I had just arrived in London on a 2 year working trip… missing summer and missing home I begrudgingly agreed to be set up on a blind date.
It couldn’t hurt, why not I thought. Besides I didn’t know many people in London.
My door bell rang right on time. 7pm. Slightly terrified at what was going to be behind the door to greet me, I opened it.
There standing before me was a pale, tall, semi balding looking specimen. Somewhat oversized. Not oversized in a rugged hansome type of way more of a chubby cheek, man boob kind of way.
But what the heck… I had already agreed and I couldn’t back out the oversized man was standing in my doorway… so I smiled politely, shut the door behind me and off we went.
We walked to his vehicle.. a gold champagne coloured Porsche, Boxster. At this stage I wasn’t sure whether to run for my life or quickly get into the car in the hope no one would see me. So God help me, I got in.
Oversized Frank ( my date) was so smooth, he insisted we drive with the roof down… let me remind you, November in London is bloody FREEZING!!! But oh no Frank didn’t care, he was happy to show of his near balding head to the gawking pedestrians.
In spite of been absolutely and utterly embarrassed and just plain freezing, I smiled and politely pretended like I thought he was uber cool for driving a gold coloured convertible in minus 5 degrees.
We arrived at dinner… and things went from bad to worse.
During the main course, Frank managed to spill a glass of red wine which splattered all over my white, very cute, very expensive top. I laughed it off, inside I was screaming… I wanted to leave. Conversation had dried up an hour ago and we were on to the topic of ‘who was your childhood sweetheart’… I mean seriously we were hitting it off.
We skipped desert and got the bill. I always offer to pay. So I did. AND I kid you not he said “lets go halves”…
We walked out to the gold car. He offered to drive me home.. A tempting offer (not!?!), but politely declined and said I would jump in a cab instead to save him the hassle.
He leant in for the kiss… on the lips. (SERIOUSLY!?!?!) I mean what planet was this Martian from.
The next day I got a text. it read ” Hi sweetie , nice to meet you, sorry about the wine spill, dinner Saturday night?”
I said “Hi Frank, Thanks for dinner, you’re great but I just got out of a relationship and not really wanting to date at the moment. If anything changes I will let you know”
He said ” Potato head, no problems, call me if you are ever up for a good time😉 ”
And with the memory I would take with me for eternity …being called a Potato head, I deleted his number and never looked back.
Todays Dating Tips:
Don’t ride in a convertible in winter
Don’t ever ride in a gold porsche
Blind dates are dangerous
Some men think it’s ok to call a woman ‘potato head’
If you have an outrageous dating story let us know!
Culled from http://thedatingdiaries.org/2012/12/