So, I finally broke the seal.  As it were.  I’m not quite sure if that’s exactly the right terminology to use, but I had a date this week after my four month self imposed dating hiatus, so I’m all a-quiver.

 

(High fives all round.)

 

As 2012 became 2013, I decided the time was right to get back on the horse.  But that’s another story.  Instead, I joined another free dating site, one that a friend had already had a lot of success with.  Although … to clarify …. success for him just meant knobbing a lot.  But hey, it’s a start.

 

Within five minutes of joining, I was inundated with messages.  Obviously.   I mean look at me.  Oh, you can’t.  I’m anonymous.  Well suffice to say, I got it going ON.  (For those who don’t know who I am, I should point out I AM taking the piss.)  But I did get a lot of messages, as all women do no doubt – smell of fresh meat n that.  (Ewww.)

 

After a couple of days, I received a message from Tangent Boy.

 

His profile was brief but his first message was cheeky enough to get my attention.  And not a cock shot in sight.  Win/win.

 

As soon as we struck up a conversation, I knew we’d get on.  He had a very similar sense of humour to me, ie. hilarious, which, for me, is vital.  He’s the kind of man you can talk about genitals in front of and he’d think it equally as funny.

 

He went to watch a football match that night (zzzzzz ….) but after texting that evening, he rang me late and we chatted for an hour or so.  He admitted to recording Celebrity Big Brother, which I was prepared to ignore as he’d been so honest.  However, when he admitted to recording Neighbours as well, it was touch and go whether I’d hang up on him or not.

 

I didn’t … but told him he was a knob of the highest order.  But fair play, he already knew that.

 

We’re both spontaneous people and agreed to meet the next day after work for a quick … drink.  I’d been to a client meeting during the day so was suited and booted, so after putting on a quick slick of bright pink lipstick,  I made my way to the pub.

 

As I pulled up in the car park, he was in the car next to me, finishing a phone call.  Now call me old fashioned, but if I’m meeting a date, I would tend to hang up on anyone I was talking to once my date arrived.  He didn’t.  Not impressed.  He kissed me on the cheek and mouthed, “Sorry, I won’t be a minute,” … at least that’s what I think he said – quite frankly, could have been, “Give us a BJ while I’m on the phone,” but guess we’ll never know.  (Suffice to say he didn’t get one.  Honest.)

 

Anyway, so I ended up having to get myself a drink (certainly wasn’t going to get him one!) and I waited patiently until he finished his call.

 

And waited.

 

And waited.

 

I actually wondered if it was all a ruse and he’d seen me, had only pretended to be on the phone and done a runner.  But then I thought, purlease … I’m a bloody catch.

 

He FINALLY turned up, offered profuse apologies and bought me another drink, so he was slightly forgiven.

 

We had a brilliant evening.  I’d say, in my top three best first dates so far.  The banter was proper badass.  We didn’t stop laughing, had a lot in common and the eclectic mix of topics covered made for a very interesting evening.  He would start talking about one subject, then go off at a complete tangent and end up talking about how a girl wanted him to wee on her … which was nice, or how he lives with his ex-girlfriend, or why he had to resign from his last job.   Suffice to say, when you both devise a plan to make your date’s hands more manly, (involving cutting pubes and gluing them onto the back of his hands,) I think you know you’re onto a winner.

 

I am SO weird.

 

He was due to visit his parents that night and I had to get home, so we said goodbye at around 7pm.

 

As far as first dates go, it was great.  As far as anything more happening, I’d probably say doubtful.  I think we’re after different things and that’s OK.  My faith had been rocked somewhat by the last few dates I’d been on so this has restored my faith a little.

 

Onwards and upwards.  (Or inwards and outwards if I play my cards right.)

 

 

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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