The First Date

The beauty of internet dating is you can message multiple people and see what floats.  Just found a really interesting profile for a cute blonde guy called James who lives in South London.  He has bullet pointed some amazing things on his profile that he has done recently including partying with Arab Princes in Saudi and sky diving.  So I break one of my rules and draft an email to get his attention.

Email sent to : JAMES

Date: April 13 2013 - 23:52

Subject: .

I'm exhausted reading your profile.  Here's some of the things I've been up to recently:

- Watched 53 episodes of West Wing back to back (yes really)
- Put a pizza though the x-ray scanner at the Egypt/Israel border (they didn't bat an eyelid)
- Didn't win the rollover lottery prize draw last Saturday
- Turned on 200 light bulbs individually at a Scottish Castle
- Stood up on a train from King's Cross to said Scottish Castle as all the seats were sold out, very grumpy
- Met my brother at Heathrow for breakfast at 6.20am this morning as he had a stop over and it was my only chance to catch up with him until June

Not quite as hectic but still random.  You sound interesting...

Believe it or not that’s all true.  I lead a very random life.  I wonder if he’ll respond.  I don’t have to wait long.  We email backwards and forwards a few times and finally agree to a date.  Eeeeeekkkkk.

My first mistake was meeting him at 4pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon.  Learn from me people.  I spent two hours trying to come up with a “this old thing, just threw it on” outfit and eventually decided on jeans.  We agreed to meet in my local.  My second rooky error.  I can never go back there.  With blind dates you have to will yourself to actually turn up.  I walked in at exactly 4 o’clock, I must have looked petrified.  He sprung up to greet me and immediately offered to go to the bar.  Excellent.  He asked what I wanted, it was a warm day, we’re by the river, I ask for a Corona.  Two minutes later he bounces back with a pint of Kronenbourg.  How do you sexily drink a pint?  I literally suck it up and move on.

He tells me I look petrified.  I down some dutch courage and settle into it.  14 minutes in, and I am not even joking, I lean across the table to hear him better and he full on kisses me.  What?   We’re both too British to acknowledge what just happened and continue the conversation.  I finish my pint and we switch to red wine.  I am now committed until the bottle is finished, I really want to leave, I am so uncomfortable.  He hasn’t stopped talking.  He is now telling me about his “two property strategy”.  I have a no property strategy or rather just no property, there isn’t a strategy here.  I’m a renter.  This guy is a tool.  At what stage can I leave? 

The bottle is nearly empty, thank goodness.  I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.  When I return there’s another bottle.  Noooooooooo.  It’s only 6pm, I can’t say I’m tired and leave.  I feel like I’m being held hostage.  I drink to make it better.

The wine does the trick.  I can’t tell you much else about the evening.  I finally escape when the bar closes at 10.30pm.  You do the maths people, that’s 6 and a half hours, about a thousand bottles of red and no food.  I’m amazed I was conscious.  Note to self, never plan a date without having a get out.  Next.