34 Minutes Pt 2

I don’t use an iPhone for games, am way too sophisticated for that. I use my iPhone to checkout distances between locations. You know like how many k’s to the next pub, how many k’s to my last ex's place from ‘current location’, how many k’s between my last ex and my next ex. That kind of thing.  Really pertinent stuff.

After 34 minutes of iPhone and vodka tricks, one can become quite flappable. Luckily my date finally sauntered in with some sexy black evening gown and heels. I felt way underdressed in my jeans and country-girl shirt (a recent style I was trialling with large success).

I ordered Ms ‘34 Minutes’ a drink and watched her settle into a bar stool awkwardly, anxiously fumble with her purse and drop it. I tried to calm her by offering a playful jest like “You were 19 minutes late”. Her cross-eyed stare back conveyed pretty plainly we didn’t have a similar sense of humour. So my next strategy was to get her to talk (fortunately much easier). All I had to do was release inquisitive directives in her periphery at timely intervals and employ my sincerest listening face.

3 hours later she took a breath and declared “wow you are really interesting” which I found extraordinary. I let her know I was weary by setting free a wide yawn and simultaneously scraping my chair heavily.

After that she stalked me with a few private messages on PinkSofa.com, which I politely responded to (website etiquette), but when she started repeating herself it became easier to file her interruptions into a new file labelled “Be Wary – Date Shows Signs Of Dementia”.

34 Minutes Pt 1

I am going to rest the Lightning Lilly saga because I am semi-traumatised from having to relive it through this key pad for the past few entries. There is really only one more moment worth capturing anyway, the one explaining her name. Saving it for later, so build a clichéd miniature bridge and get over it.

This is a tale about a very recent date I had.

Special Note 5: You can expect my current dating experiences to demonstrate a more sensible approach in so far as candidate suitability, alcohol requirements and distance travelled.

We commenced chatting on Pink Sofa only because she was hugely impressed by my insightfully scripted bio (after 10 years on the site you reckon I would know a thing or two about how to reel the ladies in and I don’t mind saying that I do when I want to). She was quirky enough to entertain me, which seems to be enough these days (now that I have stretched my lesbian dating gamut).

As already stated, I am much more judicious in the bout of seeking love these days. A reduction of travel (for me) intended for a first date from 15, 000 miles (it only took 5 years of experimentation to realise it wasn’t terribly economical) to under a mile. So now I expect her to come to me. If I had invested in properties with the same tenacity that I have invested into dating, I would have at least 4 investment chattels, a house on the lake and a mountain cabin. 

I made her drive from the ‘hills’ to my coastal dwelling after she finished work for the day. To me that shows commitment.

Eww, did I really say that word? ‘Commitment’.  It even tastes wrong.

Some things about my dating repertoire never change, no matter how wise I get. I still arrive at least 15 minutes earlier than the arranged time. It really sucks when your date then arrives 19 minutes late. Which she did. Let me tell you I can drink quite a few vodkas in 30 minutes, especially when the only distraction is a downy muffin top bar chap. That’s right, a guy with man hips. And whilst that was fascinating so far from a circus, it is unbecoming to stare.

So I got drunk and played on my iPhone instead.

To Be Continued..