That was the first no-no on the 'date night' I was so looking forward to. The second one came when I realised how much he doesn't look the same as I remember him. Gone are the sexy curls and playful attitude. They've made way for the dilated pupils of someone who clearly smoked a joint before arriving on his Harley. With that comes the lack of dress sense and the ability to ignore the fact that my message said 'fancy' restaurant. He sauntered down the stairs carrying his helmet, wearing an old t-shirt.
Out came the rollies - before we'd even had time to order a drink. And he didn't drink. But that didn't stop him from being loud. 'So this is all for free? And we can eat anything we want?!' he shouted, making it clear to all the tables around us that we were there because I was doing a review on the restaurant.
The way he ate didn't do much to save his case, plunging his fork into the fattoushe as if he hadn't eaten all day - but he had, I asked him (Chinese stir-fry that his mother made). And then in the middle of my attempt at conversation (because we have nothing in common!) he proceeded to make a phonecall and send some SMSes.
I was all too happy when he said he goes to bed at midnight. It meant I could send him off at 11pm, insisting that he needed to get his rest (or another joint), while I sat and savoured the last bit of my pistachio ice cream, finding comfort in the sound of the sea lapping up against the wall behind me.
Talk about five years of change!