The first date

Having recently broken up with a bf I had for 4 years, the thought of dating was daunting. Whilst I had no problems with drunken kisses on dodgy dance floors, I did hold a great apprehension for getting to know somebody again.

I did, however, put my big girl panties on and agreed to a date with A- a Greek guy with fairly good kissing skills, and whilst under the influence, rather charming (yes, we met in a club: reserve judgments of my character if you will).

He suggested a dinner, which I transformed into drinks instead. The idea of dinners daunt me; they can be time consuming, run the risk of being stiff, they’re far too formal for my liking and finally, can I order my favourite dish that is on the pricier side?

Anyway, the night arrived (a random Tuesday that we both managed to make time for). I was dressed in a little black dress with gorgeous flat pumps (his height was equal to mine- gosh, being tall does present a wardrobe problem from time to time especially for a heels-loving girl).

The night began well, he picked me up from my place and opened the car door. Agreeing to a popular bar in the area we ordered our respective drinks (mine being a delectable strawberry cocktail of sorts and his a soda and gin). After some pleasant conversation (and a few good kisses) he suddenly ordered tequila…for himself? Then paid in a rush (gentlemanly of him to pick up the bill, I suppose), got me into the car and drove to a block of flats, informing me that his parents were away.

Now do keep in mind, it was my first date after a serious break up and I was somewhat startled by his abruptness, I told him to forget the flat and to take me home ( I was rather huffy, with arms crossed and staring out of the window, avoiding all glances).

Now, while I was no expert in the dating field, I am most certain the following segment is an unusual occurrence and if not, I’ve been out of the game far too long. While stopping at a robot (for non South African residents I believe it’s called a traffic light) Alex started fidgeting, and with a look over my shoulder, he had taken his pants down and exposed his penis…what did he expect me to do, reenact the wolf of wallstreet opening scene? Comment on size? Applaud? Break out into song? …instead I carried on my stance of arms crossed and eyes firmly fixed through my window… The silence was unbreakable.

As he dropped me off at home (penis still exposed…and untouched by myself, in case you were wondering) I opened the car door myself (I guess chivalry died half way through the night, if not sooner) I couldn’t help wondering, am I ready to be single?

moo2

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The Dating Dilemmas Of A Fashionista

I’m a fashion student who spends most Saturdays with the girls, sipping chardonnay and sharing gossip and giggles about dates we often comment on being good (or dreadful) enough to write about, so… I thought, why the hell not?

I am a tall, 24 year old blonde (for now), average sized woman,with an incredible talent in meeting men…of all sorts.

Join me, as date by date, I discover the world of the singleton. But before we start keep in mind one thing: I am a spinning mess of my own contradictions and stupidities…and I like it that way.

Welcome to destination unknown.

P.S try not to keep up with names too much…I know I don’t

This is moo, she is the cartoon version of myself - and loves wine :D
This is moo, she is the cartoon version of myself – and loves wine 😀