It's 11.30pm and I'm in the front room of Kim's house in Leeds. I'm slightly surprised I'm here, given the Platform 14 Lunging Incident in July. At the end of our first meeting, she slapped me sharply on the arm as I attempted an osculatory manoeuvre at the station. I felt embarrassed for a while afterwards, but she got in touch, and now I'm staying at her house this weekend while I finish the MA and go to the cricket tomorrow at Headingly. In the car from the station she said she usually goes for slightly controlling men and immediately I knew there was no possibility of going to bed with her.
Her house (which she described as a "hovel"), looks like my mum and dad's, which is also rented: that wallpaper which has a border where a dado rail should be, mottled pale turquoise and creme stripes below it, then blue fleurs de lys on a yellow background above it. It's not a hovel, it's just not yours.
We chatted for a while, me struggling to find a pose which would project an image of myself that was slightly more relaxed than how I felt. She likes dancing and mentioned something going on in Leeds in a fortnight.
I think she feels a bit anxious about being a host. She went to bed while I work on the MA but came down to leave me some Pro Plus, some chilli chocolate and to apologise for the lack of any more wine.
Edit, 2.50am Monday morning. There's a bit of tidying up to do and references to check, but my dissertation is for most practical purposes over. I didn't imagine I'd finish it in the house of a woman I met on a dating site. Kim's hospitable and very helpful, taking me to and picking me up from the cricket today, making some sandwiches for us. I wish I didn't feel faintly nervous around her. She's a kind soul, but I can't find a topic that lasts more than a couple of minutes.
