The Choker

A favourite of mine is a date I refer to as ‘The Choker’. I actually went on five dates with this guy which is quite substantial in comparison to other dates. He was a skilled tradesman in his early 30s with simple tastes. He owned his own house, cared for his brother and was generally a good guy. The conversation wasn’t as complex as I would like and often it was me creating it, however it was always pleasant.

Although on first meeting there was no instant chemistry, he was somewhat attractive and gentlemanly. Date 1 involved attending a trivia night. Now I am not very good at trivia. I can remember small bits of information here and there or specific information of a select few areas, but I usually rely on my textbooks and Mr. Google to fulfil my day-to-day information based needs. I was surprised that I could pitch in and offer one answer. My date didn’t answer any but I didn’t hold that against him. I was too busy procuring relatively inexpensive wine to splash over the evening. Following this he walked me home, gave me a kiss and said goodnight.

Date 2: Rock climbing. This date went by without worthy mentions. We met, we climbed and we talked. It was fun. It was comfortable, even if I was still creating the opportunities for conversation.

So in between Date 2 & 3 a few pretty big things happened for me. My housemate and good friend left to travel the world for a few months, and the day he left I got cellulitis. Following date 1 I had arrived home and made myself a hot water bottle. In my over-indulged state I managed to pour hot water on my hand creating a burn. Open burn wound (at date 2 stage quite small) and rock climbing wall are not a good combination. After starting on antibiotics I awoke a night later with intense pains in my stomach. As I was on my way to the bathroom at 3 am to be sick, I passed out in the hallway hitting my head on the way down. Although I went straight to hospital the next day, the 7 hours of waiting saw my cellulitis move from a red mark around the wound, to tracking all the way up to my armpit. I ended up spending 4 nights in 5 star hospital comfort. The 3^rd date was delayed and I was feeling a little less resilient all round.

Date 3: Dinner. Because of my recent health complaints, it was decided that something more relaxed be planned for date 3. We decided to visit a nice restaurant in local dining strip. I can’t remember what I ordered but I do recall his meal was the steak. It was a nice evening. The venue was nice and the food was good. About 4 mouthfuls in it happened. He got up and went to the men’s room. I continued enjoying my meal and glass of wine.

I finished my meal. I sat on but eventually finished my wine and bought another. I finished that too. He came out after 45 minutes, tears streaming down his cheeks to let me know a piece of steak was caught in his throat and he was trying to regurgitate it back up. I got myself another wine at this point… and I slowly sat on that for quite some time. Another 45 minutes later he returned, red faced but relieved of the food morsel that had been so much trouble for him. He explained to me that he was born with a small oesophagus and once in a blue moon is stuck in a similar situation. Following the exhaustion of spending so long in discomfort we decided to call it a night and try again the following week.

Date 4: Dinner. He ordered the steak again. This time things seemed to be going well. We chatted and talked about how nice the meal was. Then it happened. Again. He disappeared to the bathroom and I spent the rest of my meal (again) sitting by myself while he tried to bring up the steak. I also sat there wondering why he didn’t choose to order something a little easier… the soup maybe. By this point, the waiting in combination with my lowered resilience to such uncomfortable occasions lessened my desire to keep on trying. I hesitatingly decided to go on one more date.

Date 5: Motorcycle ride. The ride was great. We sat in silence and I enjoyed the scenery. We headed out and enjoyed a coffee… no food. Then we came home. It was pretty clear to me by this point that the hours of regurgitation had left me feeling a little detached from this person. There was no chemistry (and it had been minimal throughout), the conversation required effort and although nice is nice, at this point I also started questioning whether “nice” was enough for me.

On returning home I let him know that I am not interested in further dates. He asked me if I had any single friends.

So what did I take away from this one. Well, I decided that I want something more. I want a flame, or even just a spark. I want to look forward to seeing my partner and feel at ease and comfortable in their presence… like it is regenerating to be there rather than ‘work-like’. I want a deeper connection. … and I guess I also prefer a little less choking too.