Bleurgh Date ...

Sssh! I'm hiding.

Don't tell anyone ... but I may even have to leave the country for a short spell.

I can tell you're positively agog to know why. I bet right now you're asking yourself "Uh oh! What's she done now?"

You're wondering "Did she turn to bank robbery in order to fund that ridiculous addiction to shoes and chocolate?"

Or maybe "Oh no! She finally found poor Hugh Jackman! And now the Police are after her for kidnapping and sexual deviancy!"

You'll be relieved to know it's neither of the above (I'm still working on the Hugh Jackman thing).

The truth is actually much, much worse.

Last night I got an e-mail from a friend. Said friend is trying to talk me into going on a blind date.

*Notes all the looks of sheer horror with satisfaction*

See! I told you it was much, much worse.

Why is it that when you're single all your friends who are married or in a relationship see your relationship status as some kind of crusade? They are all on a mission to deliver you from singledom and nothing, NOTHING will sway them from their course. You are just a Godless heathen worshipping at the altar of Bridget Jones who needs to be educated and saved from yourself. Your frozen meals for one horrify and offend them. You throw the cosy universal order of things out of whack by making an odd number at dinner parties. Shame on you!

And so it begins.

First you get invited to a round of dinner parties, only to find a complete stranger sat next to you who just happens to work with a friend of a friend and who also just happens to be single too. You have to spend an entire evening making strained conversation while your meddling friends sit and watch and try to force a bond between you and the hapless stranger at every possible chance:

Stranger: "Did anyone see that documentary about the Sumatran Orangutans the other night?"

Friend: "No. But Kate just loves gerbils! Don't you, Kate?!"

Once they've exhausted trying to introduce you to every single man within a 100 mile radius then you start being invited to things like partner's rugby matches:

Friend: "What about that one?" pointing to the 6'4" gorilla, who's covered in mud and blood, missing his front teeth and is in the process of surreptitiously kicking the crap out of someone while the ref isn't looking , "I think Dave mentioned he's single"

Me: "Really? I can't begin to imagine why!"

Friend: "Are you being sarcastic?!"

Me: *Diplomatic silence*


Their next line of attack is to constantly update you on any singles nights or speed dating events they might have noticed in the local paper:

Friend: "How do you know you won't like it?"

Me: "I just know! It's not my thing"

Friend: "But it could be your thing! You might meet the man of your dreams!"

Me: "Or I could meet the man who abducts me and then cuts me into conveniently bite-sized pieces"

Friend: "You're just not trying!"


Next they urge you to join MySpace and Facebook and every other social networking site known to geeks to start trawling for possible mates:

Friend: "Don't be ridiculous! Normal people chat online too!"


And finally they start scanning the personal ads in the local papers:

Friend: "Well ok, he's a bit older than you'd normally go for, but you've always liked older men and it says he has his own car and teeth"

Me: "I'm hanging up now"

Friend: "Just meet him for a drink! You love all that historical stuff and he probably gets OAP discount to National Heritage sites"

Me: "Goodbye!"


So this is the stage I'm currently at with my married friends.

In the e-mail I got last night I was informed that the guy in question is a workmate of my friend's husband's sister. THAT'S how desperate they are to get me into a relationship! Their extended network of friends and family, people I've never even met, are aware of my single status and have been ordered to find a man for me.

"We know you don't like blind dates, but this guy would be PERFECT for you!"

Let me explain why I don't like blind dates ...

Because I've been on one.

And it was one of the most hideous experiences of my poor, young life.

Note: What I am about to share with you is all true ... there may be times when you doubt it, you may think I've just made it up to make my feeble attempt at a humorous post a little more humorous, but trust me, as ludicrous as it may seem, and it gets a whole lot of ludicrous ... this actually happened. I still have the nightmares to prove it.

I was 20. I'd not long split up with someone and I was feeling fairly sorry for myself, unattractive, unloved, slightly unhinged.

In an effort to raise my spirits and self-esteem my ever-lovely friends suggested I try dating through the personal ads. I was somewhat wary, why couldn't I just get off my face on Bacardi Breezer's in a nightclub and see what I ended up with at the end of the night, like everybody else? But no, my friends thought it would be far healthier for me to meet someone outside our social range, and what better way than perusing the personal ads? It would be fun and exciting they assured me.

So a few nights later found me huddled round a table with four other girls, drinking wine and giggling over the local papers.

I hadn't had a recent tetanus shot so we immediately ruled out all the ads that mentioned "no strings attached fun", "discreet man looking for ..." and "big cock for you" ... which reduced the number of viable ads by 60%. Then we took out the elderly and the ones looking for some hot boy-on-boy action ... which left approximately 4 ads. Which on the positive side at least made the selection process easier.

One guy was looking for a big and beautiful lady, which ruled me out, another wanted to meet Asian ladies, which also ruled me out ... so two left.

The ads included a phone number you could call and listen to a message left by the advertiser, so we called both.

Guy #1 Said he was a professional, non-smoker with his own house and car. That he enjoyed cinema, nice meals, walks on the beach, yadda yadda. Your standard personal ad basically. He had a pleasant voice but sounded a little wooden and uncomfortable. But ok.

Guy #2 Said he was tall, blue eyed, with his own house and boat, that he liked to go clubbing and dancing and liked to spoil the ladies. Plus when we phoned his recorded message he had the sexiest, huskiest voice ever!

Bingo! We had a winner.

Having consumed a fair quantity of wine and being suitably impressed by his ad and voice I was easily persuaded to leave my details, inviting him to contact me. Which he did. We had a slightly uncomfortable conversation, not seeming to have much in common, but he seemed nice enough and so we arranged to meet.

This is where it gets interesting (and hideous).

We agreed to meet at a pizza place which was close to both of us. Despite being more nervous than a ho in a nunnery and taking about 5 hours to do my hair and make-up and choose a suitable outfit, I got there first. It had already been decided that I would have an umbrella with me which he could recognise me by ... romantic huh? No long stemmed, red rose for this gal, just a cheap brolly with a handle shaped vaguely like a bear's head. It was as disturbing as it sounds.

So I'm sitting there and I see this guy come into the pizza place. But it can't be my guy, because this guy is short, practically a munchkin and he has a club foot. So naturally I dismiss him immediately. So why is he looking around like he's looking for someone in particular? Maybe he's here for a blind date too! I snort in a rather unladylike fashion at the thought of the poor girl who's coming to meet him, rather her than me. But wait a minute ... why is he looking over here? Why is he coming over?

Oh dear God!

Yep. It was him. And it got worse. He was dull as dishwater. He didn't make me laugh once (well not WITH him), which is an epic fail where it comes to me and men. Then he said we had to go halves on the meal because he was saving up to buy an airfix model of the Titanic or something similar. I was NOT impressed. So much for liking to spoil the ladies! Plus, the sexy husky voice? ... was apparently the result of an asthmatic needing his inhaler. Hot or what?

It was the longest night of my life. By 9pm I was faking yawns and commenting on how tired I was and how I really ought to have an early night. He didn't seem to want to prolong the evening either and we were soon heading home.

It turned out we actually lived quite close to each other, we reached his house first and he made it clear he didn't intend to walk me home, even though it was dark by then. Polite as ever I stayed a few minutes to try and end the evening on a friendly note, during which time a woman, clearly his Mother, poked her head out of an upstairs window to inform him there were some cold sausages in the fridge if he was hungry and that she'd taped Top Gear for him. So much for having his own house.

Curious as much as put out I couldn't resist asking him about his boat. We lived in the 'burbs of North London, where did he keep it? He pointed up at the house and there in one of the bedroom windows was a perfect little model of a yacht.

I went home at that point. And I swore I would never, ever go on a blind date again.

And I won't!

So if I don't post or comment for a while ... you'll know why.