No matter how hard I try the isolation of delusion keeps my frown firmly cemented in place.
Last Monday evening I attended a networking event for entrepreneurs. I am not an entrepreneur nor do I have any realistic aspirations of becoming one. I went because the winds of loneliness forced me. I figured people proactively talk to each other at these events so finally I could have some company outside of my working hours. I put on my best shirt and tie, gelled back my hair and thought if I stood in a corner with a certain look in my eye then for the first time since the recession somebody would talk to me. No one did.
I stood, one hand holding a glass, the other sweatily clenched in my pocket. After twenty five minutes of feeling like the victim of a Paul Daniels magic trick I decided to “network” with others.
After several dull conversations it became clear to me I was not on the same wavelength with anyone in the room. The length of a football match had passed by.I was down 2 nil: I looked like a complete loser amongst these bright ambitious go getters. I decided to leave.
As I was walking out I somehow managed to pluck up the courage to speak to the most beautiful girl in the room. She had smiled at me. A friendly smile; perhaps inspired by sympathy. Perhaps she had seen me drowning alone in the sea of networkers and decided to throw me a raft. No. That would never happen to me. I thought I had imagined her smile but proceeded nonetheless.
I immediately lowered my expectations. I saw a distinguished gentleman by her side complete with handkerchief in his suit jacket’s breast pocket. I assumed he had a pocket full of business cards displaying the words Private Banker or Fund Manager or even Fred Bayr’s Dream Crusher. But as I embarked upon my approach, somebody tapped his shoulder and led him away. I felt a wave of relief knowing my crap jokes, ugly looks, Tesco Value prawn cocktail crisps breath and nervous twitch could go unchallenged. I didn’t know what to expect but I began to feel confident.
I wasn’t in this for anything other than a conversation. Seriously.
We talked. She worked in venture capital but wanted to set up a cosmetics business. She asked me what my business was. Without pause and without knowing where the idea came from I told her it was under construction. I could say no more as I hadn’t secured the patent. The lie created an air of mystery. After years of working in sales lying is second nature to me. I am not proud of this.
She gave me a look that made me wish we were alone and stepped closer to me pointing her index finger. She began stroking my tie and complimenting my sartorial choices. I was making an emotional connection but then out of the blue, at the peak of my excitement, she said she needed to leave. I knew it was all too good to be true. Before she left she pulled out her phone and demanded we exchange numbers before we part. My fate was suffering from bipolar: down one minute, up the next.
The next day I called her to suggest we meet for a drink. She apologised three times before I could complete my invitation. She was tipsy the night before and “totally out of character”. I was a “really sweet guy” but she was “so busy with work and stuff” that she would have no time “ for the next few weeks”. She did suggest I “could call her then” by which point she will have undoubtedly changed her number. Expectation is a bastard. I felt like a kid tied to a chair and forced to watch his best friends munch his chocolate birthday cake down to the last crumb only to have it all vomited out on his face. To express myself honestly, I felt like crying. Everynight since,before I fall asleep, I try to figure out why she smiled at me in the first place...
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