All you need is... a BOy

Amie

Recently, I bit the bullet and went for my first date with a man I had met online.
In hindsight, it is crystal clear that I panic-picked a man from the somewhat drab selection that my new home city had to offer. In my defence it had been a particularly lonely week, so a night not alone in my flat sounded heavenly.

Or so I thought.

Elusively, he instigated that we meet on a pretty little bridge spanning the river. It did cross my mind, that if we had decided to see each other again and again and possibly for the rest of our lives, this bridge would invoke remarkably happy memories, and could possibly be the location of a proposal? (Too far, too far.) Truth be told, every time I now cross that bridge, I grimace, as I remember THE SMELL.

Good lord, you would have thought that a man in his mid-twenties would know when he smelt. Or would know how to wash. Or would have at least been told by his undeserving friends that he STUNK. (Or would have no friends, due to said smell.) But no. I am the first to say that I am not a wimp when it comes to smells. I don't have a keen sense of smell, or retch at the slightest pong, therefore I knew instantly that this body odour was not normal as my body wanted to heave and vomit on him there and then. I should have walked right past him, across the bridge, as soon as I realised. But, I am such a lovely person that I did not. And the situation worsened.  A few minutes or so into our conversation, he itched his crotch. This vile, disgusting, eye-catching action, he repeated every twenty seconds or so.

It was awful. The only way that I survived the one drink was by listening to his voice. As, in all fairness to the guy, he was Irish. So as long as I stared straight ahead, not looking at him, not breathing in, and just listening to the accent, the date was perfectly lovely. Ish.

Needless to say, as it neared the forty-five minute mark, I could take no more, and blamed my hastened departure on the lack of  buses at that time of night (it was around 8.30).

I have to say, I was a coward and did not get back on the horse after falling off, by which I mean I was completely scarred by the date and put off online dating.
After only one date I had given up all hope. And I still have. Boohoohoo.