Home > Adventures in Dating > “I’d be a fucking lucky break, especially for one of those twats”

“I’d be a fucking lucky break, especially for one of those twats”

Biscuit

Friday night night was something of a last minute plan. With Dragonforce now in Quatar, I agreed to meet a man I barely know to go drinking on the rock scene. Toast then gleefully announced that the planets had aligned in his favour and he *would* go to the ball come to London after all.

“You two really are a right pair of pussies.” – FleetStreetFox

In a ‘come one, come all’ spirit, I threw the invite to join us open to all who I thought might fancy it. I was joined by FleetStreetFox who, prior to meeting us a week earlier had scathingly taken us for a couple of inept morons. Whilst that may well be the case, we were clearly shaping up to be a likeable couple of inept morons at least.

“Your joint state of pathetic romantic anxiety would probably not help you get invited to any [threesomes]”
– FleetStreetFox

With Toast planning to hook up with us after meeting Betty Page I attempted to coerce Scalene to join us to in an effort to reunite the anonymous blogger quartet from the previous week, but he was otherwise engaged on a non-romantic encounter.

“You three would make the world’s least successful and most inept sexual tag team.” – FleetStreetFox

FleetStreetFox was again living up to her moniker, dressed in figure hugging black and leather; serendipitously the unofficial uniform of the rock scene, so she fitted right in!

Alternately pouring caustic scorn on the perceived fashion crimes of the venue’s incumbents and confusing Toast by replying to his Betty Page updates on my phone, she was thoroughly enjoyable company once again.

“Biscuit would have to be Soggy Sam. Liable to wilt under pressure.” – FleetStreetFox

After a while I even managed to overcome her reticence and enourage her onto the dancefloor, which felt like a deleted scene from “School of Rock” where Jack Black teaches that it’s easy to dance to rock music after all.

Then something utterly surprising happened. Standing at the top of the stairs we were face to face intently discussing something that has long since ceased to be important. The next I knew, we were kissing! Blimes!

Leaving for home shortly after, we grabbed a taxi back to mine as she had previously arranged to crash in the spare room. There may have been unspecified further hijinks but, being a gentleman (and fearing for my vital organs) there will be no further details.

Or at least someone attempted hijinks but I was having none of it because I’m not that kind of boy.

” I still think that eventually one of you, or Scalene, will elope with the foxy FleetStreetFox.” Molly Bennett

“You will have to arrange a lobotomy too. And get several bottles into me.” – FleetStreetFox

Throughout the night, I had taunted her that every time she rifled through my phone/facebook/email messages (ever the tabloid journalist) I was deducting from her final marriage percentage.

With this in mind, and obligated by the rules to provide a M%.  I can officially declare the final figure.

Marriage percentage: minus 13%

All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable night with great company! Now, if  she could just refrain from trying to find out if I am conducting an illicit homosexual affair with my ‘advisor’ or am hiding a body under the patio then she could have retained the previously healthy score. She can’t say I didn’t warn her!

*runs away and hides… and changes name…*

If there is a lesson here, then it is surely the following: We might APPEAR to be utterly hapless twats, but we are at least personable with it!

“I am NOT ‘an opportunity’, neither.  I’d be a fucking lucky break, especially for one of those twats. JESUS.” – FleetStreetFox

Advertisements
  1. fuckwittery
    September 12, 2010 at 1:26 pm

    Not really a surprise – it’s as old as Shakespeare – The lady doth protesting and all that… Funny though!

    • September 12, 2010 at 3:25 pm

      Well it was a surprise to me! I even said something to the effect of “did you expect something to happen???” to which she replied “I suspected, yes”.

      …although I fully expect to be corrected on that! ;)

  2. fuckwittery
    September 12, 2010 at 3:46 pm

    That’s because you’re a boy and therefore endearingly thick *pats on head*

  3. September 12, 2010 at 10:47 pm

    fuckwittery :

    That’s because you’re a boy and therefore endearingly thick *pats on head*

    *Sits downs and waits for treat with expectant, but vacant, eyes.*

    • fuckwittery
      September 13, 2010 at 9:16 pm

      *locks biscuit in cupboard*

      • September 14, 2010 at 12:09 am

        That’s either cruel or kinky.
        Or both.

        …I’m SUCH an abused wife!

  4. September 13, 2010 at 6:47 pm

    This entry made me alternately feel swoony with romance, and uncontrollably giggly. I adore it.

  5. September 13, 2010 at 7:13 pm

    Txtingmrdarcy :

    This entry made me alternately feel swoony with romance, and uncontrollably giggly. I adore it.

    Was it the bits where she refers to us as twats that make your knees go weak?! =D

  6. Fleetstreetfox
    September 14, 2010 at 11:41 am

    I hope everyone has noted that I am maintaining a dignified silence. Mainly cos otherwise someone’ll be quoting me and making me look a gobshite.

    • September 14, 2010 at 1:06 pm

      And you were doing a great job too… right up ’till about now. ;)

  7. September 15, 2010 at 11:40 am

    Saw this one coming, was an easy call. You’re so damn cute with your complete inability to read girls, Biscuit.

  8. Fleetstreetfox
    September 15, 2010 at 12:33 pm

    I WAS DRUNK.

  1. November 10, 2010 at 7:16 pm
  2. May 3, 2011 at 3:23 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s