THOM Logan, aged 28, is meant to be dating 26-year-old Lauren Hewitt but fancies the girl on the next table along way more. Will this be a problem?
Lauren on Thom
First impression?
A really great profile with a strong chin and Roman nose. Which I spent most of the evening viewing like he was on a coin as his head remained at a 90 degree angle.
How was conversation?
Difficult, as it wasn’t directed at me. Instead he was permanently facing the stunning girl eating alone at the next table and every word was spoken to her and to her cleavage.
Memorable moments?
When he dropped his napkin on the floor in the hope that she would pick it up. My two-year-old nephew Toby does that to annoy his mum.
Favourite thing about Thom?
I didn’t have to worry about how I looked. I remained wholly unobserved.
A capsule description?
‘You’re on a date with me, dickhead!’ shouted at volume.
Was there a spark?
Between us, no. Between them, no. She clearly just wanted to read her book in peace. That’s why she sent back the six different drinks he’d bought for her over two hours.
What happened afterwards?
I stormed out when he offered her some of my vanilla creme brulee and, when she gave in to his insistence, tried to feed it to her. I was worried he’d chase after me and make a scene but it was probably 20 minutes before he noticed I’d gone.
What would you change about the evening?
Our table. I would’ve preferred something by a window, away from the kitchen and next to a middle-aged woman with a moustache.
Will you see each other again?
If we did he wouldn’t recognise me.
Thom on Lauren
First impression?
Bloody hell, she is absolutely gorgeous. I think she’s my dream woman. All I need is to engineer a slick shift of tables.
How was conversation?
Excellent. With remarkable intelligence and stealth, I prioritised the stone-cold fox next door but also kept things open my date in case the hottie didn’t work out. I addressed the air between them so that either could respond. Or both. A three-way conversation. Subtlety in action.
Memorable moments?
When Lauren threw a breadstick at that poor girl’s cleavage in the hope of getting my attention. I just wanted to know what she was reading, that’s why I was looking down. Good throw though, lodged beautifully.
Favourite thing about Lauren?
I think she has brown hair…?
A capsule description?
Disappointing reluctance to act as a wingman. She’d never make the best friend in a romcom.
Was there a spark?
No, sadly, she showed a worrying devotion to her own solitude. I think she’s been hurt before. Oh, with the one I was dating? No.
What happened afterwards?
The fox wouldn’t take my number. I blame the baggage I’d brought along.
What would you change about the evening?
The waiter would have agreed to the plan where I go to the loo and he shows me back to the hot girl’s table, instead of taking my £20 then f**king me off.
Will you see each other again?
Found her on Insta, following her on six fake accounts, arranging an accidental casual encounter on Friday when she’s at the art gallery opening. You didn’t mean Lauren, did you? That’s over.
