Diary

Dancing Freemason

28 August 2008 | Diary

It’s only since I began dating a coffee shop manager that I’ve come to appreciate how instrumental coffee is to the romancing process.

This is why Starbucks and Durex always have the same stock market value.

“Would you like to come out for coffee?” is the universally-acknowledged code for “Would you like to have sex?”

Similarly, “Would you like to come up for coffee?” is code for “Would you like to have sex immediately?”

Try not to confuse your ‘out’ with your ‘up’. Doing so can only lead to a slap in the chops.

(Adjust accordingly. ‘Up’ only works if you live above ground level. Use ‘In’ if you live in the suburbs or ‘Down’ if you have a trendy undersea bubble house.)

There’s just so much secret language. For this reason, and one other, dating is very much like being a Freemason.

The Plain People of Cyberspace: What’s the other reason?

You know. All that bloody dancing.

Dating a coffee shop manager has forced me to abandon the classic caffeine-orientated code words. If I ask her out or up for coffee she’s likely to roll her eyes and say, “That’s the last thing I want”.

When asking her out, I am forced into being either creative or blatant.

Creative:

“Would you like to come out to that new ice rink?”.

Blatant:

“Intercourse? 8pm?”

With the former option, one runs the risk of actually having to visit an ice rink. With the latter, one once again risks a slap in the chops.

Going to an ice rink as a pretense for sex is a ridiculous game. You won’t realise this, of course, until you’re strapping on your boots.

When I say “going to an ice rink”, I also extend this warning to paint balling, ten-pin bowling, laser quest and badger-baiting.

Two cups of decaf: £2.90
Ice Skate Rental: £14.75

Only in exceptional circumstances will you be asked to do “a figure eight” in a Cafe Nero.

There’s a reason why the coffee invite is a classic. If you decide to abort the mission halfway through, you can just pretend the date was a perfectly innocent coffee all along. You will end the night in the usual, perfectly agreeable way: TV Dinner and a maintenance wank.

Nothing lost.

If you’re at the rink, however, you’ve already gone to so much trouble. Mission abortion is not an option. You will have to have sex now, even if it’s under duress and awkward for both of you.