The progression of ‘No Sex, No City’ has thus far led to a few unexpected consequences. The first of these is that people have now started coming to me for dating advice. I would have thought that the briefest of skim-reads of any of my posts would very quickly emphasise just how unqualified I am to provide any sort of insight into successful dating. The only advice I have been able to offer so far is that under no circumstances should anyone follow my lead! The second consequence has been far more enjoyable: people now feel the need to empathise by sharing the tales of their own terrible dates with me. This is not only reassuring, suggesting that my amazing ability to attract dire dates is no reflection of something intrinsically wrong with me, but it also provides some variation and diversity for the blog.
This week marks a first as we delve into first dates from the male perspective. A good friend of mine, whom we shall call Tom, is currently in a similar predicament to mine. Based in rural Derbyshire, both date locations and companions are rather thin on the ground. In an attempt to rectify their bachelor status, twelve guys decided to organise a BYOG dinner - Bring Your Own Girl. When the evening came, only three of them had actually managed to source members of the opposite sex. Tom had failed altogether but was pleasantly surprised when he recognised one of the three girls. In a by-gone age, Tom had once spent a rapturous evening in Emily’s warm embrace. This romantic encounter had taken place under the canopy of a twenty quid tent, accompanied by the haunting, yet ironically relatable melodies of Scouting for Girls during a post-GCSE trip to V Festival.
Tom held back as his fellow singletons preened and peacocked in front of their female guest. He chuckled to himself as not one but three of his comrades were rebuffed upon their tentative attempts to ask Emily out. His patience paid off and the following day he was rewarded with a message. It was only once the time and place of the date had been set that I received a phone call. The date was half an hour away from home: did that mean he couldn’t drink? Was it rude not to drink on a date? Could he even make it through a date without drinking? Apparently the answer to that final question was no, so Tom arranged to stay with a nearby friend - thus avoiding both the drinking conundrum and having to explain where he was actually going to his parents.
As it transpired, Tom’s well-laid plans were not required. In fact, as the evening progressed, it looked like it was more than just plans that were going to get laid…Emily asked Tom if he would like to stay at her’s. WOOHOO! BINGO! SUCCESS! CONVERSION! Alas, sailing was not as plain as Tom had hoped. Emily still lives with her parents. Going back to her’s therefore also meant being introduced to Mum, Dad, and their plethora of pets. In the early hours of the morning, when Tom had rather hoped things would be well under way with his lucky lady, he was instead drinking prosecco and eating stilton with his prospective mother-in-law. I suppose the plus side is that if this relationship does progress, the awkward parent meeting moment has been dealt with early doors.
Doors: that was the next issue, bedroom doors to be precise. When Tom finally managed to escape the parental inquisition, he headed upstairs with Emily. He was now faced with a choice: to the left stood a door to the exile that was the spare room, to the right: the entrance to the chamber of secrets (i.e. Emily’s bedroom). Having made it this far in the Derbyshire equivalent of Takeshi’s Castle, Tom rated his chances and took a running jump at the right hand door. Success! He made it in. His trials were not over, however. Emily had a camp bed. I can proudly report that Tom was not going to admit defeat that easily and as the lights went out he could be found gallantly playing the bigger role in the metaphorical cutlery draw that was Emily’s bed.
Alas, this is where young Tom’s luck ran out and he was unable to get as much as a smooch out of Emily. I tried to argue that this could only be seen as a good thing. No one introduces a guy to their parents on a first date but refuses to snog him unless they are in it for the long run. In the short run though, Tom had to make it through breakfast. It was admittedly rather unfortunate that Tom bumped into PG Bae’s father on the landing as he tried to skulk out of her room unnoticed. To add insult injury; not only had Tom failed to make it onto, let alone passed first base, he then had to speed-eat under Father-of-Bae’s stare which was far more frosty than the cereal in front of him. Father-of-Bae was under the misconception that Tom had raced past first base and scored a home run. If only! Tom bade his farewells as quickly as he could and ran for a home of his own!
Although he may have fallen at the last hurdle, I have high hopes for Tom (who I now consider a sort of prodigy of mine). He is planning on inviting Emily over for dinner, not only will this reciprocate the compliment/challenge of introducing her to the parents, but will also remove the drink-driving issue from the equation completely. Good luck, young Tom. Watch this space…