Well it happened… I had my first date Saturday!
The excitement that preluded this meeting with a complete stranger, whom I had only exchanged a few dozen messages with, almost equals the disappointment I feel after the event.
Still I have the first one under my belt and now I can move onwards and upwards, hopefully, definitely…?
So to kick things off, I had three options for a date on Saturday. I know it could have been worse, could have been better but definitely could have been worse. At least I had an option, originally I was supposed to be going out with T from Kent, 37 but I took a curve ball at the last-minute and swapped him for P from Surrey, 49, who seemed much more chatty and down to earth. Which in all fairness he was, chatty I mean.
I really wanted to go out with J from Sussex, 45 but he was busy, dinner party apparently, so we have arranged a date for later in the week, which I have to admit I am really looking forward to but more about him later.
So after much excitement and whooping from the buddies during previous lunch breaks about the impending date we set a time and place to meet.
The thing with first dates is usually you need a drink. I needed a drink. I don’t drink a lot but I needed a drink like I have never needed a drink before at about 6.30 pm and was seriously debating whether a good glug or three of neat Vodka would hinder me in any way.
You really have no choice but to drive. You usually meet half way it seems, as this is considered safer, who for I’m not sure. Obviously, you don’t want the date to pick you up, this isn’t 1976, when there were no crimes of any kind against women, you didn’t fear someone stalking you the day after as they knew where you lived and of course men were much less sexist than they are now.. ??
So, stone cold sober, I drove myself to the restaurant, in the dark and met a complete stranger in a car park. Did I feel safe, not really but I suspect that I wouldn’t have felt any safer in 1976 so things have not really progressed. However, the plus side of going on a date in 1976 is that you would have been able to drive yourself there drunk! *Drink driving was all very acceptable then.
*Not that I am saying this is right, of course.
Don’t get me wrong, I do not need to have a drink as a general rule of thumb, which is just as well as where I live I have to bloody drive everywhere. It’s a nervous thing. All in your head I imagine, you feel that with just one drink inside you that you will be the chatty, charming, flirty girl the guy has been talking to for the last few days, whereas, without it you will just be a cardboard cut out of yourself; straight, boring and unable to maintain eye contact.
The pub itself was very nice and luckily quite busy. As there is nothing worse than trying to make small talk in a very quiet pub, where everyone thinks your conversation is more important than having one of their own. We got a drink and found a table by the fire. Yes fire. I am glad I only had a thin blouse on as I don’t think it is really open fire weather at the moment. It is still very mild out there.
After an hour I thought I might look a bit lopsided as the bones in my left side had started to melt.
I am going to be brutally honest now and say that he was not as nice looking as I expected him to be. I know, beauty is only skin deep. We all tell ourselves that on a regular basis but let’s be honest a bit of something easy on the eye helps, doesn’t it?
I think a lot of things make a person attractive but you must have something to start with.
He was and I am trying to be polite so forgive me if this comes across as impolite, ‘a bit rough around the edges’. Most of us women all say we like a bit of rough but we mean in a tough, tattooed, throw you on the floor kind of way not like a drug dealer from Shameless.
He was tattooed and to be fair I liked that but he was skinny in a malnourished way and looked like he hadn’t slept for a month. In all fairness he probably works hard, as he told me he works away a lot and he seemed to do a very manual job but he just looked like he had seen better days. It seems he also parties hard which could be a factor. He had dabbled in some substance use and told me that he had to leave the last town he lived in because someone was ‘after’ him.
At this point I thought, hold on a minute, this guy doesn’t like me. He is clearly doing everything he can to put me off. Maybe, as soon as he saw me he thought, oh good god no, she is not my type at all? How can I get rid of her without actually telling her she is an ugly old boot.
After about an hour it was becoming increasingly obvious to both of us that we were not really gelling. For me, I think it was the bit where he told me he had four kids, with four different women and some Grand-children somewhere, out there, that put the final nail in the coffin.
We parted company and out of politeness both agreed to text once home. We didn’t.
Once home, I duly notified Buddies that all was well and I hadn’t been rolled up in a shag-pile carpet and left by the side of the road for the foxes but that the date was a bit of a disaster. Never mind they texted, on to the next one… if only I can face it.
All is not lost though, well not yet. It is the beginning of the week and I have two more dates lined up. I can’t believe I just typed that sentence. I have two, yes two, dates this week. No, I haven’t given my children to Social Services, they are here alive and well, for now. They are though going to Granny’s again Wednesday as it is half term, again and I have to work some of it. So as well as work I will be indulging in a little bit of pleasure too… wouldn’t that be nice!
At the moment we are texting. J and I have been texting for what seems like an eternity and it can get a little bit taxing at times. It’s that whole, trying to be nice all the time and seem like you have a great sense of humour, while also being intelligent. It is tiring.
As you know I swear, I probably think I am funnier than I am and I can be a tad sarcastic, trying to keep all that contained is hard. I am also feeling a little bit sexually frustrated, this is not helping my restrained texting at all but so as not to sound like I am a complete tart I am reigning it all in. Soon I fear it might all come out and probably at the most completely inopportune moment.
For now though, I like him. He seems, oh.. who am I trying to kid, who bloody knows how he seems. I thought the last one seemed ok and look where that got me. I am excited and I am looking forward to meeting him but who knows if I will be pleasantly surprised or bitterly disappointed after?
Got to dash… the texting has started!