There are dates, and then there are EPICDATES. The distinction was created while the Theatre Producer was in America. Dates are dates, Epicdates are above and beyond the call of duty. I said when she returned I would like to take her on EPICDATE#1, she agreed.
(Normal dates can happen between EPICDATES).
There was a lot of planning, focus groups (no really, I asked a mutual friends), diagrams and brainstorming sessions.
The eventual plan was simple, I’d meet her at the airport when she got off the plane and then I’d take her to a restaurant. That doesn’t sound very epic right? Well the latter bit of it.
I had a plan.
Some friends had just opened a new restaurant in London. I’d been going to their other places for years and I was owed a favour.
So I went in and chatted to them and they said they could give me super-dooper treatment. A reserved table, champagne on arrival and a tasting menu of food paired with the perfect wine to go with each dish.
That sounded quite epic so we went with that.
I hadn’t told the Theatre Producer what we were doing, but I had let her know of the required dress code and given a couple of clues to add to the fun. I said that smelling was involved and that it was something that couldn’t happen until recently. I also gave a vague location.
Annoyingly she worked out where we were going. Now I do find intelligence very attractive but this sort of fiendish detective work had caught me slightly off-guard. Future EPICDATES wouldn’t involve any clues.
I pretended she hadn’t worked it out (It’s amazing how much deception is required in romance) and met her at a nearby location. We said hellos and went into the restaurant.
The moment we appeared through the door we were ushered over to our table and given a glass of champagne and sat down. The Theatre Producer was showing the right mix of surprise and excitement.
The owner came over. I introduced him to the Theatre Producer and he suggested a tasting menu of dishes which he would select wines for. We went with that.
Dishes started arriving. Each one would have a perfectly chosen wine to go with it. As in perfectly chosen. The wine would be explained with tasting notes so we had impressive things to say while trying it
‘Oh yes this one is very structured’
‘You can really taste the wine-yness of this one. By the red tone colour you can tell this is a red wine.”
‘The lack of tannins compliments the duck perfectly’
Guess which one was my phrase.
The evening rushed by, we ate potted duck, perfectly cooked steaks, salty greens, beautiful cheeses and everything was matched with the perfect drink and attentive service.
We talked about all sorts of things, exchanged stories and caught up, by the end of the meal we were holding hands across the table.
Some time later, and rather sozzled we finished off the meal with a glass of Tawny Port and stumbled off into the night.
We ended back at my house, on the flimsiest of pretexts. This was unexpected so I had to make the Theatre Producer wait in the kitchen while I furiously cleared up some mess.
I didn’t do a terribly good job, but I don’t think she was really noticing. There was quite a lot of kissing going on. She kept falling over in her ridiculous heels, so I picked her up and carried her upstairs.
* fade to black *
The next day we woke up and I made us coffee. Even though it was decaf it was poncy decaf and the Theatre Producer approved. I fed her chocolate buttons for breakfast in bed and then made us both scrambled eggs.
With great regret we went to work. It had been an epic first date*
Marriage Percentage: 55% – This feels a bit low actually but I’m trying to remain level-headed over this.
*if it was the first date or not is a source of debate and mild ribbing.
I love Wayne’s World. I understand it’s not a to everyone’s tastes but it does have its moments.
It really spoke to me when I was younger, perhaps I was just at the right age when it came out that having long hair and talking about rock music seemed impossibly amazing.
I must have watched it a 100 times, I used to know all the dialogue in the film off by heart. I hadn’t seen it in years, so when The Theatre Producer mentioned that it was being shown at the Prince Charles cinema as a ‘Schwing Along’ I got a bit excited.
I emailed some chums to see if they wanted to go and they got excited too. However we missed out an important step. Actually buying tickets instantly and so it sold out before we could get organised.
However a vague plan was formed. The Theatre Producer and a chum were going and I could meet up with them afterwards for a drink. I watched Wayne’s World on DVD to get into the right frame of mind and then hopped on the tube to meet up with them.
They were in a lovely pub tucked away in a back street, before I’d even arrived they had got me a gin and tonic which rather set the tone for the evening.
The Theatre Producer was wearing a Stacey (from Wayne’s World) inspired look. It involved a blue very swishy skirt, the dressing up theme continued as her chum was wearing an amazing body-con dress. We said hello and then talked about the cultural importance of Wayne’s World.
I got another round of drinks in, large drinks, well two rounds of large drinks because I feared the bar was going to close soon. We started drinking those but the bar closed so briskly that we had to fight to finish all our gin.
Then we went to another bar. I ordered a round, and then shots for nine people. There were three of us. In hindsight this could have been the point when the evening went a bit wrong.
There was a jukebox in the corner of the bar, full of lovely juke. We took it in turns to buy drinks and inflict our musical tastes on the bar people. There were even more shots and quite a bit of dancing.
Everyone was very mashed at this point.
A complicated matter of kissing
I was chatting away to the Theatre Producer’s friend about, well I don’t remember. I had been on a bit of a charm offensive because I had realised that The Theatre Producer made me feel a bit tingly and so I wanted her chums to be Pro-Toast.
The Theatre Producer had nipped to the loo. We were alone for a moment and The Theatre Producer’s chum kissed me. No tongues or anything just a kiss on the lips. I looked rather shocked not because it was unpleasant, but because it was a total surprise. I think I may have said blimes.
I then sort of told her off a bit about how kissing wasn’t allowed. In hindsight sounds a bit arsey but I did realise in my drunken state that if I kissed chums I probably wasn’t going to be allowed to ever kiss the Theatre Producer and that would make my tingles sad.
We had drunk an awful lot of booze at this point, and we’d even been talking about flirting so I can understand how perhaps I was sending out mixed signals.
The Theatre Producer returned and left the two of them to put more music on the jukebox. Foxy Lady to be exact.
There was some dancing, the Theatre Producer’s chum went to the loos and then the Theatre Producer said ‘So you’ve kissed X eh?’
‘Erm, well it was more like she kissed me. I told her not to do that anymore.’ I replied.
This continued for a bit. I can’t remember the exact words but I decided to kiss the Theatre Producer.
She didn’t say blimes and it was nice.
We had a brief chat about how this could be complicated because she knew about the blog. I said something about how while it did make things complicated I hoped it wouldn’t make things impossible. I think I may have said some slightly soppy things too.
We danced some more and even drank some more. It was time to head home. The Theatre Producer lived nearby so we said goodbye (with a little bit more kissing) and I fell into a cab home.
It had been a very surprising evening.
Jen, Toast and I had gone to the mash-up night on the Friday of the first of the two long weekends we’ve just had. On the Saturday Evening she text me to invite me to visit her (she lives outside the M25 remember) and get pizzled with her friends on the Sunday
Although I was initially a little reluctant, it sounded like fun and I did enjoy spending time with her so agreed to come and play.
After she met me at the station we sauntered down to the riverside bar where they were all drinking. There then followed one of those memory games where you have to memorise a collection of items before they’re covered back up, some removed and then you have to remember what was missing. Only I played this game with about 12 people.
Her friends were great value entertainment and I seemed to strike up a slightly jokey/antagonisic relationship with one of the girls fairly quickly. To be honest I thought I might have totally misjudged the situation and actually wound her up.
After a flurry of cocktails, we headed back to hers for grub before going back to town to a pub and then a divey, dark indie club. Here I met many more people, at this point I was struggling to remember most of them but just thrust my hand out and started talking to anyone who appeared to be part of the group.
The place was BOILING so I joined Jen outside to keep her company whilst she had a fag.
We’ve not actually talked much about either of our past relationships. I still feel sufficiently bitter about Cupcake that I don’t really want to bring any of it up. However we started to chat about some of our recent history whilst stood in the dark alley that was the smoker’s area.
I mentioned that she had said to me that she had blown out three other men who she’d been on dates with once we had a couple of dates. Well it turned out that one of the men I had been talking to was one of them.
This is the problem with small towns and why London is so great.
This was faintly amusing so, in the spirit of honesty, I said that she had been sat at a table in the comedy club with a couple of other people I ‘d done naughty things with. It was a relief to start to open up about things and we covered a little ground about significant relationships too. After some amorous kissing brought on by the party atmosphere and excitement of new levels of intimacy, we headed back inside.
Eventually it was time to leave. Jen’s feisty friend who had been particularly fighty earlier was full of hugs for me and effused to Jen, out of my earshot, about how lovely I was. Seemingly I had judged her just right after all, which I was reaslly pleased about as I didn’t want to come over as a dick to her friends.
The fun fair
After a VERY long snoozy lie in we took advantage of the amazing weather and walked to a local park that was hosting a travelling fun fair. You know the type; where wondering if the contraption will fall apart mid ride sending you hurtling to your death is all part of the fun.
We ate ice creams and too many donuts then went on the most vomit inducing ride we could find, which I somehow managed to make even more sickly by timing our momentum to keep us spinning at such a speed that the centrifugal force felt like it would break our neck.
Aren’t I just the best date EVER.
After a bit of a lie down on the grass to recover, we bid the fair farewell and she dropped me back at the station for my journey home.
Marriage percentage: 61% - I think this is really going somewhere. This is the first time in a couple of years that I’ve felt this comfortable with a girl I have amorous interests in. Of course… it’s not long until the May 5th deadline so I had better make my mind up soon.
One of the things that enjoyed most about living with Dragonforce was going to gigs and festivals and being able to get drunk, bounce around being punched by sweaty strangers and have an awesome time without the need to babysit anyone or feel bad for having fun. I’ve been to gigs with girlfriends before and it’s sapped my enjoyment if I can’t be where I want to be or feel guilty for being where I want to be and having to keep running back to check they’re ok.
When I last saw Jen we spent a lot of time swapping music recommendations and I invited her to join me at a filthy electro rock gig I had the following week. This was real make or break stuff. Seriously, had potential to be a bit moshy so it really could have been ‘break’!
Having spent the week with an ambivalent mix of excitement and trepidation she arrived at mine looking suitably attired for a gig: leather jacket, flats and some rather slinky jeans. Also her accidental Princess Diana haircut had now grown out to a fiery, slightly shaggy, rock chick cut. I was so proud that I wanted to take a photo to start an instructional “Dummies Guide to Gig Going” manual.
Because I had insisted on buying the tickets, she insisted on buying the booze. After the support band we settled into a comfortable spot in the crowd (after I’d finished mincing around, fretting that we’d not get where I wanted to).
When going to gigs with Dragonforce we used to use fluro wristbads to find eachother in a crowd. Her being about 5′ 10″ helped too. Despite being at a tiny venue with Jen, there was a not unreasonable chance of losing her as she is 5′ 3″.
As it turned out, she was brilliant. After the initial surge when the crowd sorted itself into ‘dancy’ and ‘non-dancy’ people, I slotted her into a space in front of me where she had a good view. We bounced around threw embarrassing spazzy shapes with abandon. She was gleefully absorbed in dancing whilst I would bound off for the odd song for tussle , then come back dripping with sweat to see her grinning at me. or whilst I fought off the bodies that would ricochet too near to us and I was worried about her getting hurt (I needn’t have been, she can look after herself)
She was even highly amused when, after kissing me, I unconsciously wiped my hand across my mouth because of sticky lipstick (hers, not mine… Wow, I’m really building myself up as a hot date)
I don’t think the night could have gone better. The more I date her, the more I feel like I’ve discovered a partner in crime. This is five dates now. FIVE! Look at me being a grown up and taking it slowly!
Marriage percentage: 57%
I would ordinarily add WAY more for that kind of excellent gig performance but she is already very high as it is. Is that a fair approach? If I had put on the 15% (at LEAST) that would otherwise be worth then we’ll be almost over the 70% and that leaves little headroom before we hit 100% and I have to propose.
I at least need to ask her more about her cat first.
Having seen Jen and had a lovely time with the dinosaurs, I still had a date arranged with the Irish Girl (who I will call Shannon). Technically this was a first date as the first time had been a chance meeting that turned into her deciding that I was her responsibility. It was a smooth move.
She had suggested an event that was part art installation, part performance, part interactive experience and all booze.
We were numbered and given fake money on entry. Apparently there was a ‘bingo wedding’ later. There was some obscure underlying game going on that we couldn’t figure out but soon discovered that we could illicitly collect more cash by sweet talking the ‘ruling elite’. Soon we were deeply embroiled in the game… or rather I was deeply embroiled. I’ve been known to be a little competitive at times. Hell, I think that’s a fair description of anyone who has a wager over who will get married first.
The second ‘Queen’ that we spoke to had a game of truth or dare going on. We didn’t dare refuse as we had no idea what sanctions might be employed. I had already seen her confiscate someone’s flag of nationality. I took a dare, which she was surprised at but there were too many awkward questions she could have asked. I was dared to sidle up to an unsuspecting woman and softly sing the first line of Lionel Richie’s ‘Hello’ into her ear… which I dutifully did.
Shannon was then dared to perform Irish dancing in front of a couple sat at the bar… however she copped out by explaining at length before not really doing any dancing. During this time I was schmoozing with the Queen for extra cash. Actually she was flirting back and was incredibly cute in her cape and faux military hat.
I then dared her to do her best dancing in the middle of the warehouse space, which she performed with flamboyance and abandon. I was impressed… and rather fancied her.
Before long I soon had more money than anyone else could possibly have had, 5 different coloured flags and a cardboard and balloon construction that was drawing envious glances and attempted thievery. I had also drunk a lot of cider. During some of this time Shannon had been happily chatting to a couple of SCUBA instructors about doing her PADI. I did hunter gather drinks too but at times she was content to let me run round on missions, slightly bemused by my behaviour.
I also found myself using any excuse to go and talk to the Queen. She knew we were on a date but was undoubtedly flirting with me as we kept having those lingering eye contact moments long after we should have been looking elsewher.
This is where I crossed a line in my mind. Between the cider, the party atmosphere, her cheeky but authoritative persona and my apparent total disregard for any good form at all, I started to try and work out how I could get her number WHILST ON A DATE WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
I’m not proud of this at all and I make no excuses. The truth of it is that the only reason I didn’t overtly try was because I wasn’t sure I could get away with it.
The stupid thing is that I actually had a great date with Shannon. She stole a royal standard and happily tolerated my exuberant excesses. She also clearly spotted that there was something going on as she put herself between me and the Queen on the dancefloor later.
To make my behaviour worse, Shannon then came and stayed at mine and there were hijinks. I walked her to the station in the morning and promised to sort out the next date, but in my heart I knew she deserved better than that kind of treatment. If I was hitting on someone else on a date with her it clearly means that:
- I need to SERIOUSLY re-evaluate my priorities.
- I’m clearly not that into her.
- I should save her from any of this behaviour.
I’m not quite sure how I got to this state. This is less ‘with great power comes great responsibility‘ and more ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’.
Marriage percentage: 5%. This is entirely my fault and not hers. I had a long chat with myself after all this… but that’s another post in itself.
The following is actual dialogue that happened on Thursday.
Toast: My sister is going to be there. Just warning you. She is a bit evil.
Biscuit: Sister? So no…
BISCUIT MAKES KISSING NOISE AND MIMES SNOGGING HIS HAND
Toast: She is my sister Biscuit
BISCUIT SLICKS BACK HAIR
Toast: And she is engaged, to a man, who will be there.
Biscuit: You haven’t actually said no.
Toast: I’m going to put this on the blog.
Biscuit: You’ve still not said no.
Biscuit: To the blog? So kissing is fine?
Toast: Blog fine, kissing sister not fine.
Biscuit: So just to make sure. You don’t want me to kiss your sister, much?
Biscuit: No to that you don’t want me to kiss her much? So you don’t mind if I do.
BISCUIT’S DATE ARRIVES
As a side note after meeting Biscuit my sister sent me a text message.
‘Biscuit seemed a good bloke although I suspect he might be a womaniser’
After seeing Claudia off to the Subway station and getting a grilling from Toast and MyLoveLifeInYourHands for my behaviour, we discovered that we had an extra day in New York. Toast has already covered that revelation and some of what we did during the day.
At some point I’d like to share some of the hypothetical questions that the other were posing to try and work out which of the girls I should marry. I won’t go through them here as they deserve a post in themselves but I will say I objected at the point that the questions turned to “The three of them are trapped in a burning building by a girder that has fallen on all three of their ankles. You have a hacksaw…”.
Boys are sick.
Seeing as how I had bailed out on Kim the previous night, I arranged to see her that evening. I even left a party and had to negotiate replacement subway busses in a journey which ended up taking about 90 minutes, but not before having some fun at Toast’s expense in revenge for the merciless questioning he’d given me on the ferry.
There was a lady at the party who Toast knew and had specifically banned me from kissing. This wasn’t a problem as I had no intentions of kissing anyone after my conduct over the previous week. His chum was such a good laugh that I ended up ‘fessing up about my actions and the fact that Toast had banned me from kissing her, which she thought was rather lovely and protective of him.
My revenge came because Toast spent the whole time throwing me ‘don’t you dare’ looks from the other side of the room. Tee hee!
When I arrived a Kim’s she was spending the night with her housemate recovering after the events of the preceding evening. Things felt slightly strained between us and I wondered if this was anything to do with having bailed on her the previous night. Eventually her housemate went to bed and Kim and I moved onto the same sofa.
Then Kim did something entirely unexpected: she turned the telly on. I found this a little confusing as she had specifically said that I should go over to see her. Resigning myself to the rubbish American teen show I laid down on the sofa and put my head in her lap where I eventually started to doze off. Had if not been for the TV this would have been an entirely agreeable situation.
It was a sleepy last night in New York and a lazy morning kissing and talking about music and photography. There were some goodbye hijinks and we gave each other a big hug before I had to leave to catch the flight.
Marriage percentage: 33%
I was confused by the TV move but I probably deserved a lot worse considering my behaviour the previous night.
Mostly I was sad that I had to leave and that it would be very tricky for me to see any of the girls in the near future.
Lesson learned: I heart New York.
Having accidentally (but happily) gained myself a promised American wife AND having been on a great couple of dates with Kim, I felt that this qualified the New York trip as an unmitigated success beyond my expectations. I specifically wasn’t looking to kiss any more girls.
As Saturday was (supposed to be) our last night in the the city, I had arranged to see Kim after work for drinking on the town and had invited Toast and MyLoveLifeInYourHands to join me after we’d had our fill at the brewery. I knew that Kim was planning for a messy night as she had some naughty pills that she was planning to share with a friend but thought it would still be fun.
You probably already know what happened, since Toast has spilled the greatest spoiler since revealing the end of Titanic: I kissed a girl.
I have several points in my defence but nothing that really excuses the behaviour:
- She looked like a young Claudia Winkleman.
- She had an initial air of ‘bemused quizzical indifference’ that piques my interest (in a Ramona Flowers style).
- The moment I heard her accent I fancied her.
- She had an adorable laugh and beautifully coy but sincere smile
- She saved my beer from being stolen TWICE.
- She looks hot in a balloon hat.
As I had arranged to meet Kim I held back from kissing her several times when the moment was conducive to it. The tension was becoming almost intoxicating, but I also knew that there was an outside chance that Kim might be joining us if her plans didn’t work out.
I got some increasingly mashed messages from Kim saying that her plans were all on and we should join her. By this point I was rather mashed myself and having way too much fun with present company to want to negotiate the subway network for the best part of an hour.
Eventually I got a slightly garbled message saying that she was staying out and I should join her. It was shortly afterwards that I kissed Claudia. Toast was making us pose for a photo looking wantonly into each other’s eyes. I can’t remember the scenario but the basic premise on Toast’s part was get me to kiss her.
We spent a lot of time talking whilst the others played pool in the next bar. I had already decided to stay. I felt really torn but I knew I wasn’t leaving Kim by herself and I was a little reticent to go given that she had obviously taken the naughty pills (yes, I clearly am attempting to justify my actions).
In a moment that almost made me melt because it felt like something straight out of a trashy American teen film, I had paused mid conversation and was just looking at her when she raised her eyebrow and said ”I know that look, you want to make out don’t you?”.
‘Make out’! I’ve never heard that term used in its native context before!
We did make out and it was very good making out indeed. However it was making out in a bar and I think we had already breached the etiquette of the situation. As the others were all happilly engaged in pool and fledgling bar brawls I said “soooo… would you like to go and make out somewhere else?”
That’s how we ended up with a house guest the following morning.
After we had all had morning tea and I had walked Claudia to the subway station, I sat back in the appartment and said to the others “Oh god, I’m such a bad person”. Toast replied “You’re not a bad person, you’re just acting exactly like one”.
At no point have I ever gone out with the express intention of kissing girls and I’ve never kissed any girls or done naughty things just for the sake of it. With all of them I’ve seen potential for something more than hijinks. This however, does not stop me feeling like something of a womaniser.
Perhaps I’m just not ready for the power that an English accent bestows whilst in the States.
Marriage percentage: 35%. I can’t believe I’ve met three people who I would happily pursue a relationship with in the space of a week. I’m still not entirely sure how it’s all happened.
Lesson learned: Applebee’s really does have the WORST coffee I have ever tasted.
Friday in New York, New York was almost Friday in Reno, Nevada. After MyLoveLifeInYourHands dashed off to Washington DC for reasons only understood by him, I felt inspired to pursue a similarly whimsical folly. So, goaded into action by the other two, I attempted to jet off to the other side of the country for hangouts (not sexy hangouts, just hangouts) with a pink-haired girl I’m chums with as a result of too many hours online Xbox play. Sadly I was foiled by a sudden increase in airfare so I was left with the slightly more sensible, but no less enjoyable, option of another night in NYC.
As Toast mentioned, we met Blossom and her chums for another drink. As with last time I was not exac ly on top form but was also sat on the end of a long table and all the conversation was directed away from me. This meant that, in combination with the background music and being a deafo, I basically couldn’t follow any of what was being said and so resigned myself to appearing antisocial.
When more of Blossom’s friends turned up I found myself sat opposite a girl with a lovely soft accent and next to the man who lived in a car (who I thought he was quite interesting) who had both turned up together. I assumed they were an item and so made great pains to chat to the car man so he did not think I was hitting on his lady.
After a bit, however, I got the distinct impression that they weren’t together at all. The girl was explaining to me exactly what a midwestern accent was. Apparently it’s so bizarre that the people in the American meeja never let the outside world hear it as I had NEVER heard this accent before. Thankfully it was very soft in her speech as she had lost the most obvious elements and sounded delicious. As she was talking to me I realised she was leaning forward a little, making lots of eye contact and playing with her hair a little.
I also realised that she had very kissable lips.
‘The Midwesterner’ was very sharp with her witticisms but also very kind in nature and had quite an interesting and responsible job. Conversation with her more than made up for whatever I appeared to be missing out on at the other end of the table. She also had a beautifully soft face with a kind smile and keenly intelligent eyes.
I opted to keep her company for a smoke under the guise that the place was too warm and making me sleepy. In truth however I was intrigued and wanted to know more about her.
I decided we would get married when she declared ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ is by far the best Star Wars film. I said I loved New York and wanted to be able to stay and she said that she quite fancied spending her 30s in England.
This marriage announcement took even Toast a little by surprise.
Having decided that we would get married, we spent the rest of the night demonstrating our spousal qualities. The Midwesterner was proving to be a supportive wife and I excelled at hunter gathering by bringing a gallon of cider and huge platter of meat. There were many more details that I would love to relate to you but the gallon of cider has not helped my memory at all.
Toast thought that he had the scoop of the evening when he slyly papped a picture of us holding hands under the table, however we had already snuck a kiss in the meat queue. Hee hee!
Toast asked “so, are you going to get married then?”. I thought for a second and coyly grinned back “yes”. I later confessed to Toast that I would have gone to a 24 hour marriage place if there had been one nearby as it seemed like the most perfectly impulsive thing to do.
After a few hours of giggling, comparing life priorities and sharing cider we decided that we would actually rather go somewhere else so that we would not feel so guilty kissing at the table. Saying our goodbyes to the rest of the crowd we walked hand in hand to The Midwesterner’s place.
Some things happened but they were between a husband and wife. They were very lovely things though and I would be very pleased if she were were my wife.
In the morning I was sad to say goodbye as I knew that the likelihood is that I wouldn’t see her again that holiday and she is so lovely. I took her number and hope to stay in contact. It’s not totally unfeasible that either of us will be in the same place again in the not too distant future.
Maybe we should arrange a trip to Vegas? Star Wars wedding?
Marriage percentage 50%, though I suspect this would only go up if we spent more time together. Despite the distance, I wouldn’t say she is off the cards.
7 nights: 1 city, 1 spouse to find. Despite resembling extras from The Walking Dead when we arrived in the country, we dragged ourselves out through a combination of caffeine and peer pressure. Time is short after all and we are on a mission.
Toast has briefly chronicled the kooky bar that we found ourselves in, still jet lagged and bewildered. Within a few minutes of being there I had seen pretty much everyone there and was furtively throwing glances at a pretty Asian girl who had caught my eye and I clearly fancied more than anyone else there.
I eventually got a chance to talk to ‘Kim’ and was bewitched by her delicious accent, asymmetric hipster styled haircut and cheeky smile. By the time we’d left I had her contact details scribbled on a scrap of paper (because I had managed to leave my phone in England) and had set up a date for Tuesday.
Monday night was uneventful as Toast and I crashed out for 12 hours sleep so Tuesday seemed to come quite quickly.
Edit, I forgot about this little gem of info: I warmed up for the date in the excellent bar that Toast’s OK Cupid contact recommended. The toilets in it were even so nice that I would have happily rented it as a tiny apartment. Fearing that we had been wandering the streets a little while and I was just off to meet a girl, I thought I’d take the opportunity for a quick ‘freshen up’ before the date. I’ve mentioned this kind of pre-date freshen up before. Thankfully I can now immediately tell the difference between squirty soap and squirty alchohol gel by texture.
I can’t, however, tell the difference between normal squirty hand soap and super cooling minty eucalyptus squirty soap. I minced back to Toast somewhat gingerly and sat there with a pained expression on my face for about 5 minutes. I felt complelled to explain my mistake.
Since ‘MyLoveLifeInYourHands’ was in Washington I left Toast to wander the streets whilst I went to meet my date.
Kim came straight from work and was wearing an endearing huge fluffy hat and working the smile overtime as she bounded towards me. We set of for a restaurant to grab some food.
At her behest we stopped by a comic shop and I found out she used skate. I tried my best not to go all doe eyed as she was racking up massive kudos.
We had the choice of a HUGE Mexican meal or a HUGE burger so had a quick snowball fight in the park across the road to decide and settled on Mexican with the proviso that we drank margaritas, which seemed like a reasonable deal to me.
Something started to feel very familiar.
The margaritas were huge, I mean seriously HUGE. They were so big that I took a picture of one next to Kim’s face to show how huge it was. It was then I had my realisation; I had been on this date before.
I was sat in a Mexican restaurant with a Filipino girl armed with enough margarita to give even Rasputin a bit of a gyppy tummy. This was exactly the setup of one of my first dates on the wager.
The date became pleasantly silly and we were practicing left-handed writing to see who would be the best at sending ransom notes or something.
Somehow we eventually beat the Sisyphean task (the man who had to push the boulder up the hill forever) of finishing the margaritas and Kim lead me to a bar to carry on drinking. Well, she tried, but I spun her round in the street and planted a cheeky kiss on her lips. Smiling coyly, we walked hand in hand to the next bar.
Although there was a pool table and cool hipster types hanging out, I didn’t really pay much attention as we spent most of the time chatting, giggling and kissing.
Kim had work in the morning so eventually we called it a night and I jumped on the subway with her as I needed to go and meet Toast who was on a date and had the only key to the apartment.
Finding him was promising to be a bit of a trek so Kim casually sugguested that it might be easier to stay at hers since she lived en route. This seemed like a much better idea so we walked hand in hand through the FREEZING wind to her apartment.
There was lots of kissing and other hijinks which was all very lovely, I really like her a lot.
In the morning I walked to the subway with her and kissed her goodbye at my stop with the promise of seeing her on Thursday night. Unfortunately my plan of heading back to the apartment was thwarted as Toast, the keymaster, was staying at girl’s place and MyLoveLifeInYourHands was in DC.
I camped in a Bagel shop for an hour and a half until Toast surfaced. There are certainly worse places in the world to be stuck than a New York bagel shop.
Marriage percentage: 35%
I am really looking forward to Thursday and seriously thinking twice about meeting up with any of the internet dates I had made vague plans with. Gosh, American women are lovely!