So let us picture the scene, after weeks of subtle flirting, strategic encounters and the odd illicit smile, he finally gets round to doing the decent thing and asking you out. Now I have sadly never been lucky enough to indulge in this kind of spine tingling tango. All of my boyfriends have been long termers or we have met in the pub. Don’t judge. So I was suitably excited when a good friend said that the man she had fancied for a while had made contact and invited her out on Friday night. It didn’t hurt that when asked for a physical description she compared him to a member of JLS. Trust me it’s not only teenage girls they drive to screaming! After a busy weekend we caught up, me the long term committed girlfriend practically starving for newly ignited passion and the thrill of new romance. I was ready to live vicariously. ‘How did it go?’ ‘What was he like?’ ‘Did he lift up his shirt like those nice JLS boys do?’ Sadly my ideas of Marvin and Co were swiftly dashed to the rocks as her first reply came, ‘He was half an hour late’. Now hold the phone, tardiness is never going to win a ladies heart, especially during one of the coldest winters known to modern man, but my girl is made of sturdier stuff and simply took herself off to the nearest pub to wait it out. On texting she discovered he was on his way. Let me emphasise that point, not only was he late but he didn’t have the decency to text or call and keep her from the hideous belief that she had potentially been stood up. Let us hope he arrived, flowers in hand, an expression of deep remorse etched into his face. That he had a cast iron excuse such as ‘my grandmother was on fire’, for his shocking time keeping. But no, it turns out he had just been drinking elsewhere.
The night spiralled from there, ordering shots (as the first drink), dodgy restaurants with limited options (didn’t bother to ask if she was a vegetarian), ill fitting clothes (again not in a hot JLS way), and finally stilted conversation. Now I know that not all dates will lead to romance and sparkles but this one seemed to represent a lack of respect or even effort on this gentleman’s part. So let us clarify some basic dating rules, in case we are ever in such a predicament;
1) Turn up on time, or at least contact the person if you can’t be. Obviously if your grandmother is on fire then that could be considered a valid excuse.
2) Ensure you have checked any basic dietary requirements so as not to poison or offend.
3) Drink with class and pace; try to make your date feel like you want to get to know them and are not simply a recovering alcoholic trying to get out of the house more.
4) Always check your clothing fits.
5) Ensure you abide by newly acquired pop related restraining order.
Dates are supposed to be exciting, where we represent the best of ourselves, so that later on in, if it works out and we find ourselves sat next to that person in our pyjamas there is a moment to cast our minds back to. We can look at that person next to us on the sofa and remember the fizz in the pit of our stomachs, the thrill of their text, then maybe, if they catch your eye at the right time, that could be a night when the pyjamas come off.