Why he’s called DD

Have I told you this story before? I can’t remember … I don’t think so …

It starts with some stuff I have told you before, but I need to set the scene …

Once upon a time I was a newly single mum who was talked into uploading her profile to a dating website.

It was a woefully bad profile, but a bloke decided to give me a chance and we met for a cider at the Terrey Hills Tavern.

I wasn’t entirely sure our first date was a success, but he asked to see me again as we parted.

I replied: “I think you should Google me first.”

Those words actually passed my lips.

I was slightly infamous at that point in time, due to being sacked over one of my blog posts, which landed me in a newspaper gossip column. I’d also just gone slightly viral for a post about dinosaur porn.

I got in the car and thought Why the bloody hell did I say that?

I should have waited until the second date (at least) to lay my cards on the table. But it was done. It couldn’t be undone.

He texted later that night to say he was OK with my infamy. Well, he wrote something vaguely along those lines and still didn’t fully understand what it entailed.

A few days later I broke all the dating rules by sending him a 6.30am text message pondering where we should go for our second rendezvous.

As I’m an early riser, 6.30am felt like lunchtime and perfectly acceptable.

DD, on the other hand, was quite startled to be woken at 6.30am by a text from a virtual stranger.

But he soon got with the program.

This is how he describes it:

Tuesday – Alana awake – RSVP newbie decides to text at 6.30am
6.31am: Optus notices spike on North Shore
9am: Optus has crisis meeting and borrows bandwidth from Telstra
Midday: Alana’s ex-husband gets automated warning from the “cloud” saying capacity has been exceeded and thinks “Thank God, she’ll be blogging about someone else now.”

Five hundred million text messages followed when he headed off to the United States on a business trip.

Among the information he shared in those messages was that he had trained as a doctor, but had moved into medical research and was now a high-powered executive.

I was highly skeptical: how was a doctor turned high-powered executive finding the time on a business trip to text me 50 times a minute?

But it turned out to be true, absolutely delighting my mother.

When he returned from the business trip he asked me to take down my dating profile and we officially became an item.

The next delicate step was working out how to debut him on my blog.

It was such early days that revealing his name seemed inappropriate, so I decided to call him DD – Doctor Dave.

And all these years later he’s still DD on the blog – some of my friends even call him that in real life, though in his circle he’s D1 – a nickname his personal trainer The Warrior gave him due to there being so many middle aged Daves on the Northern Beaches.

I thought it would be super handy having my own personal physician, but his response to just about everything is: “Have you tried taking a couple of Nurofen?”

Although it is exciting to imagine him striding the corridors of Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, saving lives in scrubs.

Phwoar!

OK, I’m off. Have a good weekend. Catch you next week.

Song of the day: Robert Palmer “Bad case of loving you (doctor, doctor)