I met her in the Social Club. She was with a guy I had been in a band with years ago.I assumed they were together. I remember thinking, why can’t I be with a girl like that? At the end of the night I went over to their table ostensibly to talk to him. But I really wanted to talk to her. As it turned out she wasn’t his girlfriend. We seemed to hit it off great. When the Social closed she asked me where I was going afterwards. He caught his bus home. We went to Yates and got more and more drunk. She kissed me but I was too drunk to really enjoy it.
Next day she texted about going to see Django Unchained. I was so hungover that I really didn’t want to go. But I did anyway because I thought she was pretty and that maybe we had a connection. The film lasted three torturous hours, and it was Sunday so we couldn’t go anywhere else afterwards. I walked her home. We kissed rather awkwardly and then I went.
Like the pedant that I am, I looked up online the year when dynamite was invented. It was about ten years after the film was set, and yet dynamite featured heavily in the plot.
We went on another date the next Saturday and I came to the realisation that we had nothing in common. I didn’t text her again.
The following week I ran into her again at a nightclub.
‘I’m confused’, she said.
‘Are you?’ I replied.
I explained that I didn’t feel a connection. The music was blasting really loud. She said something that I couldn’t hear at first. She had to repeat it about four times. Eventually I heard her.
‘No spark’, she said.
‘Yeah’, I replied.