I returned from Paris feeling satiated. All my romantic and physical needs had been taken care of by Alain. Maxime had been dismissed and Fyodor was far away in Russia because that’s where he lives. This left only Harry, based in London, who I was looking forward to dating as soon as he’d finished some crucial maths exams. I had no need for anything else in the meantime and I wanted to get back to work. Then people started reminding me that I promised I would come out and meet them, arrangements that I made several weeks ago when I was in another mood. I managed to deter a couple of people at least temporarily but felt I should fulfil a date for Monday evening, in fact, last night, because it had taken a while to set up. Gah. I just wanted to stay indoors and play video games or do something useful, but no, I had to put on a dress and go out.
As if my love life needed further complications, just when I’d straightened everything out, the guy turned out be really nice. So inconvenient. He is a Cockney, with a proper Cockney accent, and he is an artist, in fact, a painter, so we are calling him David Chockney, ha ha, I slay myself. He used to be a builder and then he found out he could paint and people noticed and now he’s famous. That’s the short story.
He’s my age. He’s 51. I know absolutely nothing about this age group. All my dating experience is with people in their 20s; they look attractive and they are fun and spontaneous. No-one is looking for a committed relationship and despite my romantic banter with Maxime, I’m not even sure I still know what one involves. Chockney is fit and very good looking for his age, I bet he was stunning at 25. He’s surprisingly self-effacing and softly-spoken. I would be really full of myself if I were a well-known artist. He was interesting, he knows a lot about art, even though he says he knows nothing, and he likes me. He said that he would prefer to be in a relationship. He said ‘I’ve been on my own for a long time, too long really’. These are terms that I don’t fully understand any more. I don’t know what ‘on my own’ means or how that’s different from just being alive and going about your normal, everyday business. I asked him why he wanted to be in a relationship. He said ‘Honestly, it will be better for developing my painting’ and I thought that was a good answer, if there is one. Better than some shit about being afraid to be old and alone.
Anyway. I tried to put him off as much as possible by smoking while on the date, saying ‘fuck’ and talking about my extensive experience of dating models who are half my age but he was undeterred and it seems like we’re on for a second date.
I finally get to see Harry (24) on Thursday. We’ve waited so long and so much has happened since we first met. We are going to the opera on Thursday and then we’ll see what happens. And that, readers, is the point where you are finally all caught up with Starry Skies. What an epically romantic time it has been. From this point, you know as much as I do. We will all have to wait and see what happens in upcoming episodes as Harry and Chockney become love rivals.