15 The Disclaimer

There are a few things afoot for this girl at the moment, which is all very good but has meant that my blog has taken a back-seat. I haven't abandoned it, nor is it the case that I've just nothing to talk about. Quite the contrary actually. It is just down to time constraints and I hope that normal service will be resumed by next week.

Unfortunately I couldn't wait until then to inform you that the sad day has come and that I've had to put a disclaimer on this blog. I was worried that if I left it any longer I might get sued in the meantime.

It started when a guy I know got in touch to say that he'd read one of my earlier posts, The Headmaster about a disastrous haircut I'd had. He'd taken note of my comment that you wear your hair every day and shouldn't scrimp when getting a new 'do'. He decided to forgo his usual trip to the barbers and instead splash out on a trip to a proper salon.

The problem was that as well as being £40 poorer, he also hated his new look and wondered 'what I was going to do about it.'

Er..?

The next thing was that when planning a night out with a friend she insisted I confirm by text that I will not write about any of our antics.

Now I can't win with this one. Some people worry that I will blog about them, whereas others are upset when I don't!

Some even inform me how they want to be described in the posts, which is all very well, but if I did as they asked you could be mistaken for thinking that I hang around with supermodels.

Recently, I've had many people tell me that they read about my money pot riches and they too are going to do that too.

Now I'm really sorry to be the bearer of bad news but the pots are not magic. You can do all the wishing and rubbing you want, but if you've only put £6.47 in, £6.47 is what you will get out. The money does not procreate and have little money babies. The trick is to have it for years like I did and lose track of what it has got in it. (See picture above for reference purposes)

So, in conclusion this blog will now bear the footnote that everything you read here is purely the opinion of the author and you should not take any of her advice unless you are mental. It is also recommended that you do not try anything at home unless supervised by a responsible adult. And you also need not worry that I will write about anything you say or do on nights out with me. I mean I have not mentioned anything about Taggart getting us barred from a bar after she was sick on the dance floor now have I? No, I haven't because I am extremely discreet*.

*Note that this rule does not apply to any men that have treated me badly. Rest assured that you will at some point definitely feature in here. And I won't even change your name. That means you Alan, Gerry, Robert, Jamie...

41 The Date Date part 2

It's a very strange experience going out with someone you've met online.

You don't have a mutual friend to discuss to start you off. Like you would if it was a blind date.

In fact you don't actually know if you have anything mutual to discuss.

You don't even get the chance to have a proper look at your date...

I know that sounds a bit weird, but think about it... when you are out in a group you can give them the proper once over while they are in conversation with someone else. You can even make licking motions to make your friends laugh if you think your date is lovely.

When someone is sitting in front of you though, and it is just you two, you can't properly look at them. It just comes across as staring. Then they think you are weird.

Instead, in online dating dates, you have to look at them without looking at them. All the while trying to fill that space that is meant for conversation. Silences do not work on internet-born dates. They are more than just awkward...they are excruciating.

So, feeling slightly unfeminine after taking on the role of the man, and being the chattier of the two of us, I decided to take the opportunity to be the girl and satisfy that weird fable that females talk a lot...

So, I talked. Ohmigod, I talked. I talked for Britain. No subject was out of bounds.

'Could somebody please get a gag for the girl with the builder's haircut. She won't shut up.'

I talked so much I tired myself out.

I got respite thankfully, (or maybe he did?) when Mr Third Base went to the toilet. I took the chance to check my phone. There was a text from my flatmate. Well?

I was still replying when Mr Third Base came back from the toilet. I apologised for being on my phone. He said it was ok and he'd take the opportunity to check his phone.

Oh, he had a text too.

Ohmigod please don't let it be from my flatmate.

Yes, my flatmate had insisted I leave Mr Third Base's number for him. Although I'd made him swear only to use it if he thought I'd been murdered, I knew his promises were empty.

I mean this is the guy that walked into the living room, saw me sitting with a male friend and despite not knowing who he was, or his relationship to me, asked if he was one of my internet dates.

Subtle is not a word I'd use to describe my flatmate.

Please don't let him have texted my date.

Please!

Phew. The text wasn't from him.

Finished dinner. Had another drink. Had been all very pleasant. What a nice guy. I was ready to go home though. It was a school night after all.

'What time is your train?' I asked.

'Not for another hour.'

Damn.

Get through the next hour. Walk him to the train station (well may as well keep to the theme of the date, with me taking on the role of the man...) and bade each other farewell.

Get home. Tired and drained from talking so much.

Flatmate wants all the gossip.

I didn't really have any.

Wants all the details.

I didn't really have any.

Asks me what my date was wearing (I don't think in a weird, 'what was he wearing?' leery, way, just in a curious, way. I hope anyway....)

I had no idea.

I realised he can't have made that much of an impression if I didn't even remember what he had on.

Also realised I'd just spent a very long evening with a stranger. And apart from not being very memorable, the only thing I had to show for it, was a lighter purse.

Decided there and then to invent a new dating rule...

1/ Always, always, always go on a pre-date first - It won't tire you out as much, and at least the most you will lose is the time it takes to have a cup of coffee.