I’d been talking to a guy via Grindr (I live in Zone 4 – there’s one gay bar, and it’s atrocious) and although he wasn’t really my type, he was a producer for ITV and a girl’s gotta eat. The first few times we were meant to meet up, he’d stop texting just before; and so not only was he wasting my time, he was wasting an opportunity to be seen with someone so fierce.
Come our fourth date arrangement I was determined to finally meet him; albeit for a free meal and some goddamn male attention… when it looked like I was about to be pied AGAIN. I was raging to say THE LEAST. SO enraged that a poof with a quiff had actually cussed a pie at me more times than I’d actually ever eaten pie, that I was spitting pure venom.
“It’s fine I can pack myself!” at the Sainsbury’s cashier. And…
“Shut up! Shut up!!” at the Sainsbury’s self-service.
And just as I was about to drown my sorrows in spiteful tweets and WKD, he texts me. He’s running late. Erm…? Good for you babe, I’m in my pyjamas and am half-drunk.
Text Reads: Can I pick you up? x
So with a hefty huff I begin pouring my glass of WKD back into the bottle, and start redoing my hair. Why was I so hell-bent on going on this date? The last time I went on a date, Jennifer Love Hewitt was still famous for One. Two; he was good on paper. And Three; as I’ve already stated; bitch wanted to eat!!
(Only a lettuce leaf and a bottle of Rose, but still).
I made the solum promise to myself that I wasn’t going to sleep with him, (not tonight anyway). If he wanted to make me wait to eat, then I was gunna make him wait to eat me! MmmmKay! *Snaps fingers*
The date overall wasn’t a total disaster, the only thing that was a disaster really was the amout of cackling and hair tossing I was doing. Surprising how out of touch I actually was!! Whipping my head so hard I was putting Willow Smith out of business. LATER.
But I must’ve looked more spasticated than I thought, seen as he was practically talking to me in sign-language. I’ve heard of enthusiasm, but his hands were all over the place. I thought he was signalling ships into shore. Or showing me the exits of a plane?!
Still it probably wasn’t as bad as me joking about adoption and marriage. Which after those two extra Desperados had made me exactly that, by the sounds of it. Here I am proclaiming to have been on the worst dates in the world and here I was giving one!
Nah I’m sure I wasnt that bad, definitely not as bad as his quaffed mane – that I was MORE than happy to mess up while we made out like horny prom dates in his car. Cut to me thinking he really liked me, before realising I’d been stroking the gear stick for the past ten minutes.
I stuck to my promise and didn’t put out and was invited to see him the next night while he house sat at a semi-mansion with a hot tub. TOTES dropping all my plans for that… Ladies am I right?!
I mean don’t get me wrong, I love drinks as much as he next gay, but a hot tub?! Hell to the yes!
But as I feared, after a couple texts he dropped me out AGAIN! And although starting to lose count am sure I’d been rejected more times this week than Jennifer Aniston has in her life. Whatever, the k hole I shacked out in over the weekend had more dimensions than his personality and even my tranquil balance was more stable than his driving.