My Worst Date
I have horrible memories of a blind date where, desperately grabbing something at the last minute, I wore an enormously long scarf so she'd recognise me. I looked like a twat, it was clear she thought so too, and we stood saying nothing for 15 minutes in a pub before running away.
What's your worst date experience?
( , Fri 22 Oct 2004, 9:59)
I have horrible memories of a blind date where, desperately grabbing something at the last minute, I wore an enormously long scarf so she'd recognise me. I looked like a twat, it was clear she thought so too, and we stood saying nothing for 15 minutes in a pub before running away.
What's your worst date experience?
( , Fri 22 Oct 2004, 9:59)
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This happened tonight...and I'm still feeling icky
Bit of background - split with a blokey I met online (and dated blissfully for 6 months) very recently...fairly bad breakup, had just got back off holiday and at some point he decided I wasn't someone who he could spend his life with (I'm too nice apparently - so nice I made it very easy for him and still help him deal with *his* issues...there's no hope for me)
So what is a girl to do? My angst befuddled brain insists that I get out there and start dating again. This, as anyone could see a mile off, is a Bad Thing.
I trotted off tonight to meet (another) online aquaintance for a drink. We'd chatted, things seemed ok, and his photo showed a cute (if a little older) man.
He turned up 15 minutes late and we go to the nearest Wetherspoons. He then proceeds to loudly complain that they are not letting the house red breathe properly - this is Wetherspoons remember? Its red stuff, vaguely alcoholic, and cheap. Nobody cares, least of all the staff.
The hour that I had alloted (excuses at the ready) dragged by, with me listening to inane chat mainly given in sound effect form, with me smiling and nodding and trying to get drunk on the wine. He looked, and sounded like my gay best mate, and held his cigarette like a girl, whilst telling me about various psycho exes he had met on the net. I made my excuses and left, he followed me and insisted on walking me to my sons fathers house, which is never a good idea...as I tried to leave he hugged me...I froze, and kind of patted him on the back, before fleeing into the night.
Never have I been so glad of seeing my ex-husband. I then got a text telling me he had a great time and hopes to do it again. I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon. Twunt.
I think I might become a nun. Don't get nun, don't want nun....
*Length and girth all very important...but it's the tongue that really matters ;o)*
Edit - If you're reading this and it sounds familiar, I'm sorry - really its not me, its you...
( , Thu 28 Oct 2004, 1:39, Reply)
Bit of background - split with a blokey I met online (and dated blissfully for 6 months) very recently...fairly bad breakup, had just got back off holiday and at some point he decided I wasn't someone who he could spend his life with (I'm too nice apparently - so nice I made it very easy for him and still help him deal with *his* issues...there's no hope for me)
So what is a girl to do? My angst befuddled brain insists that I get out there and start dating again. This, as anyone could see a mile off, is a Bad Thing.
I trotted off tonight to meet (another) online aquaintance for a drink. We'd chatted, things seemed ok, and his photo showed a cute (if a little older) man.
He turned up 15 minutes late and we go to the nearest Wetherspoons. He then proceeds to loudly complain that they are not letting the house red breathe properly - this is Wetherspoons remember? Its red stuff, vaguely alcoholic, and cheap. Nobody cares, least of all the staff.
The hour that I had alloted (excuses at the ready) dragged by, with me listening to inane chat mainly given in sound effect form, with me smiling and nodding and trying to get drunk on the wine. He looked, and sounded like my gay best mate, and held his cigarette like a girl, whilst telling me about various psycho exes he had met on the net. I made my excuses and left, he followed me and insisted on walking me to my sons fathers house, which is never a good idea...as I tried to leave he hugged me...I froze, and kind of patted him on the back, before fleeing into the night.
Never have I been so glad of seeing my ex-husband. I then got a text telling me he had a great time and hopes to do it again. I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon. Twunt.
I think I might become a nun. Don't get nun, don't want nun....
*Length and girth all very important...but it's the tongue that really matters ;o)*
Edit - If you're reading this and it sounds familiar, I'm sorry - really its not me, its you...
( , Thu 28 Oct 2004, 1:39, Reply)
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