Second date goes horribly wrong
A few years back, I was attempting to court an attractive young lady I had quite an interest in. The first date had gone well, but then Cupid and I haven't seen eye to eye for a long time...

It's fair to say that a goodly proportion of my romantic exploits have been subject to sudden and inexplicable calamity and/or comedy to ruin the proceedings. Would the chubby, winged, archery loving fiend give me a break this time? Would he hell.

The second date was planned meticulously, I booked a restaurant, cleaned the car and made sure I was as neat as a pin. Naturally I offered to drive the lady to the restaurant so she could enjoy a few glasses of Lambrusco and it would not do for her to climb into a grotty carriage. It was vaccuumed and waxed to perfection.

Calamity No 1

A mile from her front door and 300 yards from a main dealer, my three year old car decided it didn't want to go any further and chose that exact moment to die on the spot. No amount of swearing, pleading or thumping the steering wheel would get it to move. It barely spared enough juice to allow me to wind the window up and lock the car. I was faced with two choices, I could either call it off and wait for the AA or go ahead with the date and sort the car out in the morning. Gallantry inspired me to do the latter.

I phoned the lady in question and explained my predicament. Thankfully, she was more or less happy to drive so she picked me up while I stood next to my stricken Alfa Romeo. She was dressed to the nines in a black cashmere coat, an LBD (Little lack Dress) and heels which bordered on the indecent. How could I let a trifling case of Italian mechanical flakiness get in the way, when Paradise clearly lurked between the thighs the LBD was scarcely concealing?

Calamity No 2

The restaurant was nice and the food was excellent. My date ordered her meal, and glasses were clinked as we talked and ate. At the end of the evening, my date kindly agreed to drive me back home.

Now at the time, I had just moved in to a house I was sharing with a friend called Phil in a perpetual imitation of Men Behaving Badly with a dash of Young Ones thrown in.

I wouldn't go so far as to use the world "disgusting", but Phil's attitude to bathroom maintenence went as far as tipping some bleach down the pan every few months. Mould grew freely along the surfaces and rampantly on the limescale covering the shower curtain. The floor was covered in half an inch of dust, while the cleaning products themselves were similarly coated. Lifting the seat revealed all manner of limescale induced grimness.

Now none of the previous two paragraphs would be relevant had my date not asked "I'm desperate for a wee. Do you mind if I borrow your bathroom" as she pulled up to the driveway.

I could feel her slipping away...

Calamity No 3

Phil owned a daffy and friendly Springer Spaniel, who seemed delighted to meet a new houseguest and bounded up to greet my date.

Said Spainel looked lovingly at her as if she was long lost family before depositing a shimmering, six inch long trail of dogsnot all over the cashmere coat.

My date looked at Phil evilly, who took his cue to call the dog away. I made our excuses and pointed my date up the stairs to the bathroom before she beat the dog to death with one of her heels, making feeble excuses for my housemate's cleanliness on the way in a manner which might as well have been akin to Manuel from Fawty Towers.

I wandered downstairs to see Phil and a mutual friend sitting on the sofa.

"Didn't like her, stuck up bint" said Phil

"Well your dog did snot all over her expensive coat" I retorted.

"Well are you two joining us in a fucking beer or what?" Phil replied.

"Nah, Lucy is only stopping for a wee then I'll see her home" I suggested.

Calamity No 4

Some considerable time had passed at this point, but Lucy reappeared wearing an expression which was soemwhere between shock and bemusement. Fearing that Phil's bathroom had been all too much and that the dogsnot incident had nearly pushed her over the edge, a derisory "would you like to stay for coffee?" was a no-no so I too the initiative and ushered Lucy back out the front door to her car.

A quick and halfhearted kiss goodnight later, my friend Clive appeared by the doorway and announced he was off home and would Lucy like to follow him back to the main road so that she could find her way home.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrived back at Phil's place with a full bladder. Running up the stairs, I pushed open the bathroom door.

Wha? Oh. My. Fucking. Goodness.

My face was immediately slapped about by the unholiest of stenches, as yet unequalled by abbatoirs, farmyards, sickly pets, babies sickly or otherwise. I've felt less disgust shaking hands with politicians. I'd been to the bathroom after folks suffering from Chronns Disease and severe lactose intolerance, none of them could compete with this for sheer, off the scale smell.

I lifted the lid, my vision was sullied with a sight reminiscent of Colin McRae's wheelarch. I closed my eyes and blessed relief soon followed despite the fact that my eyes watered and I felt the bile rise in my throat, I actually held my breath as I peed.

Please, get this pee over with quickly, I don't know how much longer I can hold my breath! I flushed and lightheaded through lack of oxygen ran out of the door before sprinting downstairs, my chest heaving and desperately trying to suck in clean air. I was fighting a battle between the need to breathe and the need not to projectile vomit.

Finally, I flung open the living room door.

"You're a fucking animal Phil!" I half-yelled, "I fucking well hope you dropped that after my guest left".

"Fuck off, I thought that was Clive. Or you."

Feeling the need for beer and a tad lightheaded I sat down.

"Please, dear God let that be Clive..." We said almost in unison.

A brief but ruthless whodunit was conducted with Clive via mobile phone.

It wasn't him.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 1 Apr 2008, 13:51, 7 replies)

Lollage!
A nice twist (or should that be curl?) at the end. Top marks!

*click*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 13:56, closed)

Good god.
Your history with women is almost as scary as mine.

*click*
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 1 Apr 2008, 14:05, closed)

eeep
Just: eeep.
(And *click*.)
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 14:21, closed)

well?
did you give her one or what? (C'mon.. its what were all thinking...)
(Reptilianoid, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 14:33, closed)

Bless your heart
And have a click for Colin McRae'S wheelarch!
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 16:57, closed)

It couldn't have been your date.
Ladies don't poo. It must have been the dog.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Wed 2 Apr 2008, 3:12, closed)

@Flirting
Oddly enough, that was the mantra I kept repeating to myself at the time.

Oh the humanity!
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:00, closed)