gym

 

Boy, last week was busy on the old dating front.   I’m amazed I have enough energy to type to be honest.  Dating is HARD work.

 

After deciding in the New Year to get back on the bike, so to speak, I’ve been beating them off with a shitty stick.  (A great way to keep them in line.)

 

Some dates I can’t/don’t want to share with you lovely people – soz – but some I will and so today I bring you the story of Gym.

 

Now Gym owns a gym (see what I did there!)  He’s about 6ft, stacked, but not too muscly, gorgeous face, dimples (sigh) with a touch of the Dermot O’Leary’s about him.  The thing I loved most about him though?  He was a bit mental.  Good mental.  As in he didn’t take anything too seriously and was always joking with me.

 

(But I’ll come back to that.)

 

So we decided to meet.  I even dusted off a pair of heels I hadn’t worn yet and there may have even been a few sequins involved.  I wore some too.

 

We met at my local, but it was a late date.  That was fine by me – I’d booked a babysitter, had spent the night with both of my boys and was happy just to be out for an hour.

 

I did the obligatory Instagramming of new shoes and First Date Drink … and he finally turned up at 10pm.  To be honest, on a school night, it wasn’t my greatest idea to meet that late but hey.

 

As is usual with most of my dates, he really liked talking.  A lot.  And it was joke, joke, joke.

 

Joke.

 

Joke.

 

Bloody joke.

 

It was ex-hausting.  Think a drunk Chandler Bing and you’d be close.

 

I just had to sit back and let him do his thing, as it were.  I don’t know if it was nerves (he certainly seemed confident enough,) or whether he was normally like that.

 

But I had a cunning plan.

 

We were the last people in the pub – not difficult considering it’s a Wednesday in Medway, and when last orders was called he seemed genuinely surprised.  (Try coming up for air now and again sunshine!  Oh God, that sounds wrong – you know what I mean.)  Anyway, he actually seemed gutted that the date was over.  Obviously.  So I asked if he’d like to come back for coffee.

 

(As an aside, I actually meant coffee.  It’s difficult to say ‘come back for coffee’ without it sounding like ‘come back and kiss my face off’ … )

 

I had hoped that if he came back to my bachorelette pad, complete with new leopard print sofa, he’d actually relax a little and we could talk more on a ‘level.’

 

He pretty much jumped at the chance of coming back and … *cough* … sampling my coffee, so he followed me back in his car.  (I should point out I was in my car too – he didn’t make me walk home.)

 

As he was driving, I did actually make him a coffee then he commented on the size of my garden.

 

Leave it ….

 

… so I turned the kitchen light off so he could see the length of it.

 

STOP IT!!!!

 

Not the greatest idea as I was mid pouring milk at the time.

 

OH FOR GOD’S SAKE YOU LOT.

 

After clearing up the mess … we made our way to my lounge.  Where all the magic happens.

 

#sofa

 

Thankfully by now, Gym had calmed down a little and seemed much more relaxed.

 

Now I’ve mentioned my slightly weird choice of TV programme to put on in the background when a date comes round.  Gay Network TV anyone?  But nothing prepared me for the absolute HORROR that was on the TV as we walked in.  (The babysitter had left the TV on Channel 4.)

 

Think of THE worst possible programme that could be showing on the TV as you show a date into your ‘area.’

 

Yup.  Embarrassing Fat Bodies was on.

 

Oh … and not only that … this poor old dear was having her prolapsed womb looked at.

 

I shit ye not.

 

He nearly spat his coffee out and I vaguely remember screaming loudly.

 

I was mortified.

 

Had to have been the UNSEXIEST thing I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff.  Remember that episode of Friends where Chandler accidentally sees the video of a woman giving birth and can’t even bring himself to touch Monica because of the sheer horror of what he’s seen?  Well my Chandler for the evening wasn’t making so many jokes now!

 

I turned the TV over as quickly as was humanly possible and we just sat there in silence.

 

I took a big gulp of my (thankfully) large vodka but for the next minute we couldn’t even have eye contact.

 

Honestly, I feel slightly bilious even thinking about it now.

 

But hey, what’s a prolapsed womb between friends right?

 

Once we’d gotten over the shock, the rest of the evening went surprisingly well.  The sofa certainly did the trick and within ten minutes he’d made his move.

 

The rest, as they say, is history.

 

But as he left he turned to me, kissed me goodbye and said, “This has to be one of the weirdest dates I’ve ever been on.

 

Best. Compliment. Ever.

 

 

 

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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