What not to do on a first date
I broke up with my previous boyfriend back in April. Even though it was an amicable enough split, I am a catastrophic blend of naivety, misinterpretation and downright disaster when it comes to being single (the Incident with the Short German whom I Thought Fancied Me but Didn't still has my friends in hysterics periodically) and life was getting me down. So I did what every single woman who has a complete inability to tell the difference between a man talking to her because he's a normal human being and talking to her because he wants sexitime does and joined a dating website. My main aim was to have a drink or two with (hopefully) a couple of nice single men without falling over, giggling uncontrollably over something wholly inappropriate or professing my mistaken belief that Morocco is in South America. After evading the slew of messages from men who completely lost interest after telling them I wasn't interested in casual sex I eventually seemed to be hitting it off online with a man whom we shall call James, for that is not his name. We had lots in common, we talked on the phone and he sounded lovely. We arranged a time and place for a first date.

We met over a beer and everything was going as swimmingly as a polar bear on a melting iceberg, so we decided to go to dinner. This is where things started heading downhill. Foolishly, I'd decided to wear small heels and as we walked over a bridge one of my heels got stuck in between the planks. Blushing furiously, I bent down and tugged at my shoe, hoping to retrieve it swiftly and laugh it off with minimal embarrassment. However, my heel was wedged more firmly than I'd expected and as I bent over pulling at it desperately some cyclists who were coming over the bridge behind us found their path blocked by my now cringing, mortified arse. Luckily I managed to hop out of the way and James rescued my shoe, and on we went to dinner.

Now this is the point at which things started to go really wrong. I'd been feeling a little off-colour all day but had put it down to nerves and the fact that I'd been at a first aid course talking about squeamish things. However, as we sat down to dinner my stomach really began to churn, the insistent churn of a stomach in dire distress that will not be ignored. However, I ignored it as much as I could right up until the starters arrived and the smell made me realise that she was going to blow, and NOW. I swear that day I could have given Usain Bolt a damn good run for his money as I dashed for the loo and the Mount Etna of badly timed vomits proceeded to erupt violently from my stomach. Unfortunately, I had to eventually go back out and explain to James that I would have to go home immediately, no, I couldn't kiss him and I honestly wasn't faking it to get out of the date!!

Luckily, he believed me, walked me home and despite the fact I spent the next 3 days hugging porcelain didn't stop us from having our first date take 2 a week later. We've been happily together for 3 and a half months now, and I have not performed any more gastric pyrotechnics.

Length? Now that would be telling ;)

TL;DR I met a man on a dating site, vommed on first date, now he's my boyfriend.
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Mon 24 Oct 2011, 17:37, 2 replies)

Awww
He must be a good un not to be put off by a vomit soaked first date!
hope he is not the kind of guy to ask you to repeat it in private!
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Mon 24 Oct 2011, 23:08, closed)

I too have pulled due to exploding bowels
I was around the house of the girl, attempting to impress her with my scintillating conversational skills over an afternoon coffee. I'm not sure if I was succeeding or not - probably not.

Suddenly, and without warning, my body decided it had no truck with the Columbian fruit I'd eaten earlier, and I realised that explosive expulsion at both ends was a real and imminent possibility. So, in the middle of a sentence, I broke off and announced that I had to leave, jumped up and shot out of the door, heading home which was, thankfully, just a couple of streets away. I made it with seconds to spare.

The next day, baffled by my sudden departure, she turned up at my door to find out what had happened. I was now fully recovered, and we ended up in bed!

So I love to tell people that I pulled a girl using explosive diarrhoea, just because of the images they then have to get rid of ...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 25 Oct 2011, 11:48, closed)