So last night was ‘Date’ night, with a handsome stranger who stuck to his title of being ‘handsome’ and well ‘strange.’ I asked him out, i took him to dinner. For me it wasn’t really about a ‘love’ thing. I just wanted someone to ‘food’ with and he seemed the perfect candy for my hungry little eyes. I’m gonna call him ‘Sweet Cheeks.’ (Winky wink.)
Okay, so when i met ‘Sweet Cheeks’ earlier in the day, (whilst he was shirtless jogging) he was quite confident and cocky. (Ooh-er.) He seemed like a playful talker and like he’d be a good person to ‘clink’ glasses full of spirit with. I thought the date would be no problem, until i turned up on his doorstep looking like the sexy neighbour you’d want to shag. The door swung open, in 2 seconds flat, he turned into a quivering wreck. His cheeks kept going puffy and red. And with a puzzled faced, i stood on his doorstep (like a Pussycat Doll reject) and watched him fumble around in merry circles for about 15 minutes? I’m not keen of fumblers. I like precision. I was sort of thinking, ‘Did i really waste my fake bake tan on this excuse of a hero?’ But i did the polite thing and totally pretended to be having the best time ever. (Ooh hang on ‘Latin Lover’ is phoning me. Get IN there!!)
Anyway, ‘Sweet Cheeks’ finally found what he was looking for…which turned out to be nothing (waste of my time) and we strutted on our merry way to one of my favourite local restuarants. Let me just say, it is not good to tell me off for ‘swearing’ on our journey to a ‘Good time.’ It really just makes me swear more. Swearing makes ‘Good times’ better. Infact, it’s probably not good to tell me off for anything, within the first 40 minutes of knowing Me. I turn all ‘rebel without a cause’ and start ruining your life, in heels. He kept telling me i was ‘better than that.’ I kept pretending to mis-hear him and say ‘What? Better than YOU. Aww…don’t say that. Just cos i’ve been on the telly doesn’t make me better than you.’ (Hahaha!)
Dinner was good-ish. He was shy and quiet the whole way through it. (Yawn.) It was littered with awkward pauses and thankfully the best wine ever. Every so often, and out of nowhere, he’d say ‘i can’t believe i’m here with you.’ I’d be shocked that he could actually talk. I mean there’s being a good listener, but he just took it too far. There was NO talking…just listenning. I was actually thinking, i’m probably gonna have to get him trashed or give him drugs, so he dares to speak. He was all shakey bakey and refused to put a cocktail umbrella in his hair. At one point i wanted to slap him.
Then before dessert and after continuous moans by me saying ‘You’re not very chatty. I hate not very chatty people.’ He then decides he’s going to talk. Unfortunately for him, he does the ‘Guess My Age’ game. FUCKING HELL! Do you guys just not know how to go on dates?? This is not date talk. I DESPISE the ‘Guess My Age’ game. It takes too long and i always think the boy is trying to fish for compliments. I hate that. It’s a sign of weakness and ofcourse makes me want to make you feel bad about yourself. (I’m a natural bully. Some call it a talent.) I guess a ‘really old’ number, after a few pathetic ‘Oh i don’t know’s? He gets upset, but pretends he’s fine as he stares into his half eaten creme brulee. I’m now PISSING myself out loud and telling him to lighten up.
He then morphs into the HAPPIEST MAN in the world EVER and starts being really excited about everything??? I’m not sure if the wine just hit him, or whether he’s mentally ill? He kept yelling at the piano player and telling him to play ‘Fly me to the moon.’ I now get jealous and think he’s attempting to steal my limelight. Y’know, out ‘pimp me. (Haha!) I was actually really jealous. So i stand up and start swaying, and miming the words to shit songs, with a yellow cocktail umbrella in my hair. He then gets up grabs me and starts trying to ‘slow dance’ with me. I hate being jerked around my clumsy dancers. He’s all happy, i’m all moany and being pushed into uncomplimentary positions, for the sake of ‘slow dance.’
Luckily he starts frantically sneezing and i get to say ‘he has SWINE FLU.’ Not sure why, but he thinks i’ve taken it too far and gets pissed off. (HAHAHAHA!) Long story short, we get home. He tries to have sex with me. I shun him with a ‘tonight wasn’t about that’ line. Lol. And i get to go home, chastity belt still in tact. (Well it was a bit falling off…but still in tact.)
I’m in love with ‘Latin lover.’ (And i guess i don’t need anymore bad dates to prove it to myself.)