I’m just a girl who can’t say no. So it was all rather awkward when a friend of a friend called to ask me out because I absolutely didn’t fancy the guy; I didn’t even like him.
His call took me by surprise as our mutual friend hadn’t told me he’d asked for my number. I’ve always been unfailingly polite – to the point of lunacy – and I wanted to turn him down nicely. Unfortunately, I was already on the back foot and I didn’t handle the conversation well.
Continue reading Don’t Let Me Down Gently
Two cocktails down, and we were getting on rather well; time for a bite of supper.
We stumbled into a Mexican restaurant and ordered alcohol and food. Pork tacos for me, chicken tacos and a side of spiced potatoes for him. The food duly arrived, and we tucked in.
“Try the potato”, he offered.
“No thanks, I’ve got plenty of food here.”
He leaned in. “Try the potato. It’s really good.”
“Really, I’m fine. I don’t really fancy the potato.”
“Why won’t you try the potato? You really should try it.”, he insisted.
I started worrying that he was going to leap over the table with a forkful of the stuff.
“Fine. I’ll try the potato” *chew chew chew* “There you go, I’ve tried the potato, and it’s very potatoey.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and smiled, apparently satisfied.
At the end of the night, he gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good when you know where you are in life, isn’t it? Even if we’re at different stages.”
I’m still not entirely sure what he meant, or how he came to that conclusion. It was probably my reluctance to try the potato.
I’d been seeing a guy for a little while; he lived a long way away, so all our dates had been in restaurants and bars. This meant we hadn’t been to each other’s homes, but one night he finally invited me over to his to stay the night.
We went out for a meal first, but he was on his phone for most of it: “Sorry about this, but work’s manic, I’ve got to check my phone”. When we eventually got back to his, he barely said a word to me, just kept looking at his phone.
I couldn’t work out what had gone wrong, and I wanted to leave. Unfortunately, I was too far from home to get public transport back, and I’d had a few glasses of wine, so I couldn’t drive.
I was stuck at his. He clearly didn’t want me there, but there was nothing that could be done.
Continue reading Personal Space
We went out for hot chocolate. He grabbed the bill as it arrived:
Him: “Do you want to see me again?”
Me: “Sure, I’ve had a nice time”.
Him: “Are you sure you want to see me again?”
Me: “Yes, I just said I did”.
Him: “I don’t want to put you on the spot here, but you’re definitely sure that you want to see me again?”
Me: (getting less sure by the second) “errr, sure, yeah”.
Him: “Well, in that case, I would be delighted to pay for your hot chocolate”.
Him: “Well, I wasn’t going to offer to pay for it if you’re not going to see me again.”
Me: “It’s a £2 mug of hot chocolate. I’m fully prepared to pay for it myself.”
Him: “I’ll buy it for you if you’re going to see me again”.
Me: “I’d really rather just get it myself, thanks.”
Him: “No, no, no, I insist. My treat.”
Me: “No, really.”
In the end, he bought the bloody hot chocolates. But he never called me again.
Many thanks to Vince for sending in this story of a terrible, terrible date:
“My friend and his girlfriend set me up with her friend on a blind date; we all met up at the girlfriend’s parent’s house. Within five minutes of meeting, my date told me how she hated blind dates; was only there because her friend insisted; and thought the gaps in my teeth “looked weird”.
We were due to hang out at the house for the weekend. I left 90 minutes after I arrived.”
Thank you Vince!
If you’d like to share your dating horror story, please click here:
He insisted I listen while he read something out to me; a 7 page article from “Architecture Today”. I am reasonably good at doing “polite face” but that was a challenge too far, and around page 5 I started yawning (he didn’t notice, he was too busy reading).
Within 20 minutes of meeting him, he murmured in my ear, “So, how about you come round to my house later and give me a blow job?”.
Now, let’s be clear, we weren’t actually on a date or anything (even so, it would have been rather forward…). No.
He was my new hairdresser.
Yes, he was cutting my hair, in the middle of a salon, when he decided to give me the come-on. And I still have no idea, to this day, what compelled him to take that conversational turn. And, no, I didn’t accept his kind offer.
Hey, here’s our first guest post! Thanks Debs for sharing this story of a terrible, terrible date:
“We went to the cinema, and he turned up wearing the ugliest orange anorak I’d ever seen. After the film, he said he needed the loo and asked me to hold his jacket.
He was in the loo for about half an hour, while I was left as the weirdo hanging around outside the men’s with a bright orange thing under my arm! I’d have run off, or assumed he’d done the same, if I wasn’t holding the damn thing!
When he came out, he took his jacket, said he was tired and went home.
I did see his unattended anorak in the library a few weeks later, but needless to say, I didn’t stick around in case he asked me to hold it again!”
Thank you Debs!
If you’ve got a dating horror story to share, please click: http://thewinninglines.com/tell-me-your-story/
Text received after first date: “I’m sat here in my blue underpants, contemplating whether to abuse myself or not”.
In fairness, English wasn’t his first language. But still, it remains the least erotic text I’ve ever received ever ever ever.
We were in a restaurant. I put the menu on the table in front of me, and leaned forward to read it. As I did so, I rested my hands on my elbows.
Him: “You’ve crossed your arms. You must be feeling uncomfortable”.
Me: “I’m fine. I’m just reading the menu.”.
Him: “But you wouldn’t cross your arms unless you were feeling uncomfortable. I’ve studied body language. Everything you do means something.”
Me: “Yes, it means that it’s comfy for me to have my arms like this, while I’m reading the menu”.
Him: “But you wouldn’t have done it unless you were feeling uncomfortable”.
Me: “I’m fine, really”.
Him: “Are you feeling uncomfortable?”
Me: “Now I am”.
He continued to comment on my body language and facial expressions (despite me repeatedly asking him not to) until I ended the date, forty minutes after it started.
Another internet date. He emailed me several times beforehand to say how nervous he was. And then the date rolled around:
Me: “Hi, nice to meet you finally. How are you?”
Him: “Still really nervous. This is the first date I’ve been on in twenty years”.
Me: “Well, no worries, we’ve all got to get back in the dating game at some point. When did you and your wife split up?”
Him: “Last month.”
Me: “Oh. Really? Er, OK, but isn’t that a bit soon to be dating, maybe?”
Him: “Well, why not? You never know when you might meet the love of your life! It could be you!”
IT WASN’T ME.