On The Rampage: Worse First Date
After our intrepid reporter Barry uncovered an email from a rather caddish young chap complaining about an unsuccessful first date, this found its way into our eds’ inbox, purporting to be the other side of the story…
Hope life finds you well.
Well, I decided to take your advice to ‘get back out there’ and went on a blind date last Friday. I’d never been on one before but after spending the last year dating various guys with the personality of a cornflake, I figured what did I have to lose?
Let me give it some context. Remember the guy who showed up to a first date in his cycling shorts (to avoid chafing) with Sally Henson legs? Well, he was a world class dreamboat compared to the toolbag I met the other night. His name was Macca (that should have been the giveaway really, but a rose by any other name etc, etc…).
Don’t have much time to explain properly so will just have to give you the bullet points…
- Leave house at 8pm.
- Running late after mini wardrobe crisis (heels were quickly dropped at the risk he may be more Lord Farquadd than Prince Charming).
- Text him on way to tell him I’m running a little late and ask where to meet as he was not clear.
- First date nerves really setting in. Think about all the other things I would prefer to be doing than going on a blind date: watching paint dry, watching Fair City…
- Get to restaurant. He doesn’t seem to be there yet so order drink. Look around at other couples and think for a second maybe this one will be someone, you know, important. (‘He was late for the first date’, we will jovially tell the grandkids)
- Receive text asking where I am. Surely he has realised there is an upstairs too? Turns out he had the wrong place and was in the ‘Elephant and Castle’ as opposed to the ‘Bull and Castle’. Wonder how smart he could be to mix up ‘bull’ and ‘elephant’ but sure we all have our moments.
- Head to Hogan’s and finally meet him there. He smells of drink and is a little tipsy. The chinos are out in full force, all matched with a blazer and shirt that implies he thinks he is cooler than he is, or else Paul Galvin is his fashion icon.
- Begin by chatting about Paddy’s Day. Give him a quick summary of mine (BBQ and beers). He then goes on for about 20 minutes about his ‘mental’ Paddy’s Day which seemed to just have involved a game of King’s Cup and Coppers.
- Talk about work a bit; he seems interested but quickly turns it back to being about him. He has one of those jobs that involve getting paid for being on Facebook and Twitter all day. ‘It’s LOL-a-minute’ he says and bursts out laughing. I laugh too until I realise he’s not being ironic. Oh dear.
- Leave Hogan’s after a couple of drinks. He is full-on drunk at this stage, openly checking out the girls beside us leaving the pub as he walks out ahead. I feel like leaving him with them.
- He makes a racist joke about this guy while walking up the street. I laugh because I know I can quote it later to friends as proof of what a tool this dude is.
- He is starving he says, and wants to get food. Thinking this might sober him up a bit, I bring him into the nearest place I see, which is Rick’s. He inhales a chicken burger and chips like somebody was going to take it off him. I attempt a few conversation starters but the talking with the mouth full is just getting out of hand now.
- We head to the Quay’s bar. It’s packed with people, 97% of whom are more sober than my date. Make eye contact with a pretty hot guy on way in… wonder if there is any way the universe would let me do a trade?
- Running out of things to talk about so bring up my summer in San Francisco in the hope he may have done a J1 too. We could find SOMETHING in common yet. But no, he spent the summer back home in Kerry which he insists is better craic anyways.
- Wonder how I’m going to get out of this date, thinking it might be time to arrange the ‘There’s been a terrible emergency’ call…
- I yawn openly and ask him what he wants to do now, hoping he will get the hint that I’m tired and want to call it a night (there’s only so much douchebag a girl can be polite to). Luckily he does and we leave.
- Outside the bar, he launches himself on me for a fairly unexpected goodnight kiss. It’s awkward, oh it’s awkward.
- Jump in a taxi, telling him I’m heading home.
- THANK GOD THAT’S OVER.
- The girls are in The Market Bar and I can still catch last orders. Need to tell this story while it’s fresh.
- Text Maria saying she certainly ain’t no Cilla Black.
- Meet the girls. They applaud for me having the balls for going on a blind date. I say it was the first and last.
- The nightmare date becomes a pretty funny story two drinks on. Especially to the dude from The Quays bar who just so happens to show up later in Rira… maybe not a total waste of a night…
So, let me share with you my pearls of wisdom from this little life experience.
- Blind Dates are never a good idea. Ok, fine, sometimes there are exceptions, but if you took anything from watching ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ 15 times, it’s that you must expect the rule, not the exception. Even though they were all exceptions at the end of that… wait, what was the point of that movie again?
- If a girl says a guy is nice once you get used to him, tell her you haven’t got that much time. In fact, unless the words ‘Ryan Gosling’s long-lost identical twin brother’ are used, then don’t bother getting out the ghd.
- And finally, if you show up to a date in every piece of clothing Gok Wan has said is trendy for guys at the moment, you have too much time on your dainty ‘never opened a flatpack’ hands.