Blind Date Boredom

Firstly, let me explain how this blind date came about. Having recently had a couple of interested parties declare they are in fact no longer interested in me, I decided that for the sake of my romantic life, my sex life and my beloved mojo column, I ought to get myself a date pretty quick.

Having failed to discover anyone I particularly fancy by myself, I sent various acquaintances out to set me up with anyone they thought suitable. Hence I found myself on a date with a very nice man with whom I unfortunately have nothing in common.

Now, I don’t want to sound unbelievably shallow, but I was instantly put off by his DangerMouse t-shirt. Don’t get me wrong, I loved DangerMouse as a child, but there is something about a grown man in a cartoon t-shirt which puts me off a bit. I can’t explain why; perhaps in my head I read it as an attempt to say “I’m fun” whilst hinting at immaturity.

My t-shirt prejudice aside, we enjoyed some drinks and a couple of hours of stilted conversation. I do admit we both loosened up a little towards the end, and though I contemplated just accepting the failure of the date and aiming for a one night stand, I just couldn’t do it.

There is something about a grown man in a cartoon t-shirt which puts me off a bit.

Was it because I didn’t fancy him? Perhaps. I won’t lie, I’ve slept with people I don’t remotely fancy before, but usually it’s got to two in the morning and much alcohol has been involved.

However, I don’t think he was especially interested either. I mean, I don’t think he would have turned down sex had the opportunity reared its ugly head, but I chose to make my excuses and cut the night a little short. I had got to the stage of looking out the window once too often; having found myself at a loss to say anything in which he might actually be interested.

So blind dates: what’s my verdict? Well, this one was not particularly successful but then again nor was it absolutely dire. Although I think I might have preferred that as it would have given me wonderful material for this column.

Yet all is not lost; I have faith in my friends to recommend decent men for me. Obviously it’s just pot luck as to whether or not we hit it off. And no, I don’t think blind dating is sad or desperate as I consider myself neither (although I have a sneaking suspicion that the mutual friend who set us up painted me as such to this man - but I’ll forgive her).

It is really just a good way of meeting people you might not otherwise have met. If it goes well, that’s wonderful. If nothing comes of it, then at least you've met someone new and did something different with your evening. And if it’s awful, then at least you have a good story with which to entertain your friends.

I’ll definitely give blind dating another go, but I’d prefer it if it entailed Cilla Black presenting me with three blokes and then sending me off on holiday with one of them. Perhaps if I have another two blind dates, then at least one of them will work out well. Here’s hoping.

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