Bonds of Love. Sarah K
one of the big problems with the relationship I had with Max was that he kept everything close to his chest and kept different aspects of his life in separate compartments. The problems had started when the walls between them had started to crumble – and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go through that with someone else.
I had to remind myself that comparisons are never a good thing. Even without knowing that much about Alex, I could already tell that he and Max were like chalk and cheese.
Max was always very formal, old school, with a refined, restrained manner in public and in private, whereas Alex seemed relaxed and – I hunted around for the right words to describe how he seemed; the best I could come up with was that he seemed emotionally available and generous, rather than closed off.
While I was thinking, Cash was asking how long we’d known each other.
Alex looked heavenwards. ‘Excuse my friend,’ he said. ‘He always was nosey. If you must know, Cash, this is our first date and I brought Sarah here to impress her.’
‘So, failed at the first hurdle then,’ said Cash philosophically. ‘Don’t judge him too harshly, Sarah. He’s not so bad once you get to know him. Although I could tell you a few stories about when we were at –’
‘Well, don’t,’ said Alex, holding up a hand to silence him. ‘I’d like to think we can have more than one date. Anyway, I don’t know about Sarah but I’m absolutely famished, so as we’re not going to be eating here can you suggest somewhere else local where we can go?’ Alex asked.
Cash sighed. ‘You want me to recommend the opposition?’
Alex nodded. ‘Preferably open and not too far away.’
Cash now looked heavenwards. ‘Okay …’
Which was how we ended up sitting in a tiny little café on the seafront, less than a mile from Cash’s place, eating fish and chips out of the paper. The place itself looked as if it hadn’t changed much since the 1960s, but it was right on the promenade, was really busy and had the most fabulous view out over the sea, where that day the sky was so bright and so blue that it made my eyes water. Through the open door we could hear the gulls calling and squabbling as they spiralled above the incoming tide, while a flotilla of little boats bobbed at anchor in the tiny harbour.
The only place to eat inside the café was a high Formica-covered shelf that ran around the walls, which was about eighteen inches wide, dotted with glass salt and vinegar shakers and had bar stools tucked under it. Though the décor was very basic, nothing could detract from just how good the fish and chips were.
‘Your friend was right. This is amazing,’ I said, breaking off some more of the milky white fish flakes with my fingers and popping them into my mouth. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had fish and chips. It’s really delicious.’
Alex grinned. ‘It’s not exactly what I had in mind. I was planning to woo you with my sophisticated charms and fine dining. Not fish and chips and a can of Fanta.’
I liked his easy charm and the way he wasn’t fazed by the change of events and venue.
I smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m really enjoying this.’
‘Me too,’ he said, guiding a chip into his mouth. ‘It’s really tasty.’
So far, despite the shaky start, it was going really well. Better than well. It might not have been posh nosh, but we were having a great time. Alex was good company: funny, quick, and he seemed easy-going. He had spent a lot of his life travelling for his job and had loads of stories to tell, which he managed to do without sounding as if he was bragging or showing off. He made me laugh and he was happy to listen – and I knew he really was listening by the things he asked me. So far, so good. Alex had quiet self-assurance that was attractive and nice eyes that were hard to ignore.
I’ve got lots of rules about internet dating, one of them being to have a safe call in place so that a friend knows where I am and that I’m okay – in my case it was a text from a friend. If I am okay, I text back a pre-arranged reply. Anything else, including no reply, and she calls out the cavalry. The pre-arranged text is also a painless way to cut a bad date short. It goes like this: the text comes in, I peer at the screen, pull an anxious face, make my excuses and leave. With Alex my text from Gabbie had come and gone and we were still talking.
We had told each other about our jobs and families and gone through all the niceties that need to be gone through, before moving on to what had really brought us together for lunch. It was just a question of who broached the subject first.
‘Have you been on many of these kinds of things?’ Alex asked, dipping a chip into a little pot of sauce.
‘You mean internet dates or trips to the chip shop?’
He laughed. ‘Let’s go with the dating first, shall we?’
‘A few. Some straight and some –’ I glanced over my shoulder at the other customers who were sitting no more than a couple of feet away from us, busily tucking into their own food. This was really not the place to go into the finer points of BDSM dating.
‘Not so straight,’ Alex suggested with a grin, catching my eye and, I suspect, my discomfort.
‘Exactly, and it’s been fun. I’ve met some really great people and some interesting ones and –’
‘And ones that developed into a relationship?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. Just the one.’
‘So far,’ Alex added with a smile.
‘Yes, so far,’ I conceded. ‘My last relationship, his name was Max and I met him online on the same site where you found my profile.’
‘And is this the one that was complicated?’
I nodded. ‘I’m glad you were listening. Yes, it was complicated, but it was also wonderful – really good. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
‘But it ended?’
‘I ended it,’ I said, and turned my attention back to my lunch.
I could see Alex watching my face, a clear invitation that he wanted to hear more, but I wasn’t ready to tell him about Max and most certainly not in a crowded chip shop at the seaside.
‘Long story,’ I said, after a moment or two’s silence. ‘It’s probably best saved for another time. How about you?’ I asked.
‘I’ve met a few women from the site we met on.’ He looked round at the two plump elderly women sitting behind me, both cheerfully devouring their cod and chips and apparently oblivious to our conversation. ‘Although I have done some online dating before. Tell you what,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy going for a walk once we’ve finished these? It might be easier to talk?’
Clearly he was right, but I hesitated before agreeing. Among my rules about internet dating is not putting myself in a situation where I’m alone with my date or away from other people.
I glanced out of the café window. Although it was late spring and the wind was fresh as it whipped in from the sea, there were quite a few people about, all well wrapped up against the cold, some of them walking dogs, some watching the boats bobbing about in the harbour, some just out for a stroll. Busy enough to be safe, I decided.
‘Okay,’ I said.
This meeting with Alex was very different from my first meeting with Max. When Max and I had met he had sent me a set of very precise instructions about how he wanted me to dress on our first date, and all kinds of formal terms and conditions about the nature of our relationship. When I’d asked Alex about what he wanted me to wear he’d said, ‘Wear anything you want; I just want to meet you and get to know you. See how we get along. For me, it’s about who you are, not whether you’ve got a mini-skirt and high heels on – although I like both of those things.’
So I’d taken Alex at his word and worn trousers and boots, which would