It has come to my attention that there is some new etiquette when it comes to first dates, something to do with what food you should eat. My initial reaction was sheer relief that I no longer have to go through the agony of first dates. I’ve had a few corkers. There was the housemate (I know, never date your housemate). I learnt pretty quickly that this was a mistake. Let’s say that we’d been to a house party, someone (I hold that person entirely responsible) brought out vodka jellies. I had just come out of a torturous relationship with a man who had spent the majority of our relationship chasing other women with his penis. It was a miracle that I had escaped that relationship without an STD. It was a miracle that ex-boyfriend still had a penis attached. Although, I had taken great solace in rubbing chillies over his underpants and watching the subsequent panic as he fretted over what STD he had caught and whether his proud member was going to drop off and die. Yes, after such a bonkers relationship I was not looking for another relationship. I wanted to be single. However, the next day I woke up with a vague recollection of downing vodka jellies and realising that somehow housemate’s tongue had ended up in my mouth. Please do not get the wrong impression of me, this was very much out of character. Not long before this incident I had been debating whether I should enter a nunnery.
Since the age of 16 I had been a serial monogamist and now I was 23. Initially, after my relationship with cheating ex had ended I had nearly fled to Mull (not quite a nunnery). You know, the tiny island of the coast of Scotland. I had been offered a job as a waitress in a cafe, with lodgings thrown in for good measure. In fact Mull was on the Jane McDonald Cruising programme the other Friday. I had turned to Mr C and told him that I had nearly moved there. He had retorted
“You are even more nuts than I realised”.
Obviously this outraged me and I may have replied with
“I often think what might have been if I had moved there”
To which Mr C replied
“I would imagine that you would be married to a farmer and bored out of your mind, planning your escape”.
Hmm, in my imagination the farmer is Tom Hardy and there are no thoughts of escaping going through my mind…
Fleeing The UK?
I digress. In the end I had decided that I didn’t need to flee to Mull to escape men, I could just be single. Then the vodka jelly incident happened and here I found myself on the brink of another relationship. A relationship that I didn’t want. Yet, my housemate, for some inexplicable reason was very keen on pursuing a relationship with me. In the end I agreed to a date. I felt that I owed him for letting him stick his tongue down my throat. I know, I was an idiot. Anyway, living in Leeds meant that there was a plethora of venues that were all perfect for a first date. J had other plans though. He wanted to whisk me away for a night in Lincoln.
“Hold onto your horses”,
I might have shouted at him,
“what kind of girl do you think I am?”
Yes, perhaps the vodka jelly snog fest had given him the wrong impression. Awkward.
I continued with my rant,
“There will be no sleeping over. I have a chastity belt on and you ain’t unlocking it”
What Kind Of Girl Do You Think I Am?
He then pointed out that we were housemates and how was this any different? I retorted that we might be housemates but this didn’t mean that I was ready to progress to us becoming bedfellows. In the end I agreed to a day trip to York. This too filled me with unease. York might only be down the road from Leeds, about half-an-hour away, but a whole day for a date. Now that’s just wrong. Yet, I didn’t want to offend him. Yes, again, I am an idiot. Therefore, one cold crisp April morning, I stood next to J’s car as he desperately tried to start it. The engine didn’t sound hopeful, I felt relief that the date might be cancelled after all. Just as I could almost taste the freedom, the engine spluttered into life and I felt the insides of my stomach sag. I then went to put my bag in the boot where I spotted a tent. “What’s that doing there?!” I barked at poor J. He had looked rather ashamed and muttered something about thinking we could camp over for the night. I was furious. “I said no staying over!” He had muttered something and we climbed into his car. I was annoyed that he hadn’t listened to me but I was also more annoyed that he had thought camping would have been good fun! If you are going to try and seduce me then don’t try and do it under canvas. Sleeping-bags hardly shouts romance!
In York we had meandered round the shops. It was grey and drizzly and finally we had found solace in a pub. There J had suggested that we have a few alcoholic drinks and that we could stay in the tent. I had rolled my eyes at him and stuck to my flat coke. We drove home in icy silence until I profusely apologised for letting him stick his tongue down my throat (idiot) and said that I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by getting involved in a relationship, He agreed.
There are four very important lessons that can be learnt from this first date;
1) Never have a vodka jelly
2) Never let a housemate stick their tongue down your throat
3) Never go on a date because you feel you should
4) Actually, never go on a first date. Full-stop.
However, I am not one for listening to my own advice. Did I tell you about the first date involving Mr C? It’s a miracle we are even married……….oh and the second date wasn’t much better.