reasons why I'm single (part 4 of a 78 part series)

I admit that most of the reasons in this series are to do with my social ineptitude; but once in a while it isn't my fault. Every so often I get to blame someone else's social ineptitude.

I went on a blind date a short while ago. Until recently the very idea of that statement would have brought a little sick up in my mouth - but I've given up worrying about these things now and I was at a loss for something to do.

I say it was a blind date but actually I had met the woman before. I knew her to be incredibly intelligent, attractive, complex... unreliable. So when I arrived at the restaurant right on time I wasn't surprised to receive a text from her saying she was running late and I should just go on in and wait. That's never a good look - the sitting at a restaurant table by yourself knocking back glass after glass of sparkling spring water; so I didn't. I checked at the desk to make sure the table was in order and, since it was a pleasant evening, waited outside for my date to arrive.

While I was waiting I people watched. There are three restaurants very close together at that end of Coleraine and they were all really busy. I watched an arguing couple arrive and make their way into one of the restaurants - the wife ordering her husband not to make a scene "like the last time." I watched a little old lady, so stooped that her face seemed inches from the ground, struggle to get out of a volvo - the young driver (her son?) making no effort to help her and seemingly growing impatient at her difficulty. I watched a car arrive at some speed and cruise round the car park looking for a space. There was only one and a mercedes in the next bay was over the lines, making the available bay tight - maybe too tight. The driver thought it worth a try anyway and began to squeeze into the space. 'She'll never make it at that angle' I thought aloud. She didn't - but that didn't stop her trying. Seconds later there was a gut wrenching screech as her black car scraped along the metallic silver paint job of the Mercedes.

There was a pause. Then, instead of pulling out and trying a better angle, the driver pushed further forward and the screeching started up again. My teeth were on edge just watching it from 20 yards away. Eventually the driver gave up and pulled out to change the angle. It was then that I noticed I hadn't taken a breath for a while - so I took a quick gulp of air. The driver changed the angle and went in for a second attempt. And got it completely wrong again. The screeching began even sooner than the previous attempt and sounded, if anything, louder and more painful. And there was no pause this time. The driver pushed on through until she had squeezed her little car completely into the space - and left a huge scar in its expensive neighbour.

The stooped old lady had witnessed the whole thing, and with a look that suggested she may know the owner of the Mercedes, took off surprisingly quickly to inform them that their car had been abused. In some cruel, twisted way I was enjoying the spectacle and began to hope my date would be a bit later so I could see what happened next. What did happen next was that the driver of the little black car was clearly spooked by the old lady sprinting for the restaurant, and pulled out of the space, scraping up the side of the Merc one last time - in reverse - before taking off round the back of the building. Seconds later a large, red faced man came running out of the restaurant and practically began to wail when he saw the side of his car. The old lady was at his side and was looking around, searching for the black car. I too looked to see where it was hidden. It was then that I saw it, parked round the side of the restaurant, and my date was getting out of the drivers seat.

With barely a flick of her hair and a deep breath she made her way to the restaurant, her long elegant strides seemingly effortless, even on some of the highest heels I'd ever seen. As I met her by the door she proffered her cheek for a kiss and apologised for being late, saying she'd "had a little trouble finding a parking space."

I was dumbstruck. We went on to have a lovely meal, full of incredible conversation - and all I could think of was what she'd done to that car - and just how easily she was able to act like nothing had happened. There is no doubt that she is an amazing person, and whoever she chooses to share her life with will be one incredibly fortunate man - but I knew there and then it wouldn't be me. How could I go out with someone knowing that the more I saw her the more chance there'd be that the car beside the only available parking space would someday be mine.