 'red' and 'Taurus', if you're interested," she informed him, "but I believe you're the one on the spot today, so you tell me, first!"
Man No.2 laughed and waggled his finger at Caroline. "You're a crafty one," he teased. "But I'm not prepared to give up all of my secrets just yet. Blue and Capricorn – that's all you're getting from me," he said with a wink.
I like him – he's a bit of a charmer, she thought.
"Time's up!"
Caroline snapped her fingers in mock annoyance and stood up.
"It seems my secrets are safe, for now," he said with a warm smile, which she returned, and moved onto the next table.
Man No.3 was the only man in the room who looked like he didn't want to be there. He sat hunched in his chair with his arms firmly folded, and scowled at everything that moved – reserving a particularly scathing look for man No.1. He wasn't handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but his face had a character that Caroline found intriguing.
"You should know I am only here under duress," he said crisply as Caroline took a seat.
"Oh?" she mumbled.
"A so-called friend of mine decided it was about time I got out and started meeting women again," he explained, fixing Caroline with a penetrating stare. "What about you?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "What's your excuse for being here?"
"Same thing," she said wryly. "A well-meaning friend decided I'd been single for long enough, and kept on and on at me until she wore me down."
"Let me guess. You only came along to shut her up," he ventured.
"I see we have something in common already," she answered.
No.3 shook his head. "And I suppose your friend is happily married, sickeningly in love, and feels the need for her poor, sad, lonely single friend to experience the same level of rapture that she does on a daily basis?" he asked with a cutting edge to his voice, and, as Caroline nodded in agreement, he continued. "Precisely. My friend has taken pity on me in a similar fashion. Quite frankly, it's nauseating."
Beneath the cynicism, Caroline felt she could detect a laconic sense of humour in this man, and smiled at him, taking him by surprise. "So, what's your story?" she asked.
"My story? Well, this is the point where most people look at their hands and mumble insincere apologies," he said, unfolding his arms and leaning forward a little. "My wife died three years ago and I've been single ever since. As I said, my friend thinks I need company, so here I am."
Caroline did not look at her hands, nor did she mumble apologies. Instead, she met his gaze and nodded in understanding.
"What's your story?" he asked.
"Are you really interested?" she replied.
"Not in the slightest," he answered dryly. "I'm just passing the time."
"Time's up!"
"Well, you won't have to be subjected to my story, now," she said with a grin as she stood up.
"Pity," he said with a hint of a smile. "You're a refreshing change from the orange-skinned, pneumatically-enhanced bottle-blondes I've spoken to so far. The last one spent two minutes telling me how much she loves her dog, Mr. Snookums," he said, his mouth twisting in disgust. "She had the bloody thing in her bag."
Caroline wished No.3 luck against the bimbos and moved onto No.4, a bookish-looking fellow, who peered up at her warily over his glasses. He wore a frayed woollen jumper, and picked at a loose thread on one of the sleeves.
"Good morning," Caroline said as she took a seat.
"Morning," he said in a soft, quiet voice. "I, erm – I'm a web designer," he explained. "I work from my basement – that's why I'm so pale," he said with a sheepish grin.
"You must be very intelligent to do something like that," she said. "I can just about surf the web – that's my limit."
"Oh, I wouldn't say I was that intelligent," he answered modestly. "Anyone could do it really. What-what do you do? If you don't mind me asking?"
"No, I don't mind," she answered. "I'm a personal trainer."
"Oh, really? What's that like?" he asked.
"It's all right," she replied with a chuckle, "if you don't mind watching women's wobbly bits wobble all day long."
No.4's eyes widened and he grasped the back of his neck. "I-I can imagine," he said with a nervous laugh.
"So I see," Caroline chuckled.
No.4 fumbled in his pockets, finally producing his inhaler, which he took two puffs of.
"Are you alright?" Caroline asked. "You've gone bright red!"
"Yes…I, um…I'm not very good at this sort of thing," he stammered. "I work odd hours, and don't get to meet many wom…erm, people."
"That's a pity – maybe you should change your hours," she suggested.
"W-well, I have deadlines to meet, but I suppose I could try," he answered.
"Here," she said, reaching into her bag and handing him a leaflet. "Come along to the gym sometime. You'll meet loads of people there; they're a good bunch. Ask for Caroline, and I'll show you around."
Pocketing the leaflet, he grinned at her. "I won't have to…look at the wobbly bits, will I?" he asked.
"Well, there's nothing to stop you, I suppose, but I'd advise discretion," she said with a laugh.
"Time's up!"
"Well, erm, it was nice to meet you," No.4 said.
"You, too. I think you're doing great," she replied. No.4 grinned shyly and shrugged his shoulders. "You keep smiling like that, and you'll be fine, I promise," she reassured him. "Come to the gym."
"I-I will," he promised, turning red once again.
As she moved toward No.5's table, it became clear who was wearing the aftershave; it wasn't a cheap brand, but he wore so much of it, the back of her throat burned. He was handsome, and he clearly knew it; he obviously took care of himself, and was immaculately turned out in designer threads.
"How do," he said casually in greeting as she sat down.
"How do, yourself," she replied. "I haven't heard that said since I was last up north."
"Ah, I use it to catch people out," he confessed, waggling his eyebrows. "Anyone who doesn't know 'how do' is not my sort of person," he said with a laugh, leaning forward and beckoning her closer. "What do you need to go speed-dating for?" he asked with a boyish grin. "You're the prettiest girl in the whole room. Why don't we dump these jokers and go and find our own fun?"
"You really have a silver tongue, don't you?" she asked, trying her best not to smile but failing pathetically.
"Now, there's no need to be rude," he replied with mock indignation, folding his arms.
I like his sense of humour, she thought. Wait a minute…is he wearing fake tan? Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
A faint buzzing sound could be heard, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve his mobile phone. "'Scuse me just a sec," he said as he flipped it open. "What?" he mumbled into the phone. "No, no…can't talk…busy. Yes, busy. Never mind what. Yeah, yeah, yeah…ok, see you later. Yep. You, too. Bye."
"Your mother?" Caroline asked sceptically.
"Funnily enough, it was!" he said quickly – a little too quickly – as he fidgeted in his chair. "She just worries about me, you know…erm…not that I'm a mommy's boy or anything, you understand," he added, scratching the back of his head and grimacing slightly.
"Oh, of course not," she answered as time was called again. "Nice talking to you," she said as she pushed her chair back.
"Yeah, you too!" he called out, taking his phone out and switching it off. "Knickers!" he muttered under his breath.
Now, he is handsome, Caroline thought as she approached No.6's table. He obviously worked out regularly, and wore a very tight top to accentuate his buff physique. What a body! He could be a self-obsessed prat, though…
No.6 leapt to his feet and pulled her chair out for her. "Oh, thank you! Nice to see another gentleman," she said.
"You're welcome!" he chirped, glancing around the room. "What do you make of all this?" he asked. "It's a bit like a meat market, isn't it? Not really what I was expecting."
"What did you expect, then?" she asked.
"I dunno," he shrugged. "Just not this…I mean, look at her," he said, nodding toward a woman currently sat at No.4's table. "She's wearing next to nothing! The poor fellow doesn't know where to look!"
"Oh? You disapprove of scantily-clad women, then?" she asked with a smile.
"Not in principle, no," he chuckled, turning pink as he spoke. "I just don't like a woman who tries too hard, that's all," he explained. "I mean, look at you…you look like you've hardly gone to any effort at all."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, God! I-I didn't mean it like that!" he spluttered. "Erm…what I meant to say was, your look is effortless," he said hastily, looking at her in horror.
To his utter relief, she laughed. "I think there's a compliment in there somewhere," she said, finding his embarrassment endearing.
"Oh, thank heavens for that!" he exclaimed. "I'm really sorry…I'm a bit of an arse around pretty girls," he said with a lop-sided grin. "Do you think we could start again?" he asked, looking like a naughty puppy.
"Time's up!"
"Aw," he whined as Caroline stood up.
"Maybe we can talk afterwards," she said with an encouraging smile.
"Wha…really?" he asked. "I mean…not that I want to seem over-eager or anything…"
She nodded at him, and walked over to No.7's table with a smile on her face, thinking that maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
Man No.7 sat ramrod-straight in his chair and nodded curtly as she sat down. "Morning," he said briskly.
"Good morning," she replied. "What brings you here?"
"Well, I don't get much time to socialise with my job, so I thought I'd give this a bash," he answered.
"Oh? What do you do for a living?" she asked.
"I'm a copper," he said quietly with a faint smile, "but don't let that get around."
"Oh, I won't say a word," she whispered with a knowing grin. "Are you from the station on Broad Street?"
"Yes – I'm a Sergeant. We're recruiting at the moment," he said with a weary sigh.
"How's that going?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't know where they're getting these recruits from, honestly, I don't. Soft as cotton wool, they are – or, if not, they're soft in the head."
"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence," she laughed.
"Nor should it," he answered. "You look quite fit, and you seem to have more than two brain cells to rub together – I reckon we could make an officer of you."
"What?" she asked in astonishment. "You want to recruit me?"
"Why not?" he replied. "There aren't enough women on the force, and I need all the help I can get."
"Time's up!"
"I'm sorry, but it's not for me," she said as she stood up. "It was nice talking to you, though."
"Yes, you too," he answered, offering his hand, which Caroline shook. "Stay safe."
The speed date over, Caroline returned to the desk, where she was given a list of the men's names. "Put a cross next to any you would be interested in seeing again," the girl at the desk explained. "The men will do the same, and when you get home, go on the website. If you and one of the men have crossed each other, you will be able to exchange contact details."
"Ok – thank you," said Caroline, taking a final look around the room, her eyes settling on one man in particular, finding that he was looking back at her. He raised his hand, and traced an 'X' in the air with his finger.
She smiled and nodded at him, tracing her own 'X' in the air. Turning back to the table, she placed a cross next to man No.6.
