Your worst blind date-----------Ever

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Rod924, Jul 5, 2005.

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  1. Rod924

    Rod924 LE Reviewer

    I was told about a potential Mrs 924 No3 by a colleague - same age, ex semi pro tennis player, just returning to the UK after several years teaching tennis in the Cannaries, brown shoulder length hair, 5' 2", good figure - would I be interested? What the hell, why not.

    Wheels in motion, bla bla, eventually colleague gives me her number so that I can introduce myself and see where we go from there. Eventually call her, sounds quite husky, intelligent and husky. She lives local, very local and has a Samoid dog.

    This is all too good. Working from home one day, I notice this absolute VOL walking her dog. The dog is a Samoid, and I know that there are not that many in the area. The walker is about 5'2", brown shoulder length hair, fit as fcuk figure (obviously, me thinks, from all that tennis) and is clad in norks hugging T-shirt, and mini skirt showing off tanned legs (obviously, ok you know where I am going).

    It must be her? I can't wait to call that evening and arrange an RV. Of course, I am too shrewd to ask her ' were you walking your dog today wearing......' as that would look as though I was spying! The RV is arranged for the following night, Friday, at one of my locals. The weather is great and therefore, maximum possibility of her needing to wear a mini skirt and a top without norks restrainers.

    I get in the shower, for the second time that day, and resist with all my might the need to knock one out, as I feel lucky, and need to keep as much man fat in my sacks in order to impress her later when the money shot is required. I get dressed, smiling, really looking forward to what is in store in three zero minutes. Tonight, is going to be great.

    I set off at a brisk pace that is, of course, perfected to see me arrive bang on 5 minutes before RV. She has informed me that she will be driving and that her car is a Ford Focus. 3 minutes past the hour, a Focus enters the pub car park and drive around the back to park. THIS IS IT!!!!! I wait, slobbering, grinning and the vision that will appear.......
    Click, clack of heels is heard and then she appears. A fcuking 5'2",size 14, legs on upside down, munter, who looks as though she has had too many nights on white litening and park benches...........FCUK! I still have to be polite so I by her a drink and look for a place where NO ONE will see me/us...... Sadly, there is nowhere that is totally isolated, therefore, there are couples around us, and all I want to do is write 'ARE WE FCUK A COUPLE' on me napper.

    I am apoplectic with despair that my illusions have been so cruelly been dashed. Needless to say, after two drinks (now that was going beyond the call of duty), I make my excuses and leave.

    Blind dates? there for cnuts!
  2. RTFQ


    :D :D :D :D :D

    What's a VOL. And more importantly, why didn't you tell us the truth? You know you scuttled her.

    Just remember, your mates set you up with women they think will suit you - get set up with munters? You're a munter.

    I used to get set up with lookers, because my mates thought I had the personality to overcome my trigger-like hideousness. That's worse, believe me, no-one can hide the look of dissapointment when they meet me for the first time. It's even better when you're fecking them later and you can see their confusion and subconscious self-loathing because they're sure that the woman they were 6 hours ago would be disgusted at what they're doing now.

    Thank feck for bacardi breezers and jokes about fat people. ;)
  3. Rod924

    Rod924 LE Reviewer


    LOL, top response, as per norm. For the record. It was not a mate, but a female colleague, who did not know me that well and thought that I, like you no doubt, look for personality, first!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    VOL, BTW = Vision of loveliness
  4. Mr_Fingerz

    Mr_Fingerz LE Book Reviewer

    VOL=Vision Of Lovliness
  5. RTFQ


    While we're on the subject, here's an interesting and revealing game I play with my mates' wives:

    You're sat in the pub listening to how she's just bought a new Tuscan Kitchen or how young baby tarquin coughed up his first sticklebrick. Wait until the conversation gets round how you are still single and all that bollox. Lever the converstaion onto the women in the bar. Get talking about how attractive or not some of them may be. Select some at random and get her to grade them out of 10, not as a lesbian, obviously, but as if she were a man (women can't think like anything other than a woman). When she's finished grading them, get her to choose one that she'd think would suit you.

    This is useful for the following reasons:

    1. The "My female friend thinks we'd be good together" line works well about 5-10 minutes into chatting someone up.

    2. It tells you at what grade the married friend puts you (if she marks a girl as 7 then says you'd suit her, you're a 7 too). Not only can you get a consensus across your female friends as to where you stand in the pecking order (thus knowing when you need to up your game when playing the division above), it also lets you know the kind of women they'll set you up on blind dates with. If they reckon your only a 5 or 6, don't bother asking them to set you up.

    Simple really. Oh and it also lets you know if she's likely to sh@g you when they get a divorce ten years down the line, and if she's a closet lesbian. These things are useful to know.
  6. Rod924 - did you identify who the bird with the dog earlier on was?

    I hope so! After all, you've been seen out with her, you may as well get the most out of it before you never see her again.
  7. Rod924

    Rod924 LE Reviewer


    Sadly, yes I have seen the original VOL several times since. Infact, she walked passed the other day! Lucky for me she did not look up at my office (front bedroom on the left) window as she would have seen a slobbering window licker trying to tug his scud though his trouser pocket - Hey, it saves on using a sock and is very useful in sticking change together!!! Hence, reason for the post.

    And for the last time, I did NOT have sex with that woman....seriously I did not, and was also wise enough to avoid going in that public house for several months after the event. I would have stabbed her in her front bottom with my mutton dagger if her legs were on the right way up/down and 9 pints of image changing juice

    RTFQ - your advice, wisdom and methodolgy are superb, especially building up the pipeline of future potential 'midnight texting' dates!
  8. Was invited by a friend to a BBQ where some eligible tottie was to be ' found '.. met one girl, long blonde hair, I think.. what a narcissistic, slef-centred person.. All she could talk about was herself.. running about shouting " Help Me.. Save Me.. My Hair's On Fire!!. Put Me Out.. Oh, My Hair!!.. Help Me!"

    selfish, really.. too much..
  9. Actually. I recall a serious incident back in my antedeluvian days..Year 6 BGP [ Before the Good Padre ]...I had been in a serious relationship with a young woman and we came to that point where we disagreed over some trifle: " If you truly loved me you wouldn't let them send you there for so long. " " What about my needs?" ....

    well, my good friends, in trying to restore my shattered emotions, used the bicycle theory - if you fall off, get right back on again - and set about fixing me up with a series of ' available ' ladies..

    One day they approached me with " You'll love her! ".. " She's extraordinary, she's incredible! " etc, etc.. points for none of them saying " she's got a great personality "...

    Well, long story short, we met for a light dinner out.. She was incredible.. she had a figure like Angelina in Laura Croft with out the padding, she was Pam Anderson without the edible oil products, and she dressed to fully exploit these assets...the reason.?

    She had a humungous honker.. I'm not talking W.C. Fields after years of the bottle, or Michael Jackson before rhinoplasty.. not even Barbra Striesand in profile.. oh, no.. she was.. Pinnochio.. she was a transgenered Cyrano!...

    IT was incredible, IT was extraodinary...It was Mount Rushmore in North by Northwest..the culmination of the plot...

    Now, normally, I try to avoid staring into a women's cleavage, but I had to find somewhere else to focus or I'd be fixated on the schnozz to the exclusion of all else.. I lived in fear that she'd ask the waiter to put some pepper on her penne and he'd twist that huge mill causing a Mt. Vesuvius eruption that would blow me and the salad bar out of the restaurant..

    I couldn't help it.. I kept thinking that if she had to blow it would be like a whale breeching.. Tantor screaming as he rushed to help Tarzan out of a tight fix...The mournful sonority of the Longpoint lighthouse warning ships at sea...

    I came to realize why she had dressed so provocatively.. This was a conscious effort to distract people from perusing her proboscis..trying to have an intelligent conversation while minimizing eye contact made my head swim.. I couldn't look her in they eyes, the shadow cast by the Washington monument was too deep..

    somehowe we made it through the food and went on to the cinema where, thankfully I could avoid the nasal dreadnaught in the dark...

    The rest of the evening passed quite well, actually, she was vivacious, intelligent, a good conversationalist, and, if I kept my attention elsewhere or my eyes closed at opportune moments, I could manage things.. No doubt she must have thought me ' serious' as I always seemed to be deep in thought, eyes closed, as I formulated a response to her questions..

    Finally, we drew up at her home and, I panicked.. she was making all the right moves to offering a ' good night ' kiss.. My mind started firing like a Cray computer running the permutations on how to angle my head to avoid my crashing into the jetty thrusting out into the harbour..

    after long moments of hesitation, I managed to make it ' under the radar ' and plant one [ though it caused my neck to crack audibly as I shifted hard a port ]..

    the relationship ended without some huge embarrassment, thankfully...
    we did go out a couple of times again and I will evening she definitely gave new meaning to the term: " nose job "....
  10. I’ve been on 3 blind dates, 2 of which were good fun & I’m friends with the guys. The 3rd one (which was actually the 1st and should have put me off them for life) was surreal to say the least.

    A work colleague (who is now a very good friend, although at the time she didn’t know me all that well) decided that I and her bezzer male pal would be perfect for each other, so talked me into meeting up with him. I’m a pretty easy-going person so agreed to meet up with him. We exchanged a few emails in the few days running-up to the date and he called me the morning of D-Day to confirm where & when I’d be meeting him. He seemed perfectly normal during all of our communication and I’d seen a photo so knew not to expect an Adonis, but I quite like imperfect men (I know, I know, all men are, by their very definition, perfect… :roll:) so was open minded about it. Anyhow, the arrangement was to meet at the bar of a restaurant in Canary Wharf at 1930hrs. I turned up on time to find him waiting for me at the bar. Immediately I knew that I didn’t fancy him, but wasn’t going to be so rude as to leg it there and then, also as he was my mate’s bezzer I figured he must have a cracking personality so we’d probably have a laugh. We had a couple of drinks at the bar – me on voddy, him on soda water. Now, I’m rather extrovert, talk lots and rather quickly and wave my hands around like a loon, but Mark was making me look subtle & reserved. If he’d been drinking I’d have put it down to that, but all through our meal he remained on soda water. We got through dinner ok, no ‘spark’ crept up on me, but there were no awkward silences due to Mark’s motor-mouth. The reason for that was revealed to me as we walked to the taxi-stand: he confessed that he’d been so nervous about meeting me that he’d taken a half-day, gone round to a mate’s place & smoked joints all afternoon, but then when it came to 1700ish he realised he was too stoned so had done a couple of lines of coke and then a couple more during the ‘loo breaks’ he’d had during dinner! Even if I’d fancied him that revelation would have been an immediate turn-off, so we said our goodbye, never to speak again, although I was told he’d wanted positive feedback from my pal in order to get the green-light to call me!!
  11. Blind dates..................*shudder*................*1000 yard stare*.........

    I have only been on one blind date and that was one too many. It took place in the early 1990s but I still wake from screaming nightmares about it. I was very, very hesitant about going on this date in the first place. We all know the horror stories about an absolute colostomy bag turning up and you have been told he is sex on legs by your well meaning, albeit 'dead next time I see them' friends whom have set you up, in the most literal meaning of the words. Then you have to be charming and polite to the person and not stab yourself with salad forks as an excuse to leave early.

    My friends felt I had been recalcitrant in not going out socialising more and going out on dates. I would rather inhale street pizza whilst wearing a gimp suit than go out with people for the sake of it. They knew that all too well but they decided I needed to meet this 'chap' they knew whom was in IT. He was supposedly "just my type" - older, 6'3, well built, dark brown eyes, enjoyed rugby. They kept it up for several weeks until it got to the point I said

    "If you mention this again I will suture your mouth and nose shut and give you rectal fluids."

    "Go on what have you got to lose he's nice and he's loaded." (Death knell as far as I am concerned if you have to use their salary or rank as a bait they are even more dire than imaginable.)

    "If I do this will you shut up, never do this again and leave me in peace so I don't have to dismember you?"


    *huge sigh from me*

    "Ok show me his picture."

    "Oh I don't have a picture of him anyways you don't need that he's a lovely guy. We told him all about you and showed him that picture of you in uniform. He liked it. He's funny as well. He has a great personality. His last girlfriend left him for another woman."

    Oh great ugly and emotionally crippled. Cannot wait....

    The day - as I refused point blank to waste an evening - rolls around. I have agreed to attend a BBQ-pool party at which he will be present and be presented to me. I felt this was more than enough and allowed me (or indeed him should he be equally as horrified) to escape easily and with dignity. I get there and there are a few people I knew that I had not seen in a while so it did not seem a total waste of time. My "friends" attempted to get me to have a few drinks and go for a swim. That rang alarm bells. I was intending to see him in cold light of sobriety and I was not going to be in a bikini that is for damn sure!

    He turns up late, which was fine as I was already engrossed in conversation with a few people about PNG. I got nudged in the ribs by one of my mates, I say nudged I mean almost had my lung punctured.

    "He's here!" she hissed.

    "That's nice.......anyway no I don't agree more aid will do much to............would you stop poking me in the ribs or I'll slap you in a minute."

    I make my excuses to the group for my sudden departure as I am being dragged off to meet R. I will call him R as I refuse to use his name at present. I have been trying to block the entire event from my mind, for reasons which will become clear soon enough.

    "R this is Miz...Miz this is R."
    *hand shake* (reasonably firm, not clammy, not clingy - 7/10)
    *polite hello exchanged*

    R did not actually look too bad. He was as they described him, tall etc. He was remotely funny and did not seem to be a shambling mong in conversation. Was this proof of the existence of small miracles? He was charming and polite and quite gentlemanly as well. Did the door and the chair thing without prompting and got me a soft drink, again without prompting. Chatted away with him whilst attempting to ignore the moronic, cheesy smiles and over emphatic nodding from my friends.

    Afternoon wore on and I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. This was not the worst thing I had ever let someone talk me into I though to myself. I was even considering saying yes if he asked to see me again. I decided to allow him to get me a proper drink and that seemed to be some sort of cue for my friends to come over and drag me off for an impromptu update/debrief. They got fack all information off me because, well, I did not feel like giving a blow by blow account of anything to them. Bloody women!

    I returned to find a drink waiting for me and him halfway through a second beer - empty bottle next to his chair was still showing condensation. I did not worry about that as I would normally have had a few drinks myself usually by that time at a BBQ. He then skolled that beer, excused himself and returned with two more which he polished off in a few gulps, at which point I remember thinking "well at least he can drink like a man". Famous last words. The evening went downhill from there as he continued drinking.

    During dinner, as I went to sit down, he grabbed me round the waist and plonked me on his lap stating loudly "I'm the only chair you need tonight." After attemtpting to disentangle myself, unsuccessfully (he was deceptively strong and my first thought of jabbing a steak knife into his arm may not have been seen as a reasonable reaction by a plod afterwards) and staring daggers at my friends who were smiling wanly, he continued to behave most crassly. The wandering hands were relatively easily deflected by immobilising his arm by accidently crushing it between a chair arm and the wall or reminding him of his meal/drink. The conversation however was harder to stop, despite someone turning up the music to drown his comments about what "he was planning to do to me after he got me into bed later" and telling him "NO, fcuk off" repeatedly.

    My friends refused to come within arms reach of me. I tried cornering one of them in the kitchen to beat the cr@p out of them but instead he took this as a sign I wanted "to get to know him better in private" and after bear hugging me tried kissing me. That got him a glass of water in the face....which he seemed to take as some kind of a come on as he mumbled something about "Oh so you like it kinky" 8O He decided taking his shirt off when dancing after dinner was also a good idea then he tried to liberate mine, even though I was not dancing or speaking to him by this stage. That earned him a knee in the gonads. He went down but still failed to get the hint. At this point I told my friends I was leaving, was no longer speaking to them and if I saw them in the street again they should run, picked up my car keys and stalked off.

    Worst bit? They gave him my mobile phone number and for several months he kept pestering me on and off till I threatened to send some of the lads around to say hello.

    Blind dates......don't talk to me about blind dates.......
  12. Cutaway

    Cutaway LE Reviewer

    This is the present Mr Miz then I take it ?
  13. Jesus, mizkrissi, that gives me flashbacks to a similar mercy-date.

    The guy that a well-meaning male chum set me up with, back when I was working 11 hours a day and would only be able to meet a man if he accidentally wandered into my office...

    Whose nickname, "Chief," had nothing to do with his ethnicity or occupation, as I found out later — it was due to the fact that he was famous for liking the firewater a bit too much...

    Who, when I excused myself to the restroom (with the notion of crawling out the window — second-story drop, big deal) announced to my friend and his lovely wife and all the surrounding tables that "I'm gonna take her home and fcuk her." And then drain my third martini as well as his ninth vodka-rocks...

    It's all too horrible to contemplate. But as I washed his vomit off my car door that night, I thought about how my friends had told me he was perfect for me.

    And I wondered: what do my friends really think about me?? 8O

  14. Feck off Cuts :lol:

    Mr Miz and I met through mil channels. He grabbed me from my bassinet, threw me over his shoulder and carried me off. All very traditional and romantic...