You will be very pleased to know that this was not a complete disaster. I mean the ending is still tragic, but I had a great time. Above average company.
Date 1. Bouldering/Rock Climbing.
In hindsight, this was probably not the best idea after a 2,800m swim set in the morning followed by an 80km (hilly) bike ride. I had burnt c.3,000 calories before lunch and had not consumed as many. Sugar levels were into the minuses. I had a minor case of the shakes – nerves combined with low sugar levels and a high caffeine intake are not recommended. I was basically vibrating.
Time was pretty tight. I turned up with slightly damp hair and a ‘fresh face’ after manically turning myself around off the bike. I would say I was ‘glowing’ (still slightly sweating after no cool down). Actively trying to avoid any sort of physical contact due to my ‘glow’ (sweat). I had the dilemma of whether to keep my jumper on and enhance my ‘glow’ or to take it off and just embrace my now very clingy t-shirt. So, there I was; sweating, with damp hair, basic make-up which I had applied at the traffic lights down the road and with a mild case of the shakes. Oh, I was also wearing a new jumper and you know how new jumpers like to malt, everywhere? So, I was also covered in a sort of a black fluff which helped to cover-up my artistically applied (patchy) fake tan. I like to make a good first impression.
I was very good at rock climbing. NAHT. I failed the belay test so had to stay in the children’s area. Bit awkward really. Haven’t been back since.
Somehow, I made the cut for a few more dates after this one. Impressive, I know. I think I got the sympathy card.
The dates could only get better after this one… anyway, he persevered.
Not sure how many ‘dates’ we had been on, but I had this great idea that I would amaze him with my culinary skills one evening. The fact he made it past my front door is a momentous occasion in itself. Congrats.
Ingredients were prepped, mid cooking (with wine) and there is this almighty wail. There they were, the smoke alarm’s (plural) ruining the moment. Can’t even pull the batteries out because they are connected to the mains. Not that I could reach them to pull the batteries out anyway – short girl problems.
Not just one smoke alarm but two of them wailing. So, there I was, running between the two, manically flapping a tea-towel trying to calm them down then resorting to balancing on the banister with one foot, trying to reach (hit) the main culprit. Meanwhile, the hob was still on (fml) and I had smoked us out. The duck was 100% cooked.
I don’t think he was overly impressed with my Thai Penang Curry with (crispy) Duck. I mean, you’ve got to love a tryer. At least I provided some decent evening entertainment. Clutching at straws here.
I try my hardest to deliver my best self but sometimes she just ain’t havin’ none of it. I did try to coax her out with some more wine et. al.but this only made things worse. It was a slippery slope.
Fortunately, I made swimming training in the morning (08:00 start with a 07:00 alarm on a Sunday). One thing I do not recommend is swimming with a hangover after little sleep. Poolside is very hot. Swimming hats exasperate a headache and if you need to be sick, well, you can’t really. I was in a very difficult situation. I also had to endure the banter from the occupant of the adjoining lane who found the situation rather amusing; at least someone did!
Other than a brick training session (also awful on a hangover) I spent the rest of the day wallowing around in my own self-pity (hangover).
Another day, another hangover.