The Butterfly Effect

“Does the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wings in Brazil set off a Tornado in Texas?” – Edward Lorenz.

Yes, you are reading the right author and no, this hasn’t suddenly become a blog about science. 

However, this particular post is about chaos and in 1972, Edward Lorenz gave a paper on predictability to the American Association of the Advancement of Science which bore the above title.  The theory is that the flapping wing of the butterfly represents a small change in the initial condition of the air system, which then causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different and the chain of events wouldn't have happened.  

Here endeth the lesson.

Well, almost.  This can also be very accurately used to describe the law of karma, which, simplified, means cause and effect.  One of my own life philosophies is “What goes around comes around” and bearing this in mind I try to be kind, loving and do good things for people.  As a consequence I am surrounded by good friends, a loving family and I rarely dwell on the bad things that happen in my life.

One friend declared that I was the most optimistic person they had ever met and that if we were drilling for oil and had found nothing 15 miles down I’d be the one that said “Keep drilling”.

Personally, I prefer to think of myself as a realist rather than an optimist, but maybe my realistic beliefs seem optimistic to others.  After all, another friend christened me “Golden Balls” long before David Beckham had that title.  Let’s just say that realistically I’m an optimist and it’s not so much that the glass is half full but more that the glass is full, I’m drinking it and can I have another one please?

Anyway, onto chaos.  Anyone knowing me may think I am an expert on this subject, having been brought up in a house brilliantly described by yet another friend (I have so many!) as having “a general atmosphere of chaos” and also living with my beautiful partner D and her three daughters in a house that is just about as chaotic as it gets.  Throw my three kids into the equation however and it goes to a whole new level.

But even I wasn’t prepared for the situation I encountered a few years back whilst in the middle of the dating scene.

I recall there was one weekend that, on the face of it, had the potential to be legendary from a “Jack the Lad” perspective.  I was very active on the dating sites and it just so happened that I had been emailing several different people and had arranged to meet three of them (not all at once, obviously) but I had one lined up for the Friday night as a dinner date, a second for a lunchtime coffee on Saturday, and the third at a music bar in town on Sunday afternoon. 

On the Thursday, I telephoned my Friday date (we’ll call her Brenda) to ask about the arrangements.  This was the first time we had physically spoken and she was just leaving work.  The conversation went something like this.

“Hi there, is that Brenda?”

“Yeah, ‘ooisit?”

“Sorry?”

“I said who is it?  You ***kin’ deaf or wot?”

“Err… it’s M from the dating site, I’m just calling about tomorrow”

“OH ALLO!!!” <Turns away from phone> “Trace, Trace, it’s ‘im!  That bloke I was tellin’ ya ‘bout”

“I just wondered what restaurant you wanted to go to tomorrow”

“I dunno… McDonalds or Pizza Hut are ok”

“Err… I was thinking more Indian, Thai, Chinese, that sort of place?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah.  Enya them.”

“Well, what do you prefer?”

“I don’ care, all tastes same to me, I don’ like nuffink too ‘ot tho.  ‘Ang on a minute.”   <Turns away again>   “Trace.  TRACE! For ****s sake will you get that ***kin’ key!  We’ve gotta lockup and get outta this ****hole”   <Comes back to phone>   “Sorry ‘bout that.  She’s the gil I work wiv. She’s so fik. Anyway gotta go, I’m lockin’ up, send me an email. Ta-ta.  Fanks for callin’.”  <Click>

This woman must have had a ghost writer.  None of her emails gave any clue as to the fact that she made Waynetta Slob from “Harry Enfield & Chums” sound educated and well spoken.  I certainly did email her, but only to (kindly) cancel the Friday date.

When I returned home I had a call from the Saturday lunchtime companion to say that someone she had seen a couple of times already wanted to make a go of it and so they were going to be exclusive; therefore the lunchtime date was off. 

It was at this point, feeling a bit peeved, that I received an email from someone else who I’d previously tried to contact but had not received a response.  That attempted contact turned out to be the “Butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil”.

This lady (Sam) had made it clear in her profile that her two children would have to come along on her first date which would ideally be breakfast in one of our many local café/restaurants overlooking the sea.  Well, my rules are my rules (see previous blog post "A toe in the water), so I emailed her back and asked if she fancied a breakfast date on the Sunday morning.  We agreed more of a “brunch” and she said she’d arrive at 11, which was perfect as I had to leave at 1 to get to the afternoon engagement.

So – I arrived at about 10:40 and secured a table for four.  There are about 10 of these small places all in a row along the sea front and as it was early summer, they get really busy.  Therefore the sight of a large table occupied by one person drinking tea caused a few angry glances to come my way whilst others waited, especially as the time ticked on to approach 11 and then past it.  My continuing defence of “They’ll be here any minute, I promise” was wearing ever thinner as calls to her mobile remained unanswered and the clocked ticked round to nearer 11:30.  I was just about to give up when I received an apologetic call saying they were just walking along and which one was I in?  My sigh of relief was audible to everyone as I stood up and looked out, signaling my whereabouts.

I believe what happened next can be described as the “Tornado in Texas”.

Sam and her two kids (aged four and seven) came in and she sat down beside me. After the exchange of pleasantries (or should I say pleasantry as it simply consisted of “Hi I’m Sam”) she then proceeded to talk AT me for quite some time without pausing for breath.  I got told the reason she was late (crashed out drunk on her sisters sofa after a too heavy Saturday night, and yes, she did drive to the date) plus every conceivable business problem she had ever encountered in her work which was so dull and boring I can’t even remember what it was but essentially whatever she made, China made more of it and cheaper.  Wow.  What a shocker.

Meanwhile, the two kids are whizzing around like a pair of Tasmanian Devils, grabbing plates, cups and cutlery off other diner’s tables and generally causing mayhem.  Their noise seemed to be unnoticed by Sam who dealt with it by simply speaking louder to make herself heard over the din.  The glances of annoyance I had earlier received from the waiting guests had now turned to stares of rage as they were all looking at me, expecting me to deal with it.

I noticed a gap of literally nano-seconds between sentences and I got in with “Shall we order?  I have to leave at 1 o’clock and the children look as though they may be hungry.” This theory was based entirely on the fact that Formula 1 cars are at their fastest when they are just about to run out of petrol.  I figured if we could get some fuel into them, at least they would have to come into the pits to receive it.

“Good idea” she said and then, without pausing for breath, called out to the waiter “Three full English’s and three teas please. Now, where was I?”

The waiter looked across at me and I mouthed “Make that four” as the second phase of the verbal assault started.

The kids continued to treat the place like a playground until the tea mercifully arrived very quickly. They then came to the table and sat down as Sam continued to vent.  The young four year old boy put two sachets of sugar in his tea before his sister said “Mum, he’s doing it again” and Sam said “Oy!  OY! No! No more sugar.”

“Aw, Mum!”

“Well, just that last one then.”

That happened four more times until he had reached his SEVENTH sachet before the food arrived, which was the only thing that stopped him.

“I imagine he’ll be lively later.” I said.

“Not my problem, he’s at my sisters this afternoon, she can deal with it.  Ha, ha, she won’t know what’s hit her.”

Nice, I thought.  And I somehow suspect that the Texan Tornado had developed into a full blown Tsunami by teatime.

I made my excuses, left and yes, I paid the bill.  Rules are rules.  But it won’t surprise anyone to learn that I didn’t pursue that relationship either and when I got back from the music bar date (which was also a dead loss) I emailed Sam to say that, as interesting as the morning had been, I had actually decided to be exclusive with the lady I’d been with that afternoon and so wished her good luck in the future.

Not as much luck as the next person who decided to meet her though.

A toe in the water

When you’ve been in a long term relationship (in my case, a 20-odd year marriage), you not only get set in the ways with your partner but, if you then find yourself “on the market” again, you’re out of practice at dating.

I was 46 when the marriage broke down but didn’t discover internet dating until about six months later.  The realisation for me was that places to go and meet people for someone my age were limited.  A few people had told me about internet dating but I had shied away from it.  However, one day an email promised me a trial period on the largest UK Dating site for a month for just £1 so I decided to dip my toe in the water… just to see, you understand… I was sure nothing would come of it.

The registration process was a bit of an eye opener.   I had to write a profile and submit a picture with almost as many specific requirements as needed for a passport!  The first picture was initially rejected as apparently it didn’t meet their criteria (maybe I shouldn’t have sent that one with the donkey) and I had to find a more suitable one before I could be in the shop window.  This could take up to 48 hours, or so I was informed.  48 hours?  But I wanted to meet and chat to people then, that very evening!  My trial was only for a month!

Anyway, I started nosing around the site, trying to familiarise myself with it. I could look at profiles but couldn’t send messages or winks.

Winks?  That’s clever, I thought, does it work via a webcam or something?  Well, no.  A “wink”, I discovered, was just a come on really.  Some people like what they see but maybe don’t feel confident enough to make the first move, so send a wink instead.  It’s normally a signal to say “I’m interested.  Get in touch and I’ll respond.”  It’s an automated thing, so you can just click on a button and the site sends the wink.  That was also a relief as for a brief moment I was terrified of offending someone if I misspelt it, but clearly I had no need to worry.

Once I had been approved,  I went through the profiles of people that fitted the criteria I had selected (there are search filters so you can look by age, location, hobbies, etc.) but having fairly quickly established that there were no football loving nymphomaniacs under 30 who were looking for a chap pushing 50, I had to refine my search.  Hmmm.  This wasn’t going to be easy.  I decided that I would have to widen the net considerably and therefore trawled for female non-smokers living within 50 miles that possessed a pulse.

Quite quickly, “Hadleighgirl2 has winked at you” or “Sarahlou has viewed your profile” type messages started to come through.  That’s more like it!  I knew if I threw the net out to the 68,469 people online, there would be at least 2 or 3 that would take the bait!

Having been brought up very traditionally, I decided that I would adopt a very gentlemanly stance and devised my own rules for first dates.  These were -

1)      I would go to wherever my date was (50 miles isn’t too far),

2)      I would do what they wanted to do and

3)      I would pay.

My reasons for laying down these rules were simple; whilst I don’t mind emailing, I prefer to actually meet someone in order to get to know them.  Therefore, as we were on dating sites and not in chat rooms, going on dates sooner rather than later seemed logical and natural.  However, by me incurring all the expense, then if nothing developed from it then I hadn’t taken anything from them at all and they couldn’t say they’d been forced into doing something or going somewhere they maybe couldn’t afford. 

So - my first internet date.  I had been emailing several people and one, Alexandra, had agreed to meet up.  She was shown as being 30 miles away which was technically correct – as the crow flies – but the journey to get there was nearly 70 miles due to a long drive along the river and then over the bridge.  Never mind, I was looking forward to this.  She was three years older than me, looked very nice in her profile and the butterflies and sense of anticipation I had made me feel like a teenager again.

We decided to meet somewhere.  In my head I had visions of “Brief Encounter” and a rendezvous under the clock at Waterloo station.  That obviously wasn’t going to happen as she didn’t live anywhere near Waterloo, but I wasn’t quite expecting “Next to the sign showing the opening times at Morrisons.”

When I arrived – bang on time – I saw her, dressed in a scarlet fluffy jacket, black leather pencil skirt and fishnets with 5” heels. This made me wonder exactly what sort of people frequented this type of site and whether I actually had enough money on me… but I needn’t have worried.  This lady had been single since her children were babies and as they were at University this was now her time.  I was her first date too and the only time she had enjoyed solo male company for over 20 years!  Her children had apparently dressed her as her own clothes were “far too dull and drab” but I didn’t really like to comment that she looked more like a Hooker than someone trying to impress! 

We headed off to the main shopping area and found a French Bistro to have a meal.  Starting a conversation with someone you don’t know and have little in common with whilst you are both clearly seeing whether or not there is anything to base a relationship on isn’t an easy task!  There is also that slightly awkward thought of where it could lead and it’s almost impossible to avoid visualising your date naked. Neither of us had any prior dating experiences or stories to share (that proved to be a good icebreaker for all future dates) but we got on well enough to start.  After about half an hour she got “the call”, which the majority of women get on a first date.  It’s basically a phone call from a family member or friend about half an hour in to ensure that all is well and the date isn’t a mad axe murderer.  As the evening progressed however, conversation unfortunately became more difficult with several awkward silences, and there are only so many times you can praise the food!

My own nervousness and apprehension didn’t help and it became clear that, even though the age gap was only three years, our outlook on life generally was miles apart and it was like talking to my Mother on occasion.

At the end of the evening I delivered her safely back home at 11:30 with nothing more than a mutual wish of good luck for the future, so I guess she must have also felt similar.

I suppose it had been a little underwhelming as a first date, but I was not to be deterred!  Back on the site, trawling for more potential catches and I was sure that the next few months would see a whole lot of fun mixed in with the odd disaster.  

I wasn’t wrong.