August 18, 2014 - Written by: Yazmin Joy

How to Lose a Girl on One Date: A First Date Story

(This article was first published on the 7th May 2012)

This is a first date story.

For about eight months (after my ex-boyfriend and I broke up) I had accessorized my upside-down-smile face with this rather elegant (metaphorical) ‘F***k OFF I am mourning the death of my last relationship – I hate men’ sign. But one very ordinary day something strange happened. For months I had awoken from the solace of dreaming to cruel, cruel, singleton reality. This excruciatingly depressing sinking feeling in my gut just screamed. Why oh why must I endure another day of this lonely torrent swirling like a twister in the depths of my forsaken soooul!??’ Breakups are hard, right? But this particular morning I awoke to an unexpected tingly sensation in my chest. Could it be?

Was my heart was beginning to feel again?

Had the time come for me wrap up this one-chick pity party and leave my festering pile of emotional debris behind me? I proceeded to put on some knickers (knickers are for people with places to go and people to see) and I proudly paraded into the front room. ‘Eureka!’ I exclaimed. ‘I think I can see light at the end of the tunnel!’ Literally few days later, I was at a house party and I met this extremely hot guy. We had the same interests. Excellent. I felt instantly attracted to him. He gave me his business card and as I was leaving the party we grabbed each other’s hands in a Brief Encounter style moment and he warmly gushed: ‘It was lovely to meet you’. Ah classic.

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I Check His Credentials.

The next day I checked out his website. This guy was a talent! I emailed him and next thing I know he asked for my number and we were texting. It was all happening so fast. The following day he asked me out on a date. Whoa whoa whoa! A date? I hadn’t been on a first date for over four years. Was it too sooooon? I graciously said YES, of course. I mean it would just be rude to turn the poor hot guy down. Despite being incredibly excited there were a few things that were bothering me. Although I was flattered and thrilled to be dating again I was sort of freaking out.

You see, I always like to think of a first date as a bit like performing on stage.

First, there’s the building up of anticipation, nerves and adrenaline. Then there’s the preparation; the waxing, shaving, plucking, selection of attire. You basically get this one shot to show the other person all the charismatic qualities that make you so damn desirable, while at the same time craftily concealing all of your negative, irritating idiosyncrasies (like being wildly obsessive with cashew nuts and sticking my fallen hair to the shower room wall). The only problem is in the moments leading up to this incredible debut you unfortunately must endure what can only be described as pure and utter TORTURE!! But, as I discovered, the impression you make is only one half of the first date anxiety.

What about the person you are going on a date with?

Just think about the situation rationally Yaz ol gal. Of course this meant coffee with the girls and a vigorous analysis of the situation at hand.

During this discussion the following stood out as points of concern/in need of further investigation:

Exhibit A:

Apparently at this house party he had offered my friend LSD. Was this a joke? OR was he secretly a drug dealer?

Exhibit B:

He did say something to me about vintage porn. Is this appropriate? Maybe he was just joking around? OR maybe he was in the illegal sex trade??

Exhibit C:

Is he a player? He had a lot of female friends judging by his Facebook. Harmless? OR he has an STD????? As it turns out the discussion wasn’t very helpful.

Oh great. I am going on a date with a drug dealing pimp with Chlamydia!

You can see how my thoughts just snowballed.

When the big day finally came around I actually thought I was going to hurl I was so anxious. Hot guy and I were going to go for casual drinks followed by the cinema. What could go wrong? ‘Keep your phone on because that way the police can track you down if you go missing,’ my flatmate piped up. How reassuring, I thought.

I was like a crusader embarking on a new voyage of discovery. I was Dorothy on the yellow brick road…

First Date

So there I was. Outfit carefully selected to look like I had not made too much effort even though it had involved two days of vigorous planning. My legs were freshly waxed, my hair pristinely styled, the smell of Miss Dior wafting as I paced up and down my hallway waiting for the text message telling me he was outside. I felt like running away, and usually I’m pretty head strong and grounded. What was wrong with me? Suddenly my phone lit up. He had arrived.

A Night to Remember…

So the evening kicked off as we sat in the bar with our drinks and happily chatted away. O wait a tick, correction, he happily chatted away. For about an hour. He just went… on… and … on… and… on… Dear me, it wasn’t half painful. He told me he was writing a book, and a film, and he was busy running his own company and walking his dog and looking after his sick Grandma and inventing a cure for teenage acne… Okay may have made the last bits up but the guy was self-obsessed. No joke. I was literally on a date with Narcissus. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. ‘I’m very opinionated’, he declared before telling me that he didn’t think there was anything wrong with men asking women they didn’t know for sex. Lovely. Nothing like a bit of casual sexism on a first date hey. ‘Oh look. An hour has past already. Time flies,’ he exclaimed, without a hint of irony.

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As he took our glasses back to the bar I commended him for his good manners saying light-heartedly – ‘That’s very impressive bar etiquette’ To which he replied knowingly: ‘I used to work in a bar.’ ‘Oh me too,’ I said. ‘Yeah I’ve done a lot.’ ‘I have done a lot of bar work too.’ I expressed enthusiastically. ‘NO!’ he said, correcting me in an offended tone, ‘I mean I’ve done a lot in my LIFE.’ At this point I feel it necessary to interject HE’S ONLY TWENTY-FOUR PEOPLE!

In the cinema things only got worse…

There I was, sweet and innocent me, just minding my own business about to watch a riveting motion picture with this dashing young man. Phew, I thought, an activity in which he won’t be able to talk to me. Unfortunately as soon as this thought entered my mind a 70 ft advert for COCK RINGS blazed on the screen before me in all its pride and decadence. I just slurped my drink and pretended not to notice the vibrating condom parading in film format in front of me. It would all be fine so long as… ‘My mates really into those’ my date chimed pointing to the phallus in front of us. ‘But I don’t see the fascination. I guess you don’t need them when you’re good at sex.’ But that wasn’t the end…

During the film he moved in close and whispered: ‘I can tell by your body language you like me.’ Who was this dude? Freud?!?! Okay so I know you’re going to think I am crazy when I tell you this but I invited him back to my place for a cup of tea! IDIOT – I hear you call at your computer screen. Yes I am an idiot. I just wasn’t thinking straight.

Back at my place…

Being the ignoramus that I am, I totally didn’t know that tea was code for sex. I know I’m an idiot but you gotta cut me some slack! I hadn’t been on a date for FOUR years. Besides, who doesn’t like Camomile and Spiced Apple with a squeeze of honey??

He recites poetry.

The guy recited me a piece of spoken word he had written on loneliness and desolation. It was based on some sob story about when his girlfriend left him in Thailand right before he caught malaria. I mean, I didn’t know quite where to look, which was increasingly awkward because he had adopted this slightly disconcerting immersive theatre style recital technique in which he insisted in looking right into my eyes. After his performance, I lied and said it was really good. Didn’t want to hurt his feelings now, did I? I guess art is all subjective after all.

He sings me a song.

Then he said: ‘You said you write songs? Oh play me something?’ I secretly did want to show off my exceptional musical talent so I went to my keyboard and played this heart wrenching love ballad that I had written after my big break up. After the big key change and the final chorus, I faded out, closing my eyes. I was totally lost in the moment maaan! I then turned around expecting some kind of applause or at least commendation – after all it was only polite – I had clapped for his poem. But instead I turned to find him looking about my room absentmindedly. ‘So…What did ya think?’ Shrugging his shoulders – as if I had done something unremarkable like slice a loaf of bread. ‘Not bad’. Then he took up my guitar and I kid you not, played me a song he had written about…

Wait for it…

WANKING!!!!!

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After my personal, intimate, emotionally infused performance in which I pretty much excavated the depths of human emotion through the power and force of song… I get a tune about jerking off!?? I guess it was supposed to be a harmless tongue-in-cheek little ditty. Only it was about a homeless man outside the supermarket pleasuring himself. It was so wrong on so many levels. When would a wanking song ever be acceptable on a first date?!?! I mean was I being punished here? I am still in shock.

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Now promise you won’t judge me buuuut we ended up making-out. He was hot okay! First date in four years remember. But two seconds in he had his hand up my skirt. Woah woah woah! I’m just not that kind of girl okay. That was it. His time was up. That was when I kicked him out of my apartment.

So that was the tale of the first date I went on after my big breakup.

The truth of the matter is that that night wasn’t just about getting to know someone new or potentially starting a new relationship. It was about taking a step forward as a singleton! A singleton who no longer cried herself to sleep or got drunk and re-enacted the death scene of Romeo and Juliet on a snooker table. A singleton who revelled in her freedom and who was independent and content with the cards she had been dealt.