Politically Incorrect

My Friend I refuses to date anyone under 6"2. Should anyone on the dating websites she uses dare to exaggerate their height, she will take one look at them, accuse them of misrepresentation, and walk out. I is a dating veteran, and her stories alone – should anyone ever be blessed with enough time to write them up – could easily fill 3 volumes.

The date I had tonight was one big misrepresentation. He claimed he was human. (He also claimed he was 5"6, but perhaps he meant that he is 5"6 when he is on stilts.) He claimed (vociferously, and many times) that he was different from your average NW London Jewish guy. He claimed he defied categorisation. He does. I can’t work out whether to categorise him as arrogant, socially inept or completely self-delusional.

The conversation went like this: (I say conversation, but technically it was a monologue. I couldn’t get a word in, as he had so much to say for himself. Correction: he had so much to say about himself.)

Him: me, me, me, me, me, me… my wonderful house in Maida Vale… me, me, me, me, me, me… my extremely senior job in the Civil Service me, me, me, me, me, me… I’m a Fulbright Scholar [repeated about 5 times] me, me, me, me, me, me… my vast wealth me, me, me, me, me, me… the enormous pay-off I’m about to get me, me, me, me, me, me… I’m a D-List celebrity…

At this point, I choked. Unable to mask my disdain and sarcasm, I quipped that if he is going to achieve the dizzy heights of D-List celebrity, he may as well just appear on Big Brother and do it for free, without having to work for it. "Oh, I’ve been invited to appear on Big Brother many times," he said. (Invited?!) Then he proceeded to tell me that all politicians are neither bright nor skilled, do not have nearly as much life experience as him (although the only life experience he seems to have had is having briefly lived in New York), and there would be no point in him becoming a politician, as he is so brilliant at everything he does that it would be far too tedious for him to waste any time sitting on the back benches or even becoming the Secretary of State for something crap like Agriculture, when really, he should just be appointed Prime Minister straight away.

At this point, I got up to go to the loo, intending never to return. Just then, who should walk in but my friend I. I looked over at her desperately. Politico got up to greet her, and, looking horrified (mainly at his height), she mouthed "misrepresentation" at me and walked out. My phone lost reception at that point, and I was oblivious to the fact that she had sent me a series of text messages to say that she was sitting in the bar next door, waiting for me to leave, push him into the path of oncoming traffic, and join her for a celebratory glass of bubbly.

The food had arrived, so I had to stay for a while (plus, I was hungry). I decided to use my tried and tested method of man repellent (originally used in complete innocence, but it really does scare people when meeting me for the first time): I got out my food diary and vitamins and sent my food back to the kitchen. Amazingly, he was endeared by this, so I tried to put him off by giving him a 10 minute run down of all my dietary requirements. Not to be outdone (as obviously, he has benefited from every life experience imaginable), he claimed that he, too, had lost 40kg, but he had managed not to gain an ounce since. This is just as well in my opinion, as he looks horribly out of shape, and I cannot imagine him even running for the bus. I may have gained 9kg, but at least when I lost the weight, I made sure I was thinner than everyone else, and I only started gaining weight back the day I tried on a pair of 23 inch waist designer jeans in Selfridges and promptly fainted.

His verdict on me was that I am "quite bright" (quite bright??!!), "sparky", "urban" "a little brittle" and "energetic", and he would like to take me on holiday to Japan.

My verdict on the whole evening is that whatever I think I want, the bottom line is that if I don’t want to rip his clothes off on first sight, it is never going to work.

PS: The Irresponsible Cad has just texted me to inform me that he would like "whisky" and "naked cuddles". "Now." Which seems like a happy end to the evening.