Episode 7 Halloumi Aaron

Wine, Whisks & Weird Men: Episode 7

Like most modern dating adventures this one began on a dating app.

By this point I had already met several interesting characters from the modern dating swamp.

But Aaron turned out to be a very specific creature.

Aaron and I were on our second date.

Which, if you've been following these stories, is already quite impressive.

Most men don't make it past the first one.

The first one was drinks.

Pleasant enough. We talked a lot about films, which is always a good sign.

So when we decided to meet again a week or so later, we chose a burger place at Gloucester Quays.

Simple.

Relaxed

Exactly the sort of low pressure dinner date that should be impossible to get wrong.

Aaron arrived slightly stressed because he'd got lost driving in.

Then he'd become extremely concerned about the spiral entrance to the multi storey car park.

Apparently it was "very narrow".

Which was surprising, because hundreds of other cars seemed to be managing without psychological damage.

This had clearly shaken him quite deeply.

I had personally driven up the same ramp about 30 seconds earlier without experiencing any emotional distress.

At this point I remember thinking:

Right... interesting.

Because there are certain early warning signs you learn to look for in the modern dating swamp.

A man who is deeply traumatised by a car park ramp is... not usually a strong indicator of resilience.

Still.

We made it into the restaurant.

Crisis averted.

Or so I thought.

The Halloumi Incident

The waiter came over to take our order.

Aaron confidently chose the halloumi burger.

Now, five minutes earlier he had been talking about how much he loved burgers.

So I assumed this was one of those slightly adventurous choices.

You know.

Trying something different.

The food arrived.

Aaron took a bite.

Then another, then a few more.

And suddenly ...

His face changed.

He looked down at the burger with absolute horror.

Then, with absolutely no warning, he slammed it back down onto the plate.

Hard.

I looked at him.

"What's wrong?"

"There's no meat!"

He said this like it was new information to both of us.

I blinked.

"Yes... that's generally how halloumi works."

He looked genuinely annoyed.

"But I ordered a burger."

"You ordered the halloumi burger."

Another pause.

This was clearly a devastating revelation.

Like someone who had explained gravity to him for the first time.

Because what had happened here was that Aaron had confidently ordered something he had not actually read properly.

And had only realised halfway through eating it that he had accidentally ordered... a vegetarian meal.

Now, a normal person would simply order something else.

Or at the very least eat the fries.

Aaron chose a third option.

He refused everything.

Burger.

Fries.

The entire meal.

Like a small child who has decided the evening is ruined because vegetables have appeared unexpectedly.

At this point I briefly wondered if I should cut the burger into smaller pieces and encourage him to try just one more bite.

The Silent Dinner

So there I was.

Eating my dinner.

While the man I had driven halfway across Gloucestershire to meet sat opposite me...

Refusing to eat.

Not the burger.

Not the fries.

Nothing

Just drinking his coke.

Occasionally glaring at the burger like it had personally betrayed him.

In silence.

Sulking

Now, I'm a mother.

I've raised children.

So part of me slipped automatically into calm mum mode.

You know the voice.

"It's alright... mistakes happen."

"You could always order something else?"

"Or just eat the fries?"

But Aaron had already committed to the sulk.

And once a grown man commits to a sulk in public...

There's really no reversing it.

So I finished my dinner.

While the atmosphere slowly thickened into something you could practically spread on toast.

The Multistorey Meltdown

Eventually, dinner ended.

Well... I finished dinner.

Aaron finished his coke.

Around us the restaurant was full of Christmas parties.

People laughing.

Clinking glasses.

Office workers wearing paper hats and shouting over each other about secret Santa.

And then there was our table.

One cheerful woman.

One grown man still emotionally processing the discovery of halloumi.

And it was at this point that I understood something.

This is why woman suddenly "go to the loo"...
and are never seen again.

But eventually we left.

We walked back through the shopping centre the way we had come in earlier.

Except...

The shopping centre had closed.

All the doors were locked.

Now personally, my immediate thought was:

Ah. We'll just find another entrance.

Aaron's brain, however, processed it slightly differently.

Within about 5 seconds he went into full panic mode.

Pacing.
Running his hands through his hair.
looking genuinely agitated.

Like we had just discovered the building was on fire.

"What do you mean it's locked?"

"Why would they lock it?"

Then he turned to me and said:

"Didn't you check it was twenty four hours?"

I blinked.

No Aaron.

I did not conduct a full architectural risk assessment of Gloucester Quays before ordering a burger.

Also...

did you?

"How are we supposed to get back to the car park?"

At this point I was watching him think we had somehow become permanently trapped inside a Gloucester shopping centre.

Like we were about to spend the night living off Pret sandwiches and scented candles until rescue arrived.

Meanwhile I'm standing there thinking:

Aaron.

It's a door.

There will be another one.

But he was now pacing like a man trying to solve an escape room.

Getting increasingly agitated.

And that was the moment I realised something.

The halloumi had already shaken him quite deeply.

The door was simply the final straw.

Anyway.

After approximately twenty seconds of logistical crisis, we walked around the building...

...and found an entrance.

Which opened immediately.

Because of course it did.

And as we finally walked into the carpark I remember thinking something very clearly:

This man cannot cope with cheese.

And he absolutely cannot cope with buildings.

Which when you think about it...

is quite a lot of modern life.

The Resurrection

And that, I assumed, was the end of Aaron.

A slightly stressful man who had fallen out with halloumi and briefly panicked about a car park.

But modern dating has taught me something very important.

They always come back.

About a year later, Aaron popped up again.

Out of nowhere.

A message.

Friendly. Casual. Enthusiastic.

As if the halloumi incident had never happened.

As if the spiral ramp trauma had healed.

As if the carpark meltdown had been a minor misunderstanding between two adults.

Apparently Aaron had split up with his girlfriend.

And suddenly...

he was interested in meeting again.

Which was fascinating.

Because I remembered the halloumi.

And once you have seen a grown man emotionally defeated by grilled cheese...

you realise the swamp contains many species.

Some are angry.

Some are naked.

And some...

simply cannot cope with halloumi.

But the swamp is full of interesting species.

And next time...

we meet Smug Marcus 🐸