Last night I was reading this article in the Telegraph about high school romances and how they "lead to low marks and drinking" and I was struck by something. I don't think I ever went on a date at school, ever.
The culture in our school, and those around it, was more that you went to a park on a Friday night in a huge gaggle, armed with Lambrini and 20 Marlboro Lights, necked the booze as quickly as possible, smoked your cigarettes in the most alluring way you could muster and then at about 10 pm you'd partner off into a bush somewhere to get unmasterfully fingered by a spotty oik with too much gel in his hair. THAT was dating at my school.
If you were "lucky" enough to be in a relationship, it had usually came about by a member of the boy's group sidling up to you in the playground and saying, "Paul thinks you're well fit and wants to go out with you, innit,'" with you and your girlfriends collectively swooning at this Casanova's artful approach. You'd then maybe talk to each other in your English class, swap notes in Science and walk home together, snog for about half an hour before then ignoring each other for a full week. Being a teenager is HARD, man!
One particular romantic highlight for me was at our after-prom party, when the 16-year-old me spent the night attached to the face of a friend's older brother, who I thought was literally the HEIGHT of sophistication. It was proper, full-on washing machine snogging, tongues everywhere. Horrendous. It must have looked like we were actually eating each other.
During the period of 19 -21, I had a real run of dating complete weirdos. I think I just gave anyone a shot. You know that old adage, "Throw enough shit at the wall and some of it will stick"? That was me. Flinging shit at every wall.
Therefore, my dating history is littered with the car crashes of nights spent cringing, or trying to think up decent excuses of how to get out of the pub without being murdered.
I once went on a date with a guy I'd gone to college with, and bumped into in the pub when completely bladdered and decided it was a FANTASTIC idea to meet up the next day.
He picked me up and I noticed that every song that played in his car was -- in chronological order -- the playlist of favorite songs I had posted on my Facebook about 6 months previously. Coincidence? I hope so. We went to a pub and had the most awkward lunch ever, as he kept dropping into conversation things that he'd obviously read on my Facebook page and it made me think maybe he was a bit stabby and potentially wanted to fashion a dress out my skin or something equally sassy. Not a winner.
Maybe one of the least successful evenings of my relationship history was a "date" I went on with Evil Matt.
We met on a night out and got on like a house on fire -- we were inseparable all night, sparks flew, we went home together and spent the night. As he drove me home the next morning -- through the back roads, natch -- he told me he had a girlfriend of THREE YEARS -- after he had specifically told me he was single all the way through the evening.
Not only that, but his girlfriend found out, dumped him and then proceeded to attempt to make my life hell for the next year by screaming "SLAAAAGGG!" at me whenever she saw me in the pub, which was nice. EUGH EVIL MATT. The worst bit was I carried on sleeping with him for about 6 months! If I could go back and tell the 19-year-old me off, I would. No self-respect.
I remember a date I went on after being chased down the road on my way to work by an older guy with a walking stick. A stick not because he needed one, but because he thought it made him look jaunty (he admitted that. SRLSY). He chased me down the road to ask me out and because I was a needy little girl desperate for love and affection I said yes against my better judgment, despite one of his opening lines being, "What's you favorite smell? I like the smell of cut grass in the morning."
He took me to a Chinese restaurant that used to be a bingo hall and ordered a bottle of wine and then sent it back and ordered another, and then sent THAT ONE back because it was "muck." I was 20 and would have been happy with a pint of snakebite. He was rude to the waiting staff and actually snapped his fingers when he wanted something. He also spent the whole time telling me how successful he was and how much money he had, which made my fanny snap shut like a bulldog clip. We did NOT date again.
Somehow, I miraculously managed to claw it back on meeting my boyfriend at 21, and we went on some truly awesome dates. My time had finally come! The photo below was taken on one of the first. ALL CLASS.
Have you got any particularly standout horrendous dates? Ever thought you were on the brink of being murdered? Did you continue to shag a bloke who was terrible to you time and time again? Share in the comments! It's super cathartic!
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