So there I was walking through the Trafford Centre with a stud muffin. A hunk of spunk. A hot piece of ass. Basically the most gorgeous guy you have ever seen. Phwoar!!
Well you would think so, wouldn't you? The fact he abandoned girls because they weren't up to his required standard, must mean he is something special himself?
If truth be told he was packing a few extra pounds. Being a guy though he'd get away with saying he was 'stocky.'
As for complaining about his dates not looking like their photos, I couldn't tell from his photo that he had a slight squint in one eye. Or a limp for that matter.
I realise that it could sound like I was on a date with Captain Hook. Please don't imagine that though, because inevitably when you start thinking of pirates, Jack Sparrow will pop into your head. I can assure you that Mr Trafford Centre was no Johnny Depp.
I was actually a bit concerned about his limp. It seemed like it was a new injury and he was still working out how to walk on it. I asked him how he got it.
'I did it years ago when I was mountain biking.'
'Oh right.' So not new at all. 'Does it affect you when you mountain bike now?'
'I don't know, I haven't been since.'
'Oh. What about when you ski? You said in your profile you love skiing. I used to go skiing. I went to France and Austria...'
'Yeah I went skiing once a couple of years back. On a dry slope..it was great!'
Couldn't believe I'd actually questioned whether I was outdoorsy enough for this guy. My walk to Harvey Nicks to participate in my hobby of cocktail drinking, probably means I'm more active than him. Liar, liar, your bum's on fire.
I ask him whether he wants to go for a drink first or go straight to a restaurant.
'You decide. The girls I've been out with before couldn't make decisions and it got on my nerves so I decided that on this date I'm leaving everything up to you.'
He was really getting on my wick.
I decide we should go straight for dinner. Get this date over as quickly as possible. (See some girls can make decisions. Wise decisions.)
We order and start chatting. The usual stuff. He tells me that his ambition is to go to America. I presume he means to live. No, he just means on holiday.
Now maybe I'm wrong but isn't an ambition something that you have to strive to achieve? Something you have to put blood, sweat and tears into? Something that you might never happen unless you work at it? (Like mine, which is to be able to do chin-ups. Ain't never gonna happen...)
Surely if you want to go on holiday to America, you just save some money and go? I mean, I've fulfilled his ambition three times.
I suppose there's always the possibility that he is a criminal...
'We're having a great time aren't we?' he says. 'Aren't we having a right laugh?...What about when we first met and I pretended to be a fat guy? Ha ha!'
I make a mental note that I must stop that bad habit I have. That habit of making the best of a situation and always trying to enjoy myself, because it seems to be giving him the wrong impression.
He tells me that he's checked the trains between Manchester and his town and they're frequent so I'll be able to see him easily. He suggests I go to his next weekend. Says I can stay over if I want.
Not in this lifetime.
Asks me if I have any pets. Quite glad he's moved onto safer chat territory but realise he hasn't paid much attention to things I've said though.
'Well no, because I live in an apartment, am a freelancer and am often working away. Pets wouldn't really fit into my life.'
You know how there is that myth that its always the girls that are the keen, clingy ones that move too fast? Not in mine and Mr Trafford's relationship...
'I'm thinking of getting a dog but don't worry, if we go away together for a weekend, I'll get my brother to look after it.'
A weekend away? Together? Hardly!
The bill comes. He pays. Good. At least there was one positive point to the date.
He gets up. 'I'm just going to the toilet. Don't worry, I will come back. Ha ha!'
Now was my chance. To do it for my sisters. To leave him, like he left those girls...
I'm sorry. I just couldn't.
I had to do something though...something to make him feel even a little, like they must have felt...
I shout at him across the restaurant, 'Actually now you've paid the bill I'm not too bothered whether you come back or not.'
So he didn't.
The End.
I wish! Of course he came back. He's so thick-skinned he thought I was joking.
And then since the date there have been plenty of texts from him. Texts saying what a great time we had. Texts reminding me what a hilarious joke he played on me. And texts asking me if I want to go over to his on our second date.
I have replied to him, but I can only presume his phone is faulty cause it seems like the 'n' and the 'o' letters just aren't registering.
