Six Characters in Search of a Date

Ervin Gofman once said, "the self is a performed character; a dramatic effect arising from the presented scene", a mere social product born to perform when thrown onto the 'front stage' ... and where is there a better every-day stage than on a first date? With a fresh drama degree under my belt, I devised myself an acting exercise with Goffman in mind. I would find unlucky suspects to date as my way of testing Goffman's theory, to improve my acting abilities, and of course, to see what London's dating pool had to offer. Embodying new characters in response to the roles they would play, I would arise to the given circumstances of each date. I became a shapeshifter, hungry to see who I would meet and who I would become.

My first conquest: The Mama's Boy. This man clearly lacked female energy around him; I almost felt bad. With intrusive questions like "have you been diagnosed with anything?", to even more revealing responses like "I want to start CBT, to see if I have autism", I quickly realised he was the oversharer. Of course, these conversations are absolutely necessary and I was touched he felt comfortable enough to be SO open with me, but it was hardly a get-you-into-bed conversation... at least not on the very first date.

The role I adopted was inevitable; I became the therapist, or worse, I became his mother. So unsexy. I couldn't let this man bare his soul without expressing my sympathies. And so, I told him that therapy sounded like a great idea, that it would be an amazing outlet for him to express his feelings and discover new parts of himself - God, someone hire me.

My voice softened and my demeanour changed; I became open, ready to listen, eager to help. The task at hand slipped from my mind and the actor fell away as I faced him, two humans alike. This was only until he diverged the conversation to his ex (already a bad start) and the addiction issues she gave him. I deemed that, although I was doing a fantastic job, I might not have been the person best qualified to give him the advice needed on this particular subject matter.

Second to The Mama's Boy, we have Mr. Daddy's Money. Sporting a pair of beige chinos which were somehow tight around the ankles yet baggy on the bum, you could tell it was his first time outside of Wimbledon. "What school did you go to?" Was the first of his questions, and his response didn't get much better: "you haven't heard of mine? It's one of the most famous all-boys privates in Surrey". At first, I thought I'd 'play into it', to let myself get spoiled and feign my agreements so I'd become the West London princess he wanted me to be. I enunciated my Ts and laughed along with his bellows to the jokes I didn't find particularly funny, keeping my shoulders back and placing my hands delicately on my lap to become my new persona: The Upper-class Lady.

As we stood outside The Old King's Head smoking his cigars (a first for me), I began to feel like an outsider in my own skin. Forsaking my values wasn't what I had intended for this acting exercise. Slowly, I let the facade fall as I soft launched my environmentalist views as what I thought to be a lighter political topic to breach. "You must know you're in the minority for the way you think" he'd replied, and with that my composure dropped. Bewitched by a new character, I became the raging commie. The immediacy of the switch took him aback as it was time for his character to falter; silenced as he bumbled over his words. It's fair to say, the date didn't last much longer.

Now this man was the toughest challenge yet. Driven by his pursuit, there was no disarming the First Date Fiend. Initially, I thought his initiative to take the reins and plan our evening was an attractive quality, until I discovered this was his 'spot'. A terrace bar overlooking the Thames in Greenwich, softly lit as the sun began to set. That's when it started; compliment after compliment, it was as if the dams to Niagara Falls had split open as the touching, pet names, and painfully long eye contact rained down on me. "I was telling my mum about you" (we'd been chatting for a week) and "I want you to have my children" (I repeat, a week). You see, it's never a cold read for the First Date Fiend - they're well rehearsed. This wasn't the production's opening night and I forgot that my scene partner could very well be a better actor than me. As to not fall for his tricks, I spent less time perfecting my character and more time trying to subdue his.

In the end, the conversation became a little too scripted, two thespians competing for the lead role, but still he persisted we go for a stroll along the river. As we arrived at a perfectly placed pier with the lights of Canary Wharf acting as the set to his curated scene, with no shock to me, he planted a fat old kiss on my lips. There we had it. The First Date Fiend had struck again.

It's safe to say we've all encountered this character before; it's the East London Creative. Wearing a fresh pair of Clarks wallabees, adorned with a white graphic-tee from his mate's 'up and coming' clothing brand, and accessorised with a bike-lock key attached to his hip; this is an unforgettable costume, recognisable in any crowd - unless you're sat in London Fields. This is the rapper, the film maker, the graphic designer, the supper club chef, oh and always the DJ. Sat at a small plate only restaurant, he spent the first portion of the date explaining how to distinguish the best red or white for a chosen meal - he's a natural wines enthusiast of course. And the second half talking about his music, "it's this new wave blend of jazz and funk with deep house beats - have you heard of Fred Again?".

He paraded around as Mr. Modest but forgot to talk about anything but himself. Enough so that amongst his philosophical monologues about nothing important, I'm embarrassed to say my character began blending to his. I had succumbed to his trendy exterior, craving the approval that I was a part of the young creatives club too. "I love Fred Again, he's pretty underground right?" ... who had I become. My character was vapid and uninteresting, a product of my insecurity that I wasn't 'cool' enough for him. I concluded, when faced with such a notorious character, the challenge would lie in retaining your individualities and sense of self. Acting is reacting, although not so much that your character starts absorbing theirs. Left with my reflections, I began wondering if he, in his polished execution of The East London Creative, had been facing the same need to conform as I had.

Having just moved to New Cross, it was my penultimate victim's first time venturing outside of Dorset's countryside, and let's just say, you could tell. Dressed in a button-up shirt and ironed trousers, no one else had made such an effort. He admitted this was his first 'blind' date, a virgin to the world of Hinge. My heart panged for him and a sense of responsibility washed over me, a desire to hold his hand and guide him through what was his introduction to the world of dating. This was The Country Bumpkin, the character who had yet been infiltrated by the need to tune himself to the tenor of the city.

"You look like you love to party" was his passing judgement and with that it was set - I became The Crazy City Chic, the art school student who never left South-East London, who would rave about the pubs and parties in Deptford; "have you heard of The Dog and Bell? Or Bunker Club?". I felt manic with the need to fully inhabit who he thought I was. I became overly animated and impassioned over all the quirks of Lewisham I otherwise only partially cared about. It was my turn to impress, to put on a show for my adoring audience of one. Gazing at the innocence on his face, I realised I was once The Country Bumpkin, a lamb to the slaughter in a foreign city. Now, as The Crazy City Chic, my years of struggle disappeared and I became everything I wanted to be all that time ago, but everything I had begun loathing now. It was refreshing to meet someone who had yet surrendered themselves to a character like the rest of us, and in all honesty, he had left a lasting impression.

The success of this acting exercise is debatable, but what I've learnt about myself has been invaluable. Trying on new personas has meant I've come closer to discovering the truest version of myself. Through this process of elimination, I tested who felt like a foreign body and who slipped into me with ease. As for my dating life, I'd like to think for Mister Date-Number-Six, I won't need to be anyone but myself. I'm looking forward to meeting him, but more so, I'm excited to just play me. For now, at least, any play with multi-rolling will be a breeze.