One of my best friends met her boyfriend online and I have loads of friends who love to tell the stories of how so-in-so met so-and-so online and now they're married with a dog and nice flat, 2 kids, swimming pool, holiday home in Kent, etc.
So with that false impression and completely unrealistic mentality I logged on to gumtree, where not only can you buy used laced curtains for £.99, but you can find a husband… supposedly.
And since I was only looking for a date I figured I had nothing to lose, and possibly slightly more to gain.
Putting my own profile up never appealed to me. The thought of some old pervert (forgive me) wanking over my photo gave me the creeps. Nevertheless, I posted a nice conservative yet fun picture of myself from a night out and added a little bit about my silly self.
The replies came flooding in! I was shocked! But then I found out that most of them, although funny and personable in their replies, took it a step too far by adding a picture of their penis… yes people… I pretty much downloaded over 10 pictures of male genitalia. I immediately freaked out! As soon as the picture came up I closed and ran away from my computer. After clicking 'open' on the next few files I held my breath and closed one eye fearing that it may harness the next form of Satan on my desktop.
I decided to try my second strategy which was to look at other people's posts and then reply to those. Strangely, there are a lot of Indian princes looking for someone to spend money on. The thought of this did appeal to me. But I soon found out replying to those I just got more genitalia.
I finally found an interesting post from two guys looking for a couple people to chill with - specifically two people that didn't have a 'shed with spares'. I of course had no idea what this meant and felt inquisitive. So I sent over an email.
I'm here looking for someone to chill with too. From what I can see, I have no shed with spares so I believe I fit your criteria. My criteria is quite simple: must not be a serial rapist, extreme killer, fetish happy, fuckwit, dimwit, unemployed, live with parents, poor dental hygiene, poor hygiene in general, or have ever been referred to as a 'weird one' - although that last one is conditional.
Care to have a drink?
It turns out – Dominic – is Irish and loved my joke about the criteria (which had my alarm bells ringing, but I silenced them after I realised I was a bit OTT). He and his friend wanted two ladies to go out to dinner or have drinks with. The 'shed and spares' meant male genitalia of course. And after seeing that they clearly had no intention of sending me risqué attachments, I replied that I have no friends to go out with (at this time most of my friends were already taken) but I'd be happy to go out for a drink or have dinner with you.
Dominic worked in London too so we decided it would be safest (neither of us were quite sure the other wasn't a serial rapist/aggressive killer) to go for a quick after work drink in town.
Ever since I watched The Quiet Man (one of my favourite films) I've wanted to date an Irish man. Don't judge me. I don't know why this strange obsession happened or why after years of it lying dormant in my bones that it manifested into a full blown date with a total stranger… but it did. And I was going on a date with Dominic McIrishsurname.
Okay… before we go any further let's talk a little bit about me. I'm brave. I'm sometimes too bold and should probably keep my mouth shut, but sometimes I am shit-scared. I'm not exaggerating. My mom once put me in a giraffe costume when I was about 11 for the church sing-a-long 'Noah's Arky'. At first I loved this spotted posterboard creation. I slipped on some black spandex pants, put on a zoo t-shirt and persisted to walk around the trees and pretend I was eating them and rubbing my belly. (There are pictures I was that happy about it!). But when I was 11 I was a bit chunky... well... the kids called me 'Tubberware'. So when the time came to go up on stage to sing I stuck my little neck over my head and then high-tailed it out of the church screaming with my long neck slowing me down as the wind caught it. So, no matter how brave I may think I am, I'm easily psyched out and will run at the slightest pinprick of fear.
And now, I agreed to go on this date with a perfect stranger and I am about to get murdered in some back alley of London. I can see it now
'Wow, this is a nice date. Yea, maybe it would be a good idea to go to drinks at this 'quaint little place he knows'.
That's what I was really thinking. That is why I texted (yes, I'm a coward) that I wouldn't be able to make it. I was feeling ill. Then I changed my phone number.
So I never went on that date. I'm so sorry to disappoint my readers, but I just chickened out.
Not to fear though. Dominic comes up again later and it's worth the wait to find out more to this story.