Can't catch a break

Amazingly, there was a time when I wasn't the suave, devlishly handsome international jet-setting playboy that you see today. In fact it was fair to say that my success with women was in the same category as Michael Barrymore's skills as a party organiser. But, one day I actually managed to meet an attractive young lady (gasp), talk to her (wow) and even ask her out (swoon). And she said yes.

Come the date itself, and everything seemed to be going well. She turned up, for a start, which in itself was a major improvement. Our tastes in music, films and food overlapped, but were different enough for interesting conversation. She even seemed to find me amusing, and I wondered if perhaps a little flirting was starting to occur.

The conversation drifted towards hobbies and interests. Now I've always loved fancy dress, and for me the big fun is the actual building of the costume - actually wearing it to a party is just the excuse to make it. So, I begin to tell her in great detail about my current project, and some of those I was most proud of from the past.

At which point things began to change. It turned out that she had a phobia against costumes! Even to the point that she wouldn't go on a motorcycle - not because she was scared, but because you had to wear special clothes and a helmet, which freaked her out.

That was effectively the end of the date. I never saw her again.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 1 Nov 2013, 14:34, 1 reply)

bloody nudists get everywhere

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Fri 1 Nov 2013, 15:12, closed)