Eyes forward soldier
You might have gathered from some (all) of my posts that I’m not too shy when it comes to expressing my fondness for the male form. The beards, the arms, the V-shaped thing on their stomachs that doesn’t have a name because there aren’t words to describe how glorious it is (or maybe it does, a biology student I am not); it’s all very easy on the eye.
Despite my near constant ramblings about Fassbender’s MASSIVE …smile, I do rank personality miles higher than looks, but there are some date situations that are just too much to bear.
Stop staring at my boobs
Firstly, I’m just going to put all of the dates where I have had to repeatedly re-direct the prospective future Mr.Lorraine’s gaze to my face together. It’s been such an issue that I have contemplated writing across my boobs: ”Looking at these for prolonged periods of time drastically decreases the possibility of you ever getting one millimetre closer to them”
Turbo wash kissing
I thought I was going to the cinema with a friend and didn’t realise was a date until I was greeted with an industrial washing machine smooch. Thanks to my spending so much time around cats, I deflected the turbo-tongue away from my mouth and onto my cheek with super speedy reflexes. Thank god for long wearing foundation. Seeing as I was good friends with the guy I felt like I couldn’t tell him to back off – so I spent the next two hours in the cinema keeping a constant handful of pop-corn at the ready in case he went in for the kill again.
I don’t even remember the film, I was that concerned with keeping him at bay and burning red with embarrassment.
Ready for the spin cycle
Responding to a booty call in the middle of our date
For your final cringe-gasm, I was on a group date, my friends, his friends and a whole stomach full of butterflies. Things were going so well - he had great eyelashes and cared about politics. We made a strategic trip to the smoking area, where kissing may have occurred. (May if you’re a regular Beaut reader, may not if you’re my mother.)
Upon our return, I sat with my friends, glowing. I spilled my guts to them, saying that he was so charming and all the blah that flows from a teenager who has had two pints. In the middle of telling them how fantastic he was, he called from across the room.
“Claire… Lindsey… Lauren? Eh… Lynn! Here, young one!”
Young one!? I went to him with as much dignity as I could muster (none). He had called me over to tell me he was going to meet up with his ex. If you can raise me a situation more awkward than returning to your friends and telling them that the man you’ve just been gushing about is leaving in the middle of your date to respond to a booty call, I will buy you a pint.
Young wan.. I’ll give you young wan, chungfella..
Okay lads, I’ve shared – don’t be stingey! Spill your awkward date moments all over the comment section!