Posted in Archive, March 2016, September

Rushing Out The Door…Dating Disaster Three

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This took place about a month ago. I normally don’t get too nervous on dates; I don’t see the point in getting worked up over them. This was the exception to the rule. My nerves however were not because of the guy I was meeting, but due to the fact he did not know that I was ill. It was the first time I had agreed to a date without informing the guy beforehand that I am a walking talking accident waiting to happen.

Ready for my date

We got off to a great start, sipping cocktails in my favourite bar. The conversation was flowing with ease, we laughed a lot and the odd pause was comfortable. Two hours in I found myself still unable to switch off to the fact he was unaware of my bodies failings. Several drinks later I finally worked up the courage to bring the topic to the table. My words were rushed as I stumbled over a brief synopsis of my conditions, my nerves reaching their peak.

His body language said it all, it was in complete contrast to his words. As I fumbled with my explanation he quickly went from leaning towards me holding my hand, to sitting bolt upright with his hands tightly folded in his lap. I pushed his posture from my mind, telling myself it was probably just due to the slightly uncomfortable nature of the wooden benches we were perched on. A ridiculous thought I know, but it was an easier one to deal with. He muttered a brief acceptance, waving his hands around, reassuring me that it didn’t matter what I had going wrong.

Minutes later, during the first awkward pause of the night, he downed the rest of his drink. Jumping up from the bench, offering to buy another round, he strode off before I could answer. I glanced down into my still half full cocktail, refusing to turn around and watch what I knew was taking place. I may be hopeless at dating but I’m not a fool. Knowing he was rushing out the door I didn’t want to humiliate myself by watching it slam behind him. This isn’t a common reaction, most pretend to be fine with it before cutting off contact, however this is not the first time its has happened. My options where quite obvious I could leave now and head home or I could finish my cocktail alone.

I love cocktails so naturally I stayed and finished it. It may have been an awful date, but hey, why waste a good drink.

Posted in Archive, February 2016, September

Disaster Date 1

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As anyone who checked out my latest VLOG will know, after a highly entertaining bus ride the other week with a fellow spoonie I have decided to blog more openly about the dates I have been on. Up until now I have kept them to myself purely because they didn’t go anywhere, however as this lovely girl pointed out to me, it’s the sort of the thing she would like to read. So I’ve decided to do a couple of blogs retelling these dates – the guy’s names and locations have been changed!

Just before Christmas a guy I’d met a handful of times in the local clubs and around uni asked me for a drink. Thomas knew I was ill, so in my eyes we had already passed the first hurdle. There was going to be no need for an awkward ‘so by the way I have a severely dysfunctional body, you cool with that?’, conversation followed by spluttering and murmured excuses into half-drunk cocktails. I was feeling far more relaxed than I usually would do, simply because I didn’t feel like I had the ‘disability burden’ to get out there.

It was the usual routine, pull every outfit I deemed to be flattering enough to wear on a date from my wardrobe, and then force my friends to pick the winner. It’s a wonder they put up with me really. Whilst I was spending so much time on my appearance, I did not stop to think about strapping down my left arm. The spasms in this arm have been the death blow to so many dates but I still don’t learn. After all, it just isn’t the most attractive look. If I had thought about how twitchy I had been that day I would have seen the disaster in my plan.

The start of the date was fantastic; we were sat across from each other in an adorable cocktail bar with scented candles everywhere. The conversation was flowing with pauses only for laughter. We seemed to connect, and after several more drinks decided to go for a walk. Tom was a gentleman and held the door open for me, as I turned around to thank him and make a joke I twitched. I don’t mean a little twitch either, it was the sort that leaves you feeling bruised. In typical fashion I caught him in the neck. If anything is going to kill the mood on a date, it’s that.

At the time I felt awful. I spent a good ten minutes apologizing before we decided to call it a night. As you can imagine we’ve not spoken since, I wonder what put him off?! Luckily I can see the humor in these situations as they happen far too often.