'Plenty Of Fish' (POF) First (and last)Date

16/11/2011

Apologies my lovely POF (Pleny of fish....dating website ...for the uninitiated) chums....for i have been neglecting you over the past week or so.

The reason? Well even though I absolutely, positively, totally and utterly had no intention of doing so....i went on a date!   Yes, I know, I know, I said at least six months of abstinence....but I went ahead and fell head over heels for Mr Right, kinda!

However, I think the fact that I turned up to my first date dressed in a filthy, paint, tile cement and bathroom sealant covered, boiler suit topped off with my Sister’s 1980’s wedding veil may have put him off somewhat (like they say “you never get a second chance to make a first impression”). Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those mad desperate women who want to get hitched come hell or high water, quite the contrary, I’ve managed to successfully avoid that institution thus far.

                                                                 G-Clamp Bouquet

So, armed with an IKEA bag full of ‘normal’ clothes I set off from Solihull to Nuneaton in all my boilersuited-wedding-veiled glory,  waving at the odd stunned motorist as I tootled by. I did at one point dust off my equity card and perform the distraught,  crazed,  jilted bride whilst waiting at a red light, lots of crocodile tears, head  pounding and flailing of arms...an Oscar winning performance I thought....however, lights turned green and my intended audience in the outside lane sped off leaving more rubber than is burnt off at the starting line of Brands Hatch....I’m  so naughty, but couldn’t resist.

 When I arrived at the door he opened it to the sight of me throwing a handful of rice (uncooked) over my head and shouting “ello”....it was a touching scene....he , resplendent  in dinner jacket and winning smile,  a little stunned, proceeded to hug me notwithstanding the filthy boilersuit (paint well dried by this time, thankfully)

I stood in the hallway of an immaculate house....lordy,surely a DIY king....hence my smittenness (made up word) I couldn’t go mooching around the place in a debris- flaking  boilersuit so decided to remove it...to reveal the next surprise.....my aforementioned (to him) “pulling Pyjamas”.....a fetching pair,  in blue winceyette,  adorned with penguins wearing santa hats....elastic gone at the waist, held up with a hairband to avoid my blushes.....how could they fail to melt his heart?

 Couldn’t decide whether he was impressed or in fear of his life....so decided to ditch the PJs and go onto the next layer....a sure fire winner I thought....my old school netball kit, chuffed to bits I can still get in it at 44 (high five that woman!) ...pleated black gym skirt, tee shirt and a bib with “GA” emblazoned on the front and back (“Goal Attack” for the uninitiated...the playing position for the lanky types) ..... the whole look completed with the addition of a  blue, metal, pin badge, bearing the legend  “I Y boys”

......I was now suitably attired for a guided tour of all DIY delights.....and heavens they were numerous and impressive....how I love a man who knows his bow saws  from his spokeshaves.. ......but the Pièce de résistance was out in the garden...... the shed.....well I say shed...it was a proper, built-to-house-spec,  Adonis of a shed.....I could have actually lived in it, and in fact, asked him what he’d charge for rent.  It had a proper UPVC front door no less....could this get any better?.....oh yes it could...carpeted !.... AND containing every power tool and DIY implement known to man, had I died and gone to heaven?....sadly not.

 So then,....he’s funny, intelligent, is a DIY god, is as tall as me, we get on like a house on fire....so what happened I hear you cry? Why am I still on a dating website?  ...well, what happened was the second ......and final date......gutted!

Moral of the story....don’t appear at a man’s front door on a first date dressed like a plasterer’s apprentice on the way to a Hen do and expect him to think you are normal.....because clearly,  you’re not!