Themed date

So, my first themed date.  What could go wrong.

After a great weekend with some old friends, I headed home to get ready.  Technically I’m breaking one of the rules by meeting relatively early.  The market is only open during the day so I have no choice. 

I spend an hour, yes that’s right, an hour, doing my hair.  Full face of make up.  Nice summery dress.  I then have to make my way to Liverpool Street which is absolutely miles away.  I get there, go up the escalator and have to squint as the sun is shining.  I scan the pavement.  A boy is walking towards me.  He is wearing grey sweat pants and a baggy green t shirt with nothing printed on it.  Are you freaking kidding me?

I need a drink.  Enid, or whatever his name is, has not made an effort.  Did I mention the hour it took me to do my hair?  We head straight to the market.  It’s quite busy and this guy is so shy, I can’t hear him over the market noise.  We’re wandering up and down, looking at the tat when we come across a wheatgrass stall.  So we’ve established he has never tried baked beans which make up a significant part of my diet.  I ask him if he’s ever tried wheatgrass.  I haven’t either.  I buy two shots and we wander outside, out of the crowd to down them.  He is not enjoying himself.  Suddenly I’m having fun.  He is practically crying now.  I make him eat it.  He is visibly shaking.  I suggest we abandon the market and go to the nearest pub. 

14 seconds later we’re at the bar in the Ten Bells.  Only alcohol can save us now.  The first Bulmers goes down a treat.  I suggest a second and he says, and I quote, “I don’t think so”.  So the shortest date in history is almost at an end.  I have spent longer on my hair than he has on this date.

I get on the tube and start the long journey home.  By the time I get off he has sent a long text explaining all the reasons why we’re not right for each other and I shouldn’t give up hope.  He has said more in the text than he managed at the market.  I’m starting to consider other options...