“Play it nice and cool son, nice and cool…”

Biscuit

Oh dear.

Lessons I have learned:

1. Margaritas have tequila in, a LOT of tequila.
2. Loudly proclaiming “VAGINA!” will not win you friends in either wine bars or restaurants.
3. Being obstinate to snooty girls in a restaurant is not clever (and will also not win you friends) but it is funny.
4. Sporting visible sex injuries from a previous partner is not good bedroom etiquette.

Chapter 1: The Aquarium

So, the much anticipated aquarium date. I thoroughly recommend it as a date location. The only bad thing is that I was sad there was no octopus (it was new and shy and so I was sad). Aquariums allow you to point, giggle, coo and touch a starfish. I want a starfish.

The aquarium was about 3 hours of quality date. I got Indy one of those squashed pennies where you put your money in the machine and squash it between rollers to print a design on it (never let it be said I’m a cheap date). We looked at fish, heard the word “Nemo” about 25 times in one minute when looking at clown fish. I had a couple of special moments involving a wall of mirrors and accidental use of the phrase “turtle head”.

Basically that is how a date should go. This is before the booze.

Chapter 2: The Wine Bar

Then we went to the wine bar. Having never previously stepped into one, my opinion of wine bars has been pretty low and based on the “Only Fools and Horses” episode where Del Boy falls through the bar flap. This was actually a pretty cool place with rustic wood panelled walls and a deli bar doing continental cheeses and meats and things. Every now and then staff would wander by holding a beautifully presented delicious smelling cheese based snack.

The place was HEAVING but we found a corner by the bar and drank wine. Over a bottle between us. This was the first of the “VAGINA!” episodes. This was entirly relevant in the course of the conversation but the explanation isn’t nearly as good as the effect. Indy was so amused that she egged me on to do it one more time (after the first 3) as more people passed..

Top tip: Loudly proclaiming “VAGINA!” will make anyone passing suddenly look alarmed and surprised at you.

Chapter 3: The Restaurant

We were hungry so then found a Mexican restaurant. We were told it was half hour wait for a table so hit the very crowded bar area. I was instructed to buy a jug of margarita so I bought a jug of of margarita. A very LARGE jug of  margarita.

Margarita is apparently full of Tequila. I did not know this. In retrospect, I think I was confusing it with sangria. The two are VERY different.

It was then I was obstinate to the snooty girls and was shot daggers by them . Although this all seemed the correct course of action at the time, it was around this point of  recounting the story that Dragonforce exclaimed “Oh my god, you’re the worst date ever!”.

So we ate our meal. I concerned nearby diners with another cry of “VAGINA!” and by magically producing fire out of my hands. Conversation got quite excited and earnest in that drunk way when you proclaim all sorts of intentions and beliefs.

Chapter 4: The Aftermath.

This is the point I probably should have gone home.

I did not go home. My earlier stated plan of ‘meeting up with friends’ was totally up the spout as I had killed my phone battery with music listening and aquarium photo taking, so I decided to take up Indy’s offer of accommodation.

Both hammered on the heady and incongruous mix of wine, tequila and Triple Sec we somehow made it by foot,tube and bus to Indy’s place. We did the cursory polite chat to Indy’s  housemate and her boyfriend (which should have been mildly embarrassing but I was feeling appropriately brazen).

Now, I won’t offer this next little lesson as a tip as it is rather well known already: Copious lashings of alcohol do not make for good sexy-times. In short (and restraining from anything too graphic) there was nakedness, there was an earnest attempt at hijinks. Around this time I also realised that I was not so interested in hijinks. This made for a rather failed attempt. There were various other shenanigans before I was overcome with the NEED to sleep.

Whilst I was done for the night, karma was not done with me. I awoke at 7am feeling bad. Not morally bad or the kind of bad where you have accidentally killed the hamster and framed your younger sibling, but the kind of bad where you know you are about to be punished. I necked the collection of painkillers I had and hunkered down for the rough ride.

All I needed to do was keep them down long enough to work. If my stomach ejected them now there was no hope for me.

20 minutes later I could stave off the seemingly inevitable no longer and hit the toilet. The good news is that I managed to retain my pharma-meal. The bad news is that it was now that I saw myself in the mirror and realised that I was marked. I was marked on my back from a very recent sexual encounter and just about to head back into the now light bedroom.

At this point I feel I should probably explain myself. This blog is an account of mine and Toast’s attempt to win the wager and get married first. As such, and according to the rules, I have included all the dating related tales. However, a few days ago a very good female chum and I were drinking. We drank a little too much and ended up engaging in rather inappropriate activities. Activities which left *ahem* ‘marks’.

I reasoned that I could probably explain them as scraping on a rough wall but Dragonforce later inspected and assured me that their origin was rather obvious.

It was then that I had my second revelation. Without either of us realising, the ‘painters’ had quite seemingly begun their visit the previous night. Further evidence of this was quite obvious back in the bedroom as there was quite a lot that had beer, err, ‘painted’ (although I should say that this does not bother me at all).

With a pounding headache and  rising nausea all I wanted to do was leave to get some fresh air. I settled for breathing at the open bedroom window like a dog in a car. Sullen, sorry, and quite, quite deserved.

Eventually the drugs knocked me out and I slept off the worst of the side effects. There was another brief spell of hijinks but I was feeling so rubbish that I really didn’t feel up to it.

My name is Biscuit and I should not get drunk on dates.

The thing is, I did rather enjoy spending time with Indy and we clearly egged each other on in the drinking stakes. I have realised that I am just not really feeling the chemistry I’m looking for.

Marriage percentage – 20%.

After my behaviour, I think my own marriage percentage would be substantially lower. This is not going to do my odds of winning the wager any favours at all.