Bad First Date

Bad First Date

The following is a genuine email sent from a young professional male to his female friend, after said female friend had set him up on a blind date. The date did not go well, and this email delivers a blow by blow account of the night’s events in real-time.

Dearest Jenny,

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I trust that this email reaches you in good spirits.
Not many people know this, but approximately six months ago, I made a sweeping decision to give up dating indefinitely.
This decision was made following a series of completely dour evenings spent in the company of perfectly nice, genuine ladies whom I had met whilst intoxicated in various establishments throughout this fair city.

Invariably, these ladies turned out to be much less fun (and even less attractive) when I met them in a more sober state. This led to feelings of boredom, frustration and complete indifference whilst in their company. I felt that it was better for all parties that I should call a halt to this bullshit, and stop wasting everybody’s time.

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As you no doubt noticed, I decided to revoke this decision last Friday whilst coming down after an alcohol fuelled Paddy’s day and night. The following ramblings detail the results of this decision and my thoughts for the future.

Apologies for the bullet point format, but you know that I’m a statistician. I’m trained to summarise things in this fashion, and then draw conclusions (plus, my writing skills are weak).Leave the house at 7:30pm.Dublin bike to Dame Street.Pint in the Temple Bar on my own. Take note of large number of hotties in the vicinity.

Receive text from Chloe stating she will be a little late, and asking where to meet me.Tell her that I’ll meet her at the restaurant.Finish pint quickly and walk up to Elephant and Castle.Order bottle of Erdinger, no sign of Chloe.Receive text saying “I’m upstairs“.Ask the waiter if there is an upstairs. He looks at me funny.Turns out the stupid bitch is in Bull and Castle.Ring her and we arrange to meet in Hogan’s. Lamp the bottle of Erdinger and pay.

Meet Chloe in Hogan’s.She looks… ordinary (and that’s being nice).Grey top, black tights, brownish skirt thing and wait, wait for it… boring black flat shoes. Who dresses this bird, seriously?Share Paddy’s day stories. I leave out details of Austrian and Northern birds (I’m clever like that).Talk about work and other stuff. She’s got a proper job anyway, and seems to like it. Kudos for that. Better than someone moaning about hating their job.Take note of numerous hotter birds in the bar.

This was a running theme.Leave Hogan’s after two pints (I’m half flaming at this stage, having lamped the first two drinks with no dinner).Make a comment slagging some foreign chap walking down George’s Street. She laughs at my Borat-style joke – I don’t think she got it to be honest.Starving, so propose that we have food.

Suggest Rick’s Burgers (it was right in front of me), and she agrees (she doesn’t want food anyway, so it doesn’t matter).Murder a chicken burger and chips. She watches.The Quays is hopping. We go in and have another drink. Loads more hot tourists and yuppies there; I make mental note to return next Thursday.Bored out of my mind. This girl is ‘nice’. So f*cking nice, I consider paying her €50 to just make a retard joke, or do anything mad.

She tells me some story about her J1 in San Francisco (WOW, you’ve been to San Fran. Get over it, you didn’t even go to Vegas).Have two or three more drinks, and midnight is fast approaching. I text Tim saying: Date is crap, whr u?Both nearly finished our drinks. She asks what I want to do now?Do a Kerryman on it, and answer her question with a question. 

“You’ve to be up early tomorrow, don’t you?”She says “Yeah, I better go home”.  Yeah, I suppose…Go outside and have token shift. She gets in a taxi, good luck and thanks.Thank God that’s over.Stroll up Grafton, and up to Flannery’s to meet Tim.Ring Maria on the way, and give out to her for saying Chloe was ‘pretty’. Deep down, I know that it was all my own fault.Meet Tim in Flannery’s. He calls me an idiot for even going on the date. I agree. He’s very astute.Two Captain and Coke. Two more.

Two more. I’m having a great time.Meet an ordinary-looking American bird. She says she’s from Jersey.Do my Situation impression, whilst flexing my pecks. She laughs A LOT…

Anyway, I think I’ll leave it at that. I want to save something for the sequel.

To summarize,I’m not going on any more dates with potentially mediocre looking girls. Unless she’s 100%, definitely hot, I’m not going on the date. Period.If a girl says another girl is really ‘pretty’, then run a mile.

If she really was that ‘pretty’, then the girl would have said she was ‘hot’. Simple as that. Actually, a good rule of thumb would be to never ask a girl if another girl is hot or not.If you show up for a date in flat shoes it shows that you are stupid; you clearly know I’m a tall man, so stop making me bend down to talk to you.

It also shows that you’ve made no effort whatsoever to sexy up your outfit and therefore, it’s safe to assume you are a prude. I hope you enjoy this email. Any feedback, comment or thought would be much appreciated.

Yours in romance,
Macca.

The writer does not wish to associate himself with ‘Macca’s’ questionable morals or dating practices. And, before you ask, the writer is not ‘Macca’.

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