The Blind Date ...

Evening All,

So whats new this week, eh? Well alot in fact. As I am sure you know I have had a very busy weekend. On Saturday came the shopping which nearly gave me a heart attack having spent nearly £100.00 in my favourite high street store. Sitting in the car after some frantic and high energy retail therapy Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I decided it would be best to head home and start preparing for my blind date! It took a total of nearly two and a half hours to primp and preen me to a knock-out level for my blind date. I had the works; eyebrows - which killed like a bitch, full face of make-up, hair and nails too as well as my outfit. By the end I was ready to present myself to my parents and the rest of the public. Mumma Bear was very happy, almost crying at one point stating how grown up I looked and what a transformation I had made. After being dropped at the station by Miss Tweedle-Dumb I nervously stepped out of the car and headed for the platform. Petrified I boarded the train to take me to central London. Still bricking it I made my way to the area surrounding St. Paul's Cathedral but somehow walking past the monumental structure of beauty its self, seemed to calm my nerves. Taking a few moments to collect myself together and secretly having a pep talk I continued to walk into the restaurant where my blind date was already waiting at the table.

As the matradee took my coat and showed me to my table I glanced at the person I would be spending the next few hours with over dinner. My date stood from his chair to greet me and we had an awkward European kiss before sitting down, whilst I had to do a more awkward movement of sitting down whilst the matradee pulled out the chair for me and sadly then attempted to push me in not realising I was indeed a heffa-lump in disguise as a beautiful women. Almost immediately after that we were asked what we would like to order which threw me off given the fact I had only just realised where the menu was. After asking for a few moments to decide I struck up conversation with my blind date. Shock coursed through my veins as my ears sharped to hear his voice. I had been set-up with someone who I had previously stated that if I was ever to encounter a date with such person 'I might just have to shoot myself in the face right there and then'. I was hoping for a date with a sexy Welsh or Irish accent, but instead I was sitting across from a handsome Liverpudlian lad. To be honest though, it wasn't as bad as anticipated as his accent wasn't as strong as I expected, I mean I had heard worse and at least he wasn't Scottish. Soon though the dislike of his accent faded and I started to see past it.

Astonished, my Liverpudlian date handed me the wine list which was encased in a posh looking leather bound book. I say shocked because I have never had wine with a man before. Mr. Workaholic rarely drank and when he did it was always a pussy drink like a brightly coloured alcho-pop. Still in awe of the gentleman across from me I flicked through the pages knowing that I was having an abnormally indecisive day and that making a decision was going to be tough. Closing the wine bible and handing it back to my date I asked him to choose as I was useless at making decisions on anything of late. And that was the first thing that we shared in common, indecisiveness. The first of many you could say as for the rest of the date we talked food and not much else. Giggling away,we were uncouthly interrupted by a waiter. Still reeling from the fact that Mr. Accent drank wine, we agreed on a sweet rose to settle our nervous stomach's. But then came the fumbling and odd procedure of the customers checking weather the wine is in actual fact out-of-date. I'm pretty sure that should be somebody's job out back - checking if the wine is off so that consumers don't have to. Nevertheless, Mr. Accent and I played along the game and became wine connoisseur, swirling it round and round in our glasses, sniffing and tasting. Was tempted to gargle but thought that might be too far.

As the date progressed, I found out that we had much more in common than originally thought. Mr. Accent and I had a passion for baking and loved to experiment with food which was another blow to the system as the most adventurous Mr. Workaholic got was chicken dinosaurs and potato waffles. Its funny how right now you think I am joking but oh no dear reader, this is true - Mr. Workaholic lived on chicken dinosaurs and potato waffles only to be alternated between chicken aeroplanes. Mr. Accent however was very keen on fish dishes and his favourite pudding was a speciality of mine - Sticky toffee, date and walnut muffins with gooey toffee sauce. Ironically as Mr. Accent and I were poured another glass of overly-priced wine we both selected a fish dish for our main meal, however, Mr. Accent's dish was missing the bacon. I didn't say anything but after the waiter had left I think Mr. Accent had sensed that I was wondering why he had refused the tastiness that is bacon. Another surprise. "I am a practising Muslim" Mr. Accent explained and whilst he has piercings and tattoo's he still believes in the core values of the religion, not that I had a problem or anything. The conversation soon left food and we went on to discuss family and life back home. As we continued our conversation the waiter arrived with our food presented beautifully and piled high on our shiny plates.

Chowing down on dinner in the most elegant way possible, I started to take in some of the features of Mr. Accent. Dressed in a rather provocative T-shirt showing an attractive young women biting at her own top in a sexual manner which was teamed with tight dark jeans and a black blazer Mr. Accent looked every bit the gentleman he was proclaiming to be. Mr. Accent was slightly bigger built to some of my previous Ex's and was quiet a bit older too - only twenty-three, but still older that prior love-interests. Mr. Accent, although a practising Muslim due to his father's heritage he was Caucasian and thanks to his mother's Norwegian background he had the most beautiful blue eyes. They sparkled like aquamarines in the light of the restaurant, large pupils indicating Mr. Accent was liking what he saw. With his facial hair and combed hair Mr. Accent resembled a face I knew of but still to this moment I cannot think as to where from.

Throughout pudding we discussed previous relationships and what exactly we were looking for. I explained in as little detail as possible about how Mr. Workaholic had just randomly one day came home to tell me he no longer wanted to be with me. This, although I thought was a horrendous way to break-up was topped by Mr. Accent. I was perplexed to learn throughout our conversation that Mr. Accent had been previously engaged to his last partner and was with her for a considerable amount of time before she cheated and ended the relationship. After discussing feelings and fears of a new relationship from both of our situations, I could see how hurt he still was by talking about his ex-fiance's infidelity and I tried to move the conversation onto better, more positive things. I think though that in hindsight he is still a little hung-up on his Ex and would like to rekindle things with her. It would seem a shame if Mr. Accent was to get back with his Ex as he is such a lovely guy and deserves much better than her cheating skanky ass.

The date ended well though and on a high. After nearly having a coronary after paying fifty-quid towards splitting the bill, Mr. Accent and I left the restaurant, but not before telling the matradee off for trying to dress me in my coat when that was clearly his job to do as a proper gentleman. Obviously this was never said out loud but I am sure that is how it would of happened if vocabulary was involved. Walking into the cool summer air surrounding St. Paul's Cathedral we exchanged numbers and went on our way into the night. Cleverly Mr. Accent had bagged a hotel room for the night and I couldn't help thinking that I should have too. By the time I got home it was gone three in the morning and I was shattered. Falling into bed I made a decision for the first time that day that although Mr. Accent was a charming, handsome, wonderful man it was sadly not meant to be. I am sure though that one day he will make a lady very, very happy.

And so the quest continues to find me a man. If you are over twenty-one and have matched most of my 'Hit List' (Sexy hair - Preferably dark, Gorgeous eyes - Again preferably dark but open to suggestions, Good teeth - Because nobody wants to make-out with a horse and Nice shoes - Just because) then please feel free to apply below. Besides, there is always next time isn't there. And it's not all a waste as I have a good friend in Mr. Accent. There is also a busy bank holiday weekend coming up. Miss Tweedle-Dumb's birthday, a night on the tiles with Miss Chocolate and a day trip to the seaside - Yes, alot to cram into one weekend. Somewhere in all of that fun I have to make time for drinks with Mr. Mot which I am sure will end with another story to tell.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx