Sunday, 29 March 2015

Mr Dog Lover


You know it's the sign of a bad date, when the best part is coming home to a chocolate hobnob and your fluffy slippers. You know it's a horribly hilarious date, when the best part is looking forward to blogging about it.

Mr Dog Lover had promise. He was hench - the body building type of hench that makes me swoon. He had tattoos, and for some reason I find this strangely attractive nowadays - don't judge me. He had a good job, appeared to dress well (according to his photo's) and was 8 years older than me, with a good level of maturity. For the previous ten days his messages had been consistent, spelt well and with equal amounts of questions and answers which helped to prolong the conversation. Last night was our first (and only) date.

We were meeting at a pub in my hometown, a lively bar with a good atmosphere. He was waiting outside for me and my first impression was one of feeling very, very pleased for myself. He was undeniably a hottie. Okay, his actual height didn't match with his profile declared 5"11, but in heels he was only slightly shorter than me. He was so easy on the eye that I didn't care that much.

The first alarm bell sounded by the time we sat down with our first drinks (him with diet coke and me with a G&T). He wasn't camp, but his personality didn't match his macho image. At all. He was very feminine. It was such a contrast to his image that I felt a bit off kilter, and swiftly downed my G&T trying to find my foundations again.

Now, I'm a chatterbox. I talk a lot. A LOT. But this guy talked at me for most of the night, not even about anything interesting. He was a maths teacher and he talked a lot about that. At one point I tried to lighten the mood and explain that maths wasn't my strong point, and I couldn't even tell him what pi meant (chortle, to which he wasn't amused). He tried to start explaining it, and when I questioned (in a light hearted way) whether he was teaching me maths on our date, and whether he would get cross if I still didn't understand pi at the end (because it was unlikely I would), his reply was to tell me that he would indeed be cross if I didn't even take the opportunity to listen. I felt like I was at school, and swiftly shut up, sat back and let him explain, like a scolded schoolgirl. And i hated school. He then told me how much pi excited him, and showed me his tattoo of it in dedication to his passion. This dude loved maths so much he had it tattooed on him. The pi symbol. That is just plain weird.

The next big faux-pas he made was when he asked about my son, and what qualities he had that I found endearing. I don't really like to mix talking about my son and being on a date, especially in the beginning, but I told him that my son is a little genius, funny, happy and always smiling. His response was to show me more pictures of his prized dog (he had sent me quite a few pictures before our meeting) and liken her endearing qualities to that of my son. I was so amused/insulted that he could liken my son to his dog that I had to swallow my drink before I spat it out laughing. I should have taken the hint at how obsessed he was with his dog when I initially noted one of his profile pictures was with with said companion. This dog came up in conversation a lot through the night, he even told me that when he walks her in the rain, he holds the umbrella over her rather than himself, and he buys her clothes. Lots of them. He even told me about her toilet habits when they go for walks. If I hadn't have needed to drive myself home, I would have drowned my sorrows into a shot of anything strong by this point.

The next thing was his life story. Which isn't a bad thing, but he clearly hadn't heard of oversharing. I felt like his therapist! He told me he hadn't dated anyone until the last 3/4 years and was a virgin until then as well. TMI Mr Dog Lover, TMI. Luckily he carried on talking about his twenties and how 'awful' they were - he was addicted to the gym and looking good and lost all his friends, he had a job he hated and didn't know what career path to take and he watched "his father treat his mother badly because he was so insecure she was having an affair". Now generally, I would feel sorry for the last one, but the way he said it was almost condescending. He analysed his parents marriage with no real experience of his own and then told me they were on holiday for a month at present. He told me how much he missed them, and said sometimes he really missed them (hinting he would cry)....More Gin needed. Every person he told me about, had something wrong with them - they did cocaine, they were an alcoholic, they were bad with money etc. I started to worry what label he would give me by the time he moved on to someone else...'single mother with glazed eyes who couldn't even feign interest after two hours of being talked at'?

He was also insulted by the loud noise in the bar (It wasn't loud) and looked so uncomfortable I took my cue graciously and asked him if he wanted to leave. He did. I was relieved. He wanted to go to another bar, but I pointed in the direction of my car and made it clear that wasn't going to happen. As I turned round to say goodbye, he took me totally by surprise and took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was so surprised I don't think I reacted at all. What part of my non-talking, smiling, nodding and glazed expression all night had given him the indication I wanted him to kiss me?! He told me he wanted to see me again and would text me. I was still in a state of shock from the blindside kiss that I mumbled something that probably wasn't even english, and walked to the car.

Mr Dog Lover is a maths loving, dog adoring, feminine drama queen. But he was the hottest guy i've been on a date with, ever. And he was an amazing kisser. Dammit.

Just when I contemplated seeing him again on the basis that I could stare at his muscles and zone out to his voice, I remembered something... He told me about his quest for this year - to wear a different suit and tie combination to work every day, without ever duplicating (so he had nearly 50 suits, 80 ties and 15 pairs of shoes) and he was making a collage to show the years worth of outfits in photographs. He even had a system of putting the used clothes to the back of the rail to "avoid mistakes and outfit cross contamination".

Indeed, no matter how much I loved his muscles, I can't date someone who does this for fun. FUN.

Thank goodness for my gym membership - muscle views on tap, without the maths or dog chat at the same time.

I do however understand pi a little bit now.

Date Rate: 1/10
Share:
© Lady Writes | All rights reserved.
Blogger Template Developed by pipdig