An Adult Story Time

After the divorce, which was much messier and drawn out than I would have liked, I was on my own again. It was a situation that I was both looking forward to and dreading. I really did not know what to expect and was very unsure of myself and what to do for the best.

I knew that I wasn’t really interested in any long term relationship, at least not right away, but I was keen to get out and start meeting people, by which I meant men, of course.

I wasn’t sure how to get into dating again, but a friend of mine was going to this speed dating thing which was being arranged. That sounded safe enough and not too committing either, and she would be there for company as someone to arrive with and go home with later. I didn’t have any particular illusions about speed dating and I couldn’t really see me meeting Mr Right in five minutes in a speed dating session across a bare wooden table.

The good news was that there was food. I love my snacks and I exercise religiously, so I reckon that I deserve them.

The men were a mixed bunch, but I suppose that is to be expected. A few were looking uncomfortable in suits. Listen, guys, if you don’t normally wear a suit then forget about putting one on just to impress the ladies - you feel uncomfortable and you look uncomfortable, so lighten up and just dress casual, though preferably not as if you’ve just come off a building site with brick dust in your hair.

Which, strangely enough, was pretty much what the first guy was like. Fortunately, he was also quite funny, and I think he had come off a building site and had just been put up to it by his mates at the bar. I got a drink out of it and he jollied up the event for me.

The next guy was overly thin, nice smile, but seemed to have a constant tickle in his throat. He worked in some insurance company, but didn’t have much conversation beyond that, so speed dating was just the ticket to move on from him after the allotted time.

The next guy was friendly enough, but nothing special, but I found the fourth chap a bit creepy and he kept caressing his hands for some reason. I guess it was probably nerves, but I found it a bit sinister and it reminded me a bit of Uriah Heep in Dickens.

Was it a success? Well, I’m not too sure, but I’m on a first date with the bricky. Of course, I could have got that just by staying at the bar.