Lesson Learnt...Thorpe Park through his eyes...

From what I had picked up over the past few dates...number 5 was a proclaimed internet geek.  He was a walking encyclopedia about the world of websites and had an abundance of knowledge and experience into how to maximise their potential - could he have come at a better time? I decided I would cleverly carry out some discreet fishing for my blog's benefit, so over dinner I moved onto the topic of building websites and blogs...

Intrigued as to why I was so inquisitive about his line of work, which is usually the last topic of conversation anyone wants to discuss...he started fishing himself...and I started to squirm. #girlcantlie

After much probing I brushed over it admitting I had a blog- about fitness.  I was pretty confident he would never find it because 1. it didn't actually exist, 2. it wasn't in any way linked to my name, 3. we weren't friends on Facebook.

Needless to say the next morning I received a message that he was dedicating his day in pursuit of my blog. Great.  I wished him good luck and went back to my bus journey.  

I am going to say it was no longer than 5 minutes before I received the following: 

Yes....he definitely was.  Crap. He wasn't a geek, he was a genius and there was absolutely nothing I could do from the upper deck of the number 14.  My mind went blank but I started mentally sifting through my blog - I was pretty sure I hadn't given him any bad press?  

I burst into the office and immediately logged on to re-read what number 5 was undoubtedly already reading.  Even if it wasn't bad press,  he was about to get to know me on a whole different level.......It is safe to say I had had a shocker. 

All credit to the guy he took it relatively well but obviously there was a few questions that had to be answered and I think he wished he had rather not read it.

Now he knew about it what on earth was I going to do? My dating career had been scuppered because he would now have access to my every move.  A decision had to be made...it was game over for my blog...or for him. I really had out done myself this time as I was actually enjoying dating him, it had been a lot of fun.  

I racked my brains how I could make the best out of a bad situation and for those of you who know me, I often push my luck...so there was only one thing for it...I had to ask him to give you his version of Thorpe Park...and he agreed.

Post event when I informed him the reason for my disappearing was due to Cystitis, he admitted that he had to google it as could only assume I had just told him I had an STD. I was pretty confident his version of events would make a good read.  

So here you have it, all credit to the guy he has even added pictures

Thorpe Park through the eyes of date number 5...

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I’m 30 years old, it’s the wrong side of 8.00am on a Sunday morning, and my alarm is going off.

I’m getting up at 7.50am on a Sunday to go to Thorpe Park and I’m going there with a girl I met on the internet. Who I met for the first time 3 days ago, and who I’d spent a grand total of 4 hours with.  1 of which, was spent trying to subtly look at her boobs while trying to figure out what the implications of Gareth Bale signing for Real Madrid would have on my fantasy football team.

This is what happens when you download tinder, a dating app I reluctantly downloaded, following assurances from friends that it would be an Eden of normal hot single women.

Having exchanged a few entertaining messages with what I hoped was a hot blonde girl but being the internet, realised could just as easily be a middle aged sex offender on day release, I hesitantly agreed to go on first date.

I picked an appropriate venue; close to my house to minimise the thinking time just in case she got drunk and offered it up, not too pricey the cries of sexual equality go very quiet when a bill arrives and relatively casual start too big then it’s going to hurt if you have to up the stakes for date 2 and 3.

When she walked in, I was met with both relief, she wasn’t a middle aged man carrying a roll of plastic sheeting and handkerchief of chlorophyll, and a hint of excitement, she was unquestionably hot. Up until this point I had been harboring concerns that she might not look like her pictures which, refreshingly weren’t from a shopping centre “modeling studio” where she got some professional photos taken with a voucher she and her mates got off groupon.  Better still she actually resembled her photos. Photo’s that unlike every other girl on Tinder, weren’t of herself in massive sunglasses from a holiday 2 years ago, back when they had blonder hair and a tan - all with questionable instagram filters applied.

As first dates go it was good.  She didn’t cry, she didn’t drone on about some menial job, and she didn’t regale me with painful stories about how she knows a z list celebrity that gets her into clubs. Consequently when it came to picking up the bill I wasn’t filled with resentment – I’d actually had a good time.

When I got home, conscious that as a girl, she would undoubtedly be plagued with insecurities, I text her to let her know that I’d had indeed had a good time and that I would like to go out again. And after a series of texts we agreed to a second date, which despite the anxiety that accompanies any form of social commitment, was actually something I was pleasantly looking forward to. The next text put pay to that congenial feeling of anticipation when I read the words “fancy doing something Sunday day”?

Several things instantly come to mind when the prospect of a ‘day date’ arises:

1. It pretty much removes any prospect of sex…

2. Alcohol will play a limited part, reaffirming point 1 but also meaning I will not be able to rely on this to provide me with a personality.

3. I’m going to have to think of something good to do, something that includes a distraction incase the conversation starts to thin out.

Following a solid 2 hours googling different variations of “day dates London”, thinking I had rescued what had the potential be a horrendous event, I put forward my suggestion: seeing off the start of the round the world yacht race – the rationale being I would come across as sporty, original and a member of the elite yachting social scene.

This turned out to be a pointless exercise as she had seemingly mistaken me for a 17 year old A-level student and had decided that Thorpe Park would be a good idea… I mean who doesn’t want to spend their Sunday queuing alongside 16 kids all called Kayden only to get violently thrown around for 3 minutes whilst hoping today is not the day that one of the thousands of moving parts responsible for preventing a painful death, malfunctions.

So back to the morning of the date. Before the situation in hand has fully had time to register, I’m greeted with a text informing me that she’s “not feeling 100%”. Great, any distant hope of sex has now completely disappeared.

 and furthermore she has effectively just informed me that she was going to spend the day whining about a hangover.

Despite the text, I picked her up. Skillfully navigating the awkward 1^st phone call with an eloquent yet casual “hey, I’m outside”. The door opens and a flicker of hope breaks through the mounting sense of impending disaster as I’m reminded that she is indeed very hot and I realise that she’s wearing a white dress. White dress + water rides = see- through clothing.

This is the ‘tough mudder’ of dates. An endurance event, interspersed with obstacles and topped off with the threat of injury.

The first obstacle was to overcome the 40 minute car drive, throughout which we needed to try and maintain a comfortable level of conversation, while she subconsciously scrutinizes my driving and simultaneously tries to value my car to decide if I can support her financially.

First obstacle done, we reach the park, and thankfully conversation flowed nicely. I’m almost at the point where I’m finding myself having a good time. Whilst queuing one of the main activities at Thorpe Park amongst the poorly modified hatchbacks with oversized exhausts, she announces she will “meet me in there” before jumping out of the car and disappearing into the crowds of single parents and their 4.3 children.

At this point, I’m slightly concerned, I put the potential reasons for this sudden and dramatic departure to the very darkest corner of mind, I decided to put this down to my powerful sexual presence – it must be too much for her.

Having found a space amongst the lines of 14 year old Impreza’s and Honda civics and having momentarily questioned wearing moccasins when every other person had seemingly gone for tracksuit and trainers, I found her, and we made our way into the park.

                               

The next 4 hours were a cycle of; trying to hold on to some form of masculinity whilst being catapulted through the air, upside down, at unnatural speeds.

Ensued by waiting outside a loo for 10 minutes thinking about anything other than what was going on.

Mercifully, having now not eaten for nearly 6 hours, this cycle was temporarily interrupted when we stopped for lunch.

This break offered the opportunity to take stock, and despite the location, the constant loo breaks and having being deprived of nutrition for a quarter of a day - I was actually having a good time, and even starting to think ahead to the prospect of a third date.

After lunch we both seemed to relax and having recovered from the uncomfortable revelation that I might not be the best bloke she’d ever met, we seemed to both enjoy the afternoon together.

By the time we were outside her house at the end of the day I had accepted the fact that I’d had a really good time and that momentarily I allowed myself to enjoy this feeling before immediately turning to a more natural state of anxiety when I realised… how do you follow this with a 3^rd date.

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Thorpe Park - Number 5 - Date #2

Another thing you don’t know about me is that my body has a tendency to malfunction at the most inappropriate of moments.  And no I don’t mean I woke up on Sunday morning having a bad hair day or with a huge spot, that I could have lived with. 

I woke up early on Sunday morning feeling excited for the prospect of my second date, and feeling pretty smug about my epic suggestion that had gone down so well. So I popped to the bathroom for a morning wee admittedly dying for a pee before I would start getting ready and that’s when it hit me…no I couldn’t have…….but I think I might…….don’t do this to me today…oh god it was relentless…I HAD CYSTITIS.

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Forethought: Cystitis and rollacoasters?

You have to be kidding me…all my smugness turned to fear.  For those of you have had or are prone to cystitis will reason that a theme park could possibly be the worst place to have this bladder problem…and I thought having it during exams in the first year of uni was bad enough. #nightmare

I didn’t know what to do because I knew it wasn’t going to let up any time soon...but I really didn’t want to cancel this date.  I was in a state of sheer panic, I now have 1.5 hours to decide… I get ready or cancel…I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I jumped in the bath, whilst downing copious amounts of water and green tea, and sent out an SOS to the friend jury.

The jury was in but I got mixed reviews …there was a categorical ‘you cannot go’, there was a ‘its mind over matter’ and there was my mother …“You have to tell him you have an infection.”  Surprisingly I decided not to proceed with the latter. 

Can you imagine receiving that from a potential date? All charm and sexiness would go immediately out the window. I would just like to run the synonyms of infection by you…

• Disease           
• Virus
• Bug                   
• Contagion
• Contamination

…which were all words I had no desire to associate myself or my urethra with.

Still splashing around in the bath I now only had 45 minutes to decide what to do and my tummy was so full and heavy from all the water I had consumed, I am surprised I hadn't drowned. I wouldn't be that lucky.

By the time I faffed around with phone calls and loo breaks, and had sat on the sofa pretending I was in a car to test if sitting down for a period of time would be that bad, and if I could assume a natural position as well as pacing around my flat to see how I would hold up walking …I now had 30 minutes to get ready, and was peeing every 5.  

              

                                 

Curling my hair to pretend it was natural had gone completely out the window so I made the best out of a bad situation and chucked on my make up and a pretty summery dress.  I dropped him a quick text to say I wasn’t feeling 100% but was still up for Thorpe Park famous last words.  Luckily I was ready when he rang to say he was outside but I was so hot and flustered it took me 5 minutes to pluck up the courage to leave the loo and walk out the door.

I had to go with it, it was too late so I quickly pee’d for a 25^th time that morning and ran out the house having words with myself….Mind over matter…mind over matter.

 I wish I could express to you the sheer panic that was in my bones as I stepped into his car….it was possibly one of the worst situations of my life.

Pretty impressed with myself - I had made the 40 minute car journey seamlessly, I didn’t even flinch and conversation was relatively un awkward. Only 9 hours to go...

We arrived at Thorpe Park…and there was a queue into the car park….I was starting to fidget….uh oh I felt as though I was going to wet myself…and I had drank a lot of water, so there was every possibility that I may wet myself…so I wriggled in my seat for slightly longer assuming the natural positions I had practiced earlier to try alleviate the feeling but my future was clear if I didn't get out his car right now, so I bolted, and said I would meet him at the ticket collection...and off I wiggled to the loo.

It was at this point it suddenly occurred to me that the probability of him thinking I had the shits was quite high…but I couldn’t face trying to have a conversation about it so I left him with his thoughts and met him in the queue.

…and from here on in this is how my day played out....in approximately 15-30 minute intervals…

I thank the lord that I could afford Fast track tickets...

Where has she gone?

First ride...

Running away had crossed my mind...as it probably had his...

Stealth - 0 - 80 MPH in under 2 seconds - a Cystitis dream!

This was getting ridiculous...and so it carried on...

Queue – taking too long

Nip out for a wee

Back in the queue

Really fast ride

Wee

Water break

Wee 

Wee

WEEEEEEE

                           

….and that is how my day continued into the afternoon. I should have considered buying Tenar Lady, at least then I could have just wet myself in the queues and he would have been non the wiser.

It was slightly exhausting, I was carrying round more water in my bag than a camel but eventually by mid afternoon I had consumed so much and I had marked my territory in every loo in Thorpe Park, the cystitis had started to let up.

Just a little note for anyone who plans on attending Thorpe Park with a date in the near future, take a mirror in your bag... once you have crossed the bridge, take one last big look at yourself ...because there isn't a single mirror in any other loo in the park and I've been in them all...I resorted to applying my make up in a cubicle using my iphone 5 camera whilst my knickers were round my ankles...classy bird.

All credit to the guy he was so lovely and every time was patiently waiting outside the loos…I was dying with embarrassment but just tried to ignore my disappearing acts and carry on, and to be fair me going off course between rides became second nature by the afternoon.

Overall the day was a success, apart from the obvious, it actually wasn't awkward at all and the main thing was I didn't wet myself.  I had just endured 10 hours of cystitis with a guy I had met once and still managed to bag a third date - I think I deserve a medal.

He messaged to say I had set the bar high with my second date suggestion but that he has come up with an appropriate 3rd date venue that will work in my favor because it has low level lighting.  

You have got to give it to the guy, he is tolerant and funny.  


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My Fifth Tinder Date

Tinder Date Number 5 – Date One

I was having a bit of a shocker on the day of this date...I was in one of those girly predicaments where by my leg hair had reached the stage when it was no longer acceptable to wear dresses  in public but the hairs were not yet at a length where it was justifiable to pay for a wax. 

But realising my summer date outfit options were being severely limited by my gorilla legs, and given my current body fat percentage, didn’t allow for jeans without muffin top, I sucked it up and decided to pay out. 

Unfortunately I am not one of the girls who go for a wax and it goes unnoticed, no no, I look like I stole my legs from the poultry section in Sainsbury.  

but luckily for me by the time I got home and had applied copious amounts of tea tree, my skin looked relatively normal and less like they belonged seasoned in your oven.  

I had initially started chatting to date number 5 whilst I was on holiday with a friend in Spain.  Luckily for me Tinder hadn't picked up that I had left the country and I was still fishing for men in the UK, but unfortunately for my single friend, Tinder had registered she was no longer on British soil and her pickings were limited to Fernandos, Juans, and Sergios - Mega LOLs.

Number 5's  profile photo was the kind of picture that I would upload- one of those photos that you believe depicts you as a fun-loving person, but your mother would never put in a frame. 

He was 30 years old, looked like he could be entertaining, had the ability to dress well, he only had clothes on in 2/5 of his photos, and was a man of reasonable stature…all 6’5” of him. 

I was quite looking forward to date number 5 as his messages had tickled me, although after the last 4 Tinder experiences, my expectations had lowered considerably and I was well aware I had resorted to a man with topless photos on his profile.  My only real concern was that he may be slightly ginger and I couldn't see his teeth.

I arrived at date destination number 5, to see the man that was actually a lot better looking in person, I dread to think what they all think of me, and not only was he 6’5” but he was what one could only describe as a unit.  Admittedly I had noticed in his photos that his biceps resembled similar to that of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and my favourite Kiwi friend had passed remark that she thought his mother had fed him creatine from birth but I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask on our first date. 

Conversation flowed from the start and there was no sign of the awkward sweats. Result.  I was in sheer amazement – was this a normal date? 

One thing was for sure it was worlds apart from my other dates, who were a bunch of helmets*.

*I would just like to exempt number 3 from this labelling, who was actually a lovely guy and incidentally has asked me out again. For ease of evaluation we shall call him Mr Tequila from here on in.

The evening ended well and the next day number 5 invited me to do something on my weekend. I only really had my Sunday free so I gave it to him… then two things occurred to me following this suggestion…

1. Did I really want this guy to see me in broad day light on our second date?                                  Visually I look better after dusk/in low level lighting or in the dark.

2. What do you do on a day date with a guy you have only met once?!

I personally didn’t want to sit around drinking and eating in usual date fashion and thought we needed something more original for our second date especially if it was going to be during the day.  Being slightly ridiculous and thinking he would potentially go for it, only one thing kept popping into my head...so I went ahead and suggested Thorpe Park……….to a 6’5”………30 year old...

Even the logo looks childish

I realise I had willingly put myself into a potentially very awkward situation…10 hours with a guy I had only met once before…was this Bold or stupid? Some may say courageous.

I knew I was getting myself into a situation that had the potential to go so terribly wrong but not in the way I every imagined it would….it was so so much worse.

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