Dating #1

As most of my friends know, I am perpetually single and surrounded by couples who all happen to be my best friends. I love them dearly and very rarely do I get that icky “I’m holding my own hand while sitting in a room where everyone’s holding someone else’s” feeling. Anyway, I digress. My whole point was once upon a time five-ever ago I used to date people! I had real life boyfriends once that I didn’t meet on the internet! This story is not about any of those rather disappointing souls. This story is about someone I did meet on the internet, on a site called Ok Cupid and our ensuing very short relationship – this shall be a two part post because both ridiculous things are too much for one post. I want to spread them out.

So in order to protect namely me, let’s call him by not his actual name. His initials were S.C so let’s go with that for now. S.C messaged me and we arranged to go out for a drink, he came to pick me up in his car and we started talking and things seemed to be going well despite my nervous and shaky disposition (I used to shake when I was nervous/tired/ate too much sugar/excited/angry/hungover, I have since stopped this due to making healthier choices). I asked him what the weirdest date he’d ever had on the website had been (standard question, nice easy intro for funny stories) and he told me about a girl who’s uncle (?) had joined them unannounced and chaperoned the entire date. I remember thinking to myself “how awkward! Well this date shall be a breeze, I’m already doing better. What a weirdo!” Karma for my judgement was coming and it was swift and it was just.

We arrived at the bar he/I picked and he went to go buy us some drinks. I was feeling rather confident and my makeup was phenomenal that evening. Flawless. I was feeeeeeeling myself. We talked some more and had another round of drinks. The bar had filled up considerably, there was hardly any standing room left and I was laughing a lot.

It was around this time I started to feel the urge for a cigarette, I asked him if he smoked and he said he would join me. We went outside and we continued our laughing. I breathed out the smoke I’d just inhaled and it went in my eye. Now, most of you know that this is agonising and a pain in the arse but generally it’s over in a few seconds and you become righted once more, no harm done.

I don’t know if it was my eyelash glue, or a stray piece of dust or what but after I got the smoke in my eye it did not right itself. It got worse. And worse. I tried to play it off but eventually he noticed. Probably due to the fact that my heavy black eyeliner was streaming down my face in rivulets and I looked like a shit impression of a pirate. He asked if I was ok – I said I had something in my eye and he asked if he should help me to the bathroom. I acquiesced, feeling a rising heat in my cheeks. Being led through a busy bar in front of 100 odd people whilst clutching your eye, underneath which black and silver stuff are making interesting journeys on your face, is not an experience I would recommend as enjoyable.

We arrived at the bathroom and he opened the door for me and I threw myself into the mercy of a private area. I stumbled my way over to a mirror above a sink. My eye was still keeping itself firmly shut. I know everyone always says things like “it’s not as bad as you think it is” or “it’s not that noticeable”. It definitely was bad and it was definitely very noticeable. I recoiled in horror at my image. I looked like a member of Kiss after a heavy weekend bender, complete with one closed eye as if from a drunken rockstar brawl. Sadly, I am not this cool. I was amazed he hadn’t run screaming into his car.

Now, I set my mind to fixing it. It had already happened, nothing I could do now etc. I ran my eye under a tap to flush out whatever was gripping grimly to my iris and success! I felt a relief sweep over me and I started to calm down. I now resembled a grubby orphan – black and silver smeared everywhere on one side. No matter though, I always bring my makeup bag. I am that girl – I ALWAYS bring my makeup everywhere.

I reached into my bag and couldn’t feel it at first, a slight hiccup of fear launched in my stomach. No matter, its there I wasjust being silly. My search became a little frantic – I couldn’t find it. Had I left it in his car? Had I left it on a bus somewhere? When had I last had it? Had I lost £300 worth of makeup? And then, memory struck. I had changed bags and left it on my dressing table. I could picture it smugly sitting there, taunting me, telling me “Well if you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t have left me and you wouldn’t be in this mess” much like my parents have been known to say to me (they are right, of course). My heart sank and I was left in utter despair. I tried as best I could to wash the grub off and was left with an odd blotchy grey/green almost iridescent sheen that made me look severely unwell. One side of my face was still beautifully made up, making the contrast more evident. With nothing else to be done I took a deep breath and glumly found my way over to the table where S.C was sitting. I sat down in front of him and attempted a smile. I must commend this man on what he did next. He really tried. He didn’t laugh (at first) he simply said, after physically being taken aback, “I like it. You look futuristic” at which point I believe we both started laughing and continued to drink and then we ended up walking around for three hours looking for his car and I was driven home. Unfathomably he wanted to see me again. I still to this day do not know why and we saw each other a few times after that and then it came time to meet his friends…

But I’ll tell you all about that in part 2.

It is no wonder I am not holding anyone’s hand but my own, to be honest. Thank goodness I have good friends and possibly strangers who will find this even more hilarious than I do.