Does a kiss make it a date?

Biscuit

“Do it, and I’ll kill you” – Fuckwittery, at 9am this morning on this post happening.

I wasn’t allowed to post this originally. There was 4 hours of debate over whether this post would ever happen. This was entirely my fault. I made a promise that I shouldn’t have made… a promise that was directly in conflict with an earlier promise that I had made to Toast… and to you.

Bad Biscuit.

Despite attempting to be anonymous we have already met quite a few cool people as a direct result of writing this wager. Toast had originally contacted Fuckwittery to ask if she wanted to go on a blind date with me. She said she was too busy to go on any dates but was happy to set me (and Toast) up with her unsuspecting lovely friends.

As a result of this contact both Toast and I had been chatting to her via text and the occasional phone call (partly just to clarify the whole ‘Lauren’ situation).

On Tuesday night I spoke to her for the first time (concerning the fictional Lauren). This turned into quite a long telephone call. 5 hours to be specific. I had not spoken to a girl on the phone for 5 hours since I was with Aussie and we were on the opposite side of the world for a few months.

Curiosity getting the better of us, we agreed to meet up over a drink and I promised to debrief her on the blind date with her best friend. She said “you’re not going to write in this up are you”? Since it wasn’t a date, and slightly overcome with awe at just having spent SO long talking, I willingly agreed.

“alright, you can do it but you have to change some details” – Fuckwittery at 11am this morning.

At this point I would like to state that I met Fuckwittery at *Edinborough* station. She was wearing a *red* dress and *black* pretty shoes. She had bountiful curly brown hair, a cheeky grin, naughty eyes and the most impressive norks.

As we walked into the wine bar, I suddenly recognised it as the one that Indy took me to and I had spent the last 6 months trying to find again. At this point I vowed to myself not to shout “VAGINA” at all during our visit.

We got on well. We got on very well actually.There was light ribbing and lots of giggling. Lots of giggling and naughty eyes.

“I appreciate the need for a good story” Fuckwittery at 12am this morning.

I might have kissed her first.

She might have kissed me back.

We might have been heckled by a homeless person for snogging too much in the street.

I might have repeated my promise that I wouldn’t write it up… until Toast read me the riot act about rule 6.

I am obliged to rate a marriage percentage. Actually, considering this was a ‘not date’ it’s a very respectable 25% (I do know that whatever I put here I will probably get abuse).

Lessons learned:

• I shouldn’t make promised to girls I’ve never met, no matter how doe-eyed they make me go.
• I shouldn’t make promised that are in direct conflict with other promised I have made. This is BAD.
• Rule 6 is important and we can’t start moderating the blog or it becomes pointless and boring.
• Writing this post has felt a little like a communist-style self criticism, outlining all my shortcomings. I should at least get a little red book for my efforts.
• It’s not entirely my fault. Fuckwittery is a lethal combination of the things that I have serious weaknesses for in a girl.
• Don’t send friends on blind date that you might want to go on.

Challenge 1: Biscuit’s blind date report

Biscuit

This is the first time I had ever been on a *proper* blind date. I have been on quite a number of internet dates but those are different. With internet dating you have at least both been complicit in the selection of each other. For this date I was totally at the mercy of Toast’s selection.

Well… I WOULD have been at the mercy of Toast’s selection except he had been replaced by the fictional ‘Lauren’ as a proxy for Ms Fuckwittery setting me up with her friend.

This was all a rather confusing start to the proceedings and already laid a minefield of conversational faux pas that I would have to avoid. This would become even more hazardous  if drunk.

The original plan for the date was to go on a fantastic walking tour of London where you join a group of strangers and an urban troubadour takes you to notable sites, tells you interesting things and then you put booze in your face before moving on.

Unfortunately it seemed that the monsoon season had unexpectedly hit London.

I was standing tentatively at the edge of the tube station peering nervously outside at the impending apocalypse when my date, Lucy, arrived. She had tight dark curly hair and was rather pretty. She also reminded me (facially) of a colleague, although it took me a couple of hours to figure out why she looked so familiar and it kept bothering me the whole time.

Agreeing that neither of us particularly wanted to take up snorkelling or be forcibly whisked away to a land of scarecrows, lions and tin men, I deferred to Lucy’s knowledge of the local drinking holes.

Skilfully sidestepping any conversation about ‘Lauren’ we gabbled about how rubbish X-Factor is, vodka-bra and treasure-hunting. Occasionally she mentioned her friend (Fuckwittery) and how much I’d get on with her. This made me do my best ‘poker face’, which mostly consisted of looking whimsical and replying with something vague like “hmm”.

We moved to another place and started on mojitos. This may not have been a good plan for a school night but it was fun. When it was time to part for our respective journeys I gave her a hug and a light kiss on the lips. She kissed me back… for a good 30 seconds or so! It left me feeling rather chipper and frisky!

Fuckwittery was a little disappointed that the date did not go either brilliantly or terribly. I think she was hoping for a little more of a dramatic outcome!

I *did* really enjoys Lucy’s company, but this is the ‘Wed or Dead’ wager, not ‘Get a Fun Drinking Chum’ wager. The intangible chemistry that makes me think of someone as girlfriend material just wasn’t there. I wasn’t thinking about introducing her to my parents or going crabbing in Cornwall. I could see fun times, not love and marriage on the horizon.

Marriage percentage – 22%. If it was a ‘drinking chums’ percentage it would be much higher.

Lessons learned:

• Blind dates are fun.
• I need bad weather contingency plans for dates which are essentially outside.
• Just because I let a girl kiss me on the mouth it doesn’t mean I’m going to marry them, nice kisses can be just that.

Challenge 1: Blind dates

Toast

We have decided to set some challenges to make the whole experience of dating more fun. Or at least more trouble.

The first of these challenges is blind dates.

We have to set each other up on a blind date with someone lovely, or a complete stranger.

That is key, the set-up has to be with someone great and you already know, or some weirdo off the Interspaz but who you have heard is great.

I decided that it would the most entertaining if I set Biscuit up on a date with a someone connected to the blog.

The lovely Ms Fuck Wittery stepped up to the challenge and provided a potential candidate.

The only problem with this set-up is that we couldn’t work out how Ms F-W knew Biscuit, or me well enough to want to set Biscuit up on dates with her friends.

To solve this Ms F-W invented a fictional person called Lauren who knew her and Biscuit.

We (Biscuit and I) found this massively confusing, did I know Lauren? Why did Biscuit know Lauren? What was Lauren like? Did she like robots? Why didn’t Lauren want to date Biscuit?

So Ms F-W had to draw us a diagram.

Once we had seen this we finally understood what was going on.

I, Toast, had been deleted.

To be replaced by a fictional Lauren who was going to get all the credit if the date went well

The bitch.

Now Biscuit just had to arrange a suitable day and a suitable activity.

Lauren would probably claim credit for that too, the hussy.