The Date - Part 1
So I took a taxi to the 'Happy Greek' to arrive at 7.55pm. This is a good time to arrive for a date, not desperately early, not desperately late. I had barely contacted the Date in question as I don't want to seem to forward. Especially after the Photo debacle, and the fact that by the looks of him and his profile I was already severely doubting any sort of chemistry.
"Steve's" profile was as follows:
36, Dark Hair, Brown eyes, Divorcee, three kids, likes musical theatre and Science Fiction.
You can see why warning signals went off. Musical Theatre?
By the photograph he supplied he seemed not UNattractive, but then again I'm no Mona Lisa, so I try not to judge people on their looks. That's not to say if Bradley Pitt turned up on my doorstep dripping in warm butter I wouldn't oblige him with a shower...
I was wearing an excellent dress, green, silky with a bit of frill. I brought it for Mr Chowdry's Christmas Shin dig in 2005. Fitted perfectly back then, now it's a little tight around the corners. I contemplated the use of tummy tuck pants, but they left nasty lumps and bumps in the dress that screamed 'artificial assistance', I would rather go pantless. So I did. I'm "Leaving the door wide open" as my mum suggested when she noted the absence of VPL. I'm a second...well third...date kind of lady. Mum said "You could fool me." I chose to ignore it.
I shouldn't have dressed up so much.
To start with the taxi was late, which would have been perfectly fine, had the man behind the wheel had the capability of driving. He took three wrong turns, I had to inspect the A-Z and what's more three streets from the location he slammed the break on hard. A BUS pulled out in front of him. They are hardly difficult to miss. I flew forward - my own fault for no seatbelt - and thumped my head on the glass. Hello concussion, goodbye dress zip (which burst).
I hate cabs.
Always have done. Never had a good journey in one.
But the three glasses of red I had with Kathy after work meant there was no way I was going to attempt to drive. One glass and I was already tipsy. Hello concussion, alcohol limit and burst dress zip.
I met "Steve" outside said Happy Greek, trying to hide the crack in my dress seam, tend to the purple welt on my head, pay the cab driver having suddenly lost the ability to do maths, and not fall over in my heals because the red wine had knocked my balance off.
The Happy Greek was a Fast Food venue. Serving high quality Kebabs at low low prices.
Had he not been astoundingly handsome in person I may have just thumped him.
"Steve's" profile was as follows:
36, Dark Hair, Brown eyes, Divorcee, three kids, likes musical theatre and Science Fiction.
You can see why warning signals went off. Musical Theatre?
By the photograph he supplied he seemed not UNattractive, but then again I'm no Mona Lisa, so I try not to judge people on their looks. That's not to say if Bradley Pitt turned up on my doorstep dripping in warm butter I wouldn't oblige him with a shower...
I was wearing an excellent dress, green, silky with a bit of frill. I brought it for Mr Chowdry's Christmas Shin dig in 2005. Fitted perfectly back then, now it's a little tight around the corners. I contemplated the use of tummy tuck pants, but they left nasty lumps and bumps in the dress that screamed 'artificial assistance', I would rather go pantless. So I did. I'm "Leaving the door wide open" as my mum suggested when she noted the absence of VPL. I'm a second...well third...date kind of lady. Mum said "You could fool me." I chose to ignore it.
I shouldn't have dressed up so much.
To start with the taxi was late, which would have been perfectly fine, had the man behind the wheel had the capability of driving. He took three wrong turns, I had to inspect the A-Z and what's more three streets from the location he slammed the break on hard. A BUS pulled out in front of him. They are hardly difficult to miss. I flew forward - my own fault for no seatbelt - and thumped my head on the glass. Hello concussion, goodbye dress zip (which burst).
I hate cabs.
Always have done. Never had a good journey in one.
But the three glasses of red I had with Kathy after work meant there was no way I was going to attempt to drive. One glass and I was already tipsy. Hello concussion, alcohol limit and burst dress zip.
I met "Steve" outside said Happy Greek, trying to hide the crack in my dress seam, tend to the purple welt on my head, pay the cab driver having suddenly lost the ability to do maths, and not fall over in my heals because the red wine had knocked my balance off.
The Happy Greek was a Fast Food venue. Serving high quality Kebabs at low low prices.
Had he not been astoundingly handsome in person I may have just thumped him.