Hand me a shovel for this hole I am digging...
I have had a big weekend - date wise. In the past four days I have had dates with four different men. And they were not all awful. The best date of them all happened on Sunday night, with a gentleman that I was meeting for the first time.
The thing about dating via the internet is that the first date is not the difficult one to get. That is the one where they actually meet you - but it is the second date that has proved somewhat out of reach to attain. All too often, the end of a date is noted by the infamous "I'll call you" line, which more often than not signals no further contact. The last couple of dates I have had, have ended with the gentleman already arranging the next date. So, I seem to be on an unprecedented run of good luck.
Last night, when I was on date number three of the weekend, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a very gorgeous gentleman. He admitted to some nerves about meeting me, which made him all the more endearing. We enjoyed a wonderful dinner and show (well, the local bums that collapsed outside the front restaurant window were certainly entertaining to us). We moved on from dinner to a local bar to partake in another couple of drinks.
The bar had a small seating area to one side, that was filled with comfortable couches, magenta walls and candle-lit ambiance. The archway into this alcove was painted a curious shade of blue, but the rest of the cavernous enclosure was slightly uterine in feeling. In my truly classy style, I commented that the area reminded me of a vagina. If that was not bad enough, I further went on to say "Although I hope that the entrance to my vagina isn't blue."
I believe he nearly choked on his beverage, but recovered nicely when he realised that I actually blushed at my own idiotic comment. To his credit, he thought it was cute. And has already asked me out again.
Coping with stupid things I say is definitely a bonus. Could be a keeper methinks.