In the opening post of this blog, I promised stories relating to dating disasters and experiences. The one I’ll share with you now made me laugh at the time. Ok, it’s not side-splittingly funny and many of you will probably find it downright obvious, but the issue just didn’t occur to either me or my date when it happened.
This particular lady I had seen on the dating sites and liked both her picture and the way she wrote, which was articulate and funny (when I told her that she looked lovely, she corrected me and said that “stunning” was the correct description, obviously). A big turn on is that, well, for me, anyway. Obviously there has to be a little physical attraction too otherwise it’s a complete non-starter. I used to frequently get messages from people whose profile I used to look at and think “Is that really the best picture you’ve got? Really?” Anyhow, I digress.
After a few funny and occasionally flirty emails, I established that she was a smoker, which was a no-no as far as I’m concerned. But the emails and messages continued as we both made each other laugh, and we decided that maybe we should just have a date as it was sure to be a fun evening.
So, we actually arranged for me to go to her flat and between us, we’d cook a Thai meal. I would do the starter; she would do the main course. She was 4 years older than me and had arranged a chaperone to also be in attendance who turned out to be a 30 year old single female from the same block. Now don’t get too far ahead here… it didn’t turn out to be one of THOSE type of nights… but she did dismiss her chaperone after dessert and I seem to recall that she pulled a muscle in her neck as she moved in for some serious lip action. It also transpired that she had apparently been pleasantly surprised when I turned up as she’d been looking at my profile on the dating site and thinking “Is that really the best picture you’ve got? Really?” I’m apparently not that photogenic. It’s funny how we see ourselves so differently from how others see us and after all, beauty is in the eye of the beer-holder.
Anyway, she actually gave up smoking (Result! – Snogging an ash tray was never my thing) and we saw each other several times on and off for a few weeks. She kept referring to me as her “toy-boy” (funny the first time but gets a bit tiresome with every introduction) and really had not much in common with my circle of friends, all who seem to be younger than me but nowhere near the declaration she made when she met some of them at a pub quiz night (“Look at your friends! They’re all about 12!”). But the main trouble was that she’d never been married or had kids herself and therefore probably didn’t fully appreciate the demands on your time when you have three of them. As any parent will know, a child isn’t just for Christmas and when you don’t live at home with them you tend to want to make the most of the little time you do get. She also was incredibly impulsive… she asked me if I’d like to go to see her friends in Majorca as they had a spare apartment we could stay in and no sooner had I said “Yes, that’d be nice” it was booked! No checking whether I was available or anything like that! Bang. Two flights from Stansted. Be there or else. The relationship didn’t last until departure date so that was a wasted exercise.
But onto the point of the story; she also had two free tickets for Eurotunnel. This trip did need a little co-ordination and we agreed to go on a Sunday (some of you may already see the flaw in the plan) as around that time neither of us were able to take any time off during the week and Saturdays were really busy. Her flat was kind of on the way so it was arranged that I’d go to hers, stay over and then we’d go to Folkestone from there on Sunday morning.
We had to take her car for some reason that escapes me, but it was a Fiesta and therefore the opportunity to really stock up on the booze was a non-starter. No matter, it would be a nice day out and we figured on some shopping, a nice lunch in a fancy restaurant, maybe some people watching as we supped coffee at a pavement café whilst basking in the sun (it was summer and in the mid-20’s) before heading home at about 9 o’clock.
The trip across was fun, laughing loads as we listened to Kevin “Bloody” Wilson CD’s and then recounted the best sketches from The Catherine Tate Show (Boy, I know how to live). When we arrived in France, I thought it seemed unusually quiet and we drove off round the surprisingly deserted streets and villages, heading for the Hypermarkets which, as many of you have probably guessed by now, were shut. In England, we are so indoctrinated with 24 hour shopping, 24 hour TV and practically 24 hour drinking and eating so it just didn’t occur that just 24 miles across a bit of water, a Sunday would be so different.
We did find a steak house chain that was open, so we stopped for something to eat and then desperately tried to find any sort of establishment selling cheap beer, wine or cheese (no ciggies – she’d given up) before joining a queue of English cars all doing the same and coming across a “Sainsbury’s Wine Outlet” that sold… wait for it… wine. No beer or cheese. Just wine.
At least I had a chance to top up on the vino. As for the pavement café, forget it, nothing was open AT ALL and to make things worse the sky clouded over and it started to rain. Knowing when beaten, we headed to the Eurotunnel terminal to make our way home again and I seem to remember being back by 4 o’clock, which was not bad considering we’d only left at 10.
We didn’t see each other too much after that (nothing to do with the trip) although we kept in touch by email for a bit. She eventually found happiness and I understand is now engaged to someone who has some grown up, self-sufficient children, so I’m pleased that it all worked out well for her. By her own admission, she really didn’t like kids (I actually witnessed her having a panic attack in a supermarket when a young child started screaming in an adjacent aisle) and so she probably learnt not to date someone who still has major parental responsibilities.
I learnt not to book day trips to the continent on a Sunday.
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