Dating Disasters. Part I.

I initially promised you a laugh at my expense. Whilst working around a full-time job, full on training schedule and meeting friends, I attempt to be a ‘normal’ 26 year-old singleton and strip off my lycra, put some make-up on and see what the market-place has to offer. 

I would like to point out that whilst this is none of your business, I am choosing to write this blog so inevitably I will be judged. That is my decision. Whilst I think women should be able to date, snog, sleep with whoever and whenever they please without being branded; I choose not to. Therefore, when you are reading this, don’t all think I am up to no good. Since becoming a strong independent female (c. 15 months ago), I have only been on more than one date with three people and on more than two dates with two people (of those three people).  I am not doing the rounds although I am sure that would be fun. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time, energy or patience.  So don’t make those assumptions. 

As I said, this is none of your business but unfortunately, we live in a world where us innocent females are subject to being branded a sl*t where our male counterparts are awarded the ‘lad title’. I have respect for both. Have fun, be safe. Why not?!

So, here goes. A 26-year-old female unleashed. 

I promise to keep it confidential and tasteful (where possible). 

I am quite fussy over who I spend my time with, so I tend to go for honesty is the best policy. If there is no hope, I won’t mince my words. Gotta be cruel to be kind. I mean, I’ve not actually been on that many dates, but you get my vibe. If you make the cut for round two, you’re doing pretty well in terms of exceeding my expectations and in finding availability in my busy schedule. Decent of me, I know. 


I will refer to subject as ‘B’ for GDPR reasons (DM me for specifics).

After a 06:00 morning training session, 8 hour day in the office, Date 1 went very well although pretty standard. Dinner etc. I prefer something more active but got to take what you can get these days. The steak was good, and the chat was easy, nothing too taxing. I mean, I came away thinking I’d give him a second chance which surprised me as I had reliable background knowledge etc. 

Date 2. So, I had a GREAT TIME. Date 1 we met halfway, date 2, he picked me up and again we went for food and as I wasn’t driving, I insisted we had a few drinks.  Obvs he was driving so his consumption was limited to a diet coke (or two) and pizza. In my usual fashion, I talked and talked between eating copious amounts of pizza and apparently being drip-fed red wine. The dream. Pizza and a bottle of red on a Friday evening accompanied by a standard tall dark and handsome, life was good. 

All was going swimming(in red wine)ly.  He was laughing, I was laughing.  We went to leave and the next thing I know is that I am flat on my back.  I was still laughing.  He was NOT still laughing.  More eye-rolling.  Naturally, I had made more of an effort.  Sexy top, tight jeans, heels etc.  Heels are a bad idea.  I, no exaggeration, skidded about 5 ft. across the apparently slippery floor of the pizza restaurant and fell flat on my back. Yes, that would be in front of about 20 people and my date.  Sexy outfit not looking so sexy when you are lying on your back, in the middle of a packed pizza joint. 

So, what do you do in this situation? 

You pick yourself up, brush yourself down and suggest heading to the next bar.  Great idea.

Which we did. He enjoyed (was forced to have) another couple of non-alcoholic beverages and I had another fishbowl or two of red wine.  Said bar had live music.  B was not keen for a dance, despite my best efforts to persuade him otherwise and at this point I was taken home.  Good idea because my dancing ability is unfortunate.

Journey home was not overly memorable (not sure if it was uneventful, I passed out or I was just extra pissed).  However, once he had pulled up outside the flat, I had come to the conclusion that we (I) had a GREAT night and that we should 100% go on a third date. 

I conveniently left my jumper in his car (me subconsciously trying to secure said third date). 

I never saw that jumper again. 

Possibly not my finest hour but at least I find myself amusing.  

Next instalment to follow. 


Published by lifeoftri

26. Attempting to be a triathlete whilst having a life. Oh, and work to pay for both. Wishing for more hours in the day.

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