Flaws and Jaws

I don’t recommend going on a date in a ginger beard. On the other hand it hasn’t done me too much harm as date #2 is in the pipe line. The story so far? Well it’s been a few weeks so let’s skim a few facts first:
(Useless G***, or UG from now on, says this blog needs more bullet points so blame him for the lazy styling)
*I finished my job at school, went to a yummy vegan café for a leaving do
*Had five days off (felt like an era) and went to the seaside and got sand in my pants
*Re-started ballet lessons and convinced myself I have whole body dyspraxia (a motor disorder)
*Took up spinning – my epic quest for thinner thighs is causing muchos paining
*Started my new job and hmmm three weeks in but ARGH! Oh and who should I see on my second day? SPANIEL! Oh and he fancied a chat. Grrrrrr.
*Went to a hippy-ish wedding in the lake district and got massively drunk on free champagne nicenice
*Went to two school discos (actual school discos in schools) and got massively drunk at one and just high on sugar at the other
Oh and ! internet dating relating news; four dates so far.

Date one: we met on a foot bridge in Camden. We drank ridiculous amounts of cider. I think I had an ace time but I was a bit squiffy. I think I liked him, but I was a bit squiffy.

Date two: this was drummer boy I thought I would actually like. Turns out he was a bit on the short side. We met in a cool pub in Holloway. He spent most of the night tapping his fingers on the table saying “ooh this is awkward.” Silence is golden, love, no need to fill all of it. He took me to the National Youth Theatre to see some horrific sixth form-esque performance bollocks. The plot was this: A boy took so much skunk he turned into a skunk. During Q&A the writer told us she was influenced by Kafka. I’m sure he’d be pleased at such paltry, underdeveloped use of metaphor. She also seemed to think it was the fault of parents that their offspring chose to get themselves addicted to drugs. *sigh* Drummer boy took me here cos there was a free bar – of orange squash. Bah ha ha! He ran into his mates – The Holloways funnily enough and this is where my heart really sank. Not only was he friends with such low lives he preferred to talk to them instead of me. No way to impress a lady.

Date three: didn’t actually happen. I was going to meet this boy, let’s call him Stalker, at a Pixies night in Islington. I had a friend coming from Manchester to stay and two other friends in London all coming. He was going with his mates so it was never going to be a high pressure date, after the last disaster. To cut a long and bitter story short my friends are cunts and didn’t turn up. Or tell me they had changed their minds. Or apologised. The next day I got an email from Stalker disappointed I wasn’t there. He’s also tracked me down on twitter and is stalking my every thought hence the moniker. A few days later I sent him an email saying we should go to do something fun, what did he suggest. “Are you asking me to ask you out?” FFS. Is this not the point of internet dating? If you’re going to be as useless as UG then you can twat off. There isn’t quite room in my life for one unmotivated, sloth-like loser let alone two.

The fourth date was a repeat of boy one. I absolutely had to go see Posh Josh’s band in town so we agreed to curry on Brick Lane followed by a bit of mathematic noise. Obviously we only got as far as curry on Brick Lane. But some kissing on the way home made up for not seeing the band.

Date Four is another boy yet to be named. Boy One has gone on holiday for a week so why not? I suggested we met up and went to an arts night remaking the Jaws film. I was about an hour late. Not entirely my fault as my new workaholic boss made me stay an extra half hour and then my train broke down. I was also a bit side tracked by not being able to find beachwear that was suitable to wear on a date i.e. not flesh flashing. I was hoping to be a background girl screaming “argh shark!” in a comedy horror manner. I ended up donning a ginger beard and saying something inane like “you’re going to ignore this problem til it swims up and bites you on the arse!” Absinthe and champagne made it all the less painful. But payback the following day occurred where I was nearly sent for looking like I had swine flu. High temperature? Check. Sickness? Check. Crippling stomach pains? Check. Runny nose, chest pains, sore throat, headache? Check all = must be swine flu. Well, no. Its just severe hay fever and a severe hangover. Although two weeks off work would be rather lovely….