She says, by @pols80:
My immediate reaction to this was to think that my ideal first date would be one where the other person doesn’t turn up. That’s what marriage and three children does to you, you see. It makes you lock yourself in the loo with a cuppa and a Penguin while you dream of just half an hour’s peace from All The Damn Talking.
It’s been a long time since I went on a first date. I remember dates though, vaguely. They’re fun. They usually involve laughing and flirting and wine and maybe even *whispers* holding hands and a peck on the cheek. They also reduce me to a nervous, babbling wreck because I’m a bit socially inept. So rather than ideals, I have a list of “ideally nots”…
1. Food. A first date MUST NOT INVOLVE FOOD. So much potential for food related disasters. There’s the classic ‘spinach in the teeth’ scenario. Then there’s the fact that I am Clumsy McKlutz. I went on a date once where, in leaning forward to save spilling curry down my white top, I managed to dip both boobs right in the curry. It was like something from a Carry On movie, except Barbara Windsor never had bhuna sauce dripping from her bosom. Plus, you can’t talk AND eat at the same time, which leads me on to…
2. Silence. I can’t cope with silence. It makes me nervous, and when I’m nervous I say STUPID THINGS. I went on a first date once where we got chatting about music. Bingo! Common ground. Except we got chatting about one particular band who my date was really in to. So, keen to make a good impression, I gushed about how I’d love to see them live. It was an uncomfortable moment when he explained that they’d actually split up several years previously. Yes, silence must be avoided at all costs.
3. Brightly lit pubs. Seriously guys, if I’d wanted my date to see what I actually look like, I’d have arranged to meet him in daylight hours. Stop with all the bright, sparkly lights and give us back dull and dingy. It saves me casing the joint looking for a table under a light with a missing bulb.
4. Activities. A first date must not involve anything that could be construed as remotely competitive. Bowling? Forget it. I am what’s known as a Very Bad Loser, and there ain’t nothing attractive about Huffy Pols.
If you can successfully negotiate all those first date minefields, you’re sorted. Until it all starts again on the second date (or, if it all went badly wrong, you have to go on another first date…)
He says, by @adadcalledspen:
“Hello. Sorry, bit late.”
“It’s fine. You’re worth waiting for.”
“Yeah but two hours? I’d have done one by now”
“I’m assuming the traffic on the M69 was crap. Didn’t think you’d got abducted by aliens. Drink?”
“Usually. Stops me from dehydrating. What’re we drinking? And would you not have worried if I had got abducted by aliens? Fucking men.”
“Reckon the aliens would hand you back quickly. I know they’re supposed to be intelligent life forms but not sure they could keep up with you. ‘Sup to you. Whatever you want to drink. Babycham?”
“Do they do cocktails? Screaming orgasm? Slow comfortable screw against the wall?”
“Sure. But what do you want to drink?”
“Funny. Doofus. Wine would be good. And some Quavers, I’m starving.”
“Want some food? Sommat more than Quavers? They do that posh bread, vinegar, oil thing here.”
“Who eats that?”
“Erm. Me? Sometimes?”
“I know. Quavers and a large glass of Blue Nun then?”
“Yeah. Sounds good. But if you bring me Blue Nun I WILL kill you while you sleep. Just so’s you know.”
“That’s okay. I sleep with one eye open anyway. Just to be safe.”
“Green beaker on the bedside table?”
“Of course. Always.”
“Good. Like a man with a responsible attitude towards hygiene.”
“Plus. You could always take YOUR false teeth out and keep them in the beaker, so it’s a win win really.”
He stands to go to the bar. He looks into her eyes and leans forward. They kiss. Softly, slowly, and their surroundings disappear. Everything melts away. The world slides away as their lips touch, and part.
The kiss ends and they look at each other. They smile. Him shyly, and her so the room lights up. To him at least.
“Hello you. By the way, there isn’t an M69, so get your mind out the gutter boy. Now. Where’s that fucking drink you were going to buy me?”
And it goes on like that. All night.
Thanks for reading and thanks once again to @Pols80 for being the new voice of She Said.
So. What’s your ideal first date? Or your not so ideal first date? Or the WORST date you’ve ever had. Please share stories, experiences, dreams and fantasy scenarios in our comments garden. Sharing is good right?