So, get this: this bloke, Daniel, asked me out for a walkwhen it was minus five outsidebecause only gold-diggers sit in cafes. I showed up wrapped up in a ski suit and thermal underwear.
His name was Daniel Barker. In his pictures, he looked like a pretty average guy in his mid-thirties, put together, nothing odd or flashy. His profile went on about mindfulness, personal development, and how he was after a real, genuine soul. Honestly, that shouldve been a red flag straight awayIve learned that the more a man bangs on about wanting a real woman, the more hes probably just after someone who wont ask for anything, someone low-maintenance.
We messaged for a couple of days. Daniel was polite, though there was something a little off about his tone now and then. He especially loved ranting about how, in his opinion, modern women were ruined by money.
All they want nowadays are restaurants, holidays in the Maldives, and the latest iPhones, he wrote. Nobody wants to connectjust go for a stroll and have a chat.
I, being well brought-up, nodded alongmentally, anywayand tried my best to steer the chat elsewhere. Everyones got a bit of baggage, right? Maybe his ex-wife left him homeless or just wore down his illusionswho knows. I try not to judge too early.
Anyway, then he suggests meeting up. Only problemthe middle of February. Not just cold, but bitter, the sort that bites straight through you. It was minus five, but with the wind it felt even worse. The Met Office had put out a weather warning, and everyone was being told not to go out unless absolutely necessary.
Lets meet in the park, Daniel writes. We can walk, breathe in the air, get to know each other without all the faffing about.
I reply, Daniel, its freezing outside. Well be icicles in ten minutes. Fancy popping into a coffee shop instead?
He didnt waste a second.
I dont go to cafes, he texts back. Only gold-diggers hang about there hoping for a free meal. I want a life partner wholl go through thick and thinand a bit of coldwith me. If its really that important to you that I spend a fiver on coffee, then were not right for each other.
Well, curiosity got the better of me. I had to see this champion of pure relationshipsfor whom an Americano symbolised financial slaveryup close.
Fine, I texted. Park it is, see you at the main gate at seven.
Getting dressed took ages. I dragged out my thermal base layers, warm jumper, and finished off with my ski gear. Pulled on thick boots, woolly socks, and a trapper hat. Honestly, the person in the mirror looked ready to run the Iditarod.
Alright, Daniel, here we go, I muttered, winked at my reflection, and braced myself for the ice-cold night.
Bang on seven, I was at the park entrance. The cold bit at my cheeksthe only part of me not covered. The snow crunched underfoot and there was not a soul around. Any sane person, including those supposedly money-grabbing women, had stayed inside in the warmth.
Daniel was there, waiting in a light autumn coat, shuffling from foot to foot, jumping to keep warm, huffing warm air onto his hands. His nose was already a lovely shade of purple, and his ears were blazing red.
I ambled over.
Hi, I said, muffled through my scarf.
He gave me a once over, clearly expecting some dainty creature in sheer tights, shivering prettily so he could play the hero. Instead, he was faced with someone that looked like they were headed to rescue a mountaineer off Ben Nevis.
Hello, he replied through chattering teeth. You really came prepared.
Well, you said through thick and thin, so I figured wed start with the cold. Shall we walk and soak up all this fresh air?
And thenshow time.
Off we trudged down the path. Easily one of the strangest first dates Ive ever had.
How do you like the weather? I asked, trying to make small talk.
Its invigorating, he managed, his face already barely moving, just his lips working (and turning blue). I love winter, it really tests what youre made of.
Absolutely, I nodded. So, about those gold-diggers. Why exactly is grabbing a coffee such a sign of moral decline?
It was clearly painful for him to talkthe air burned going downbut he ploughed on for the sake of his principles:
Because er he stammered, relationships should be about connecting, not wallets. If a woman needs to be treated to coffee straight away, it means shes only after what she can get.
But what if she just doesnt fancy pneumonia? I asked, adjusting my hood.
Thats just an excuse, he shot back, snuffling loudly. If you want something, youll find a way. Dress warmer, thats all.
And look, I did! I replied, waving to show off my ridiculous winter kit. But you look a bit underprepared. You sure youre alright?
Im fine! he snapped, but he was shaking so much even I could see it in the half-light.
About ten minutes in, we reached the park square. There was a coffee shackshut tight for the winter. Daniel looked at it with the longing of a character in some tragic Victorian novel.
Maybe we should head back? he managed. The winds really picking up.
Oh, you think? Weve only just started! Werent you after some deep soul-searching? Lets talk about books. Ever read Jack London? Fabulous storyTo Build a Firewhere a chap freezes to death because he didnt take the cold seriously.
He stared at me as though hed just met his doom.
Listen, I I need to go, he stuttered. Somethings come up. Urgent.
What? We had plans for tonight.
Work! Just remembered Ive got to send off a report.
At eight on a Friday?
Yes! he nearly shouted.
He spun on his heel and almost ran to the exit. I followed at a nice pace, very satisfiedmy survivalist had lasted exactly fifteen minutes.
At the tube station, he didnt even bother with a goodbyejust bolted straight for the warm air underground. I really hope he defrosted more than just his fingersmaybe even his ideas too, although I wouldnt bet on it.
Back home, I made myself a cuppa, deleted Daniels number and our messages. No regrets. Those fifteen minutes were an excellent vaccine against guiltand a lovely reminder that looking after yourself does not make you a gold-digger.
