The Drunken Date…

…Which was sadly one-sided…

Hello dear readers!  When I first broke up with my boyfriend I spent a good three months crying to Sia whilst chugging vodka. Yes it was my decision but surely even the executioner can feel sadness for his work? Emotions aside, this cocoon of tears allowed me to emerge a beautiful seasoned drinker. Seasoned here means I can drink vodka but no longer taste it, a super power reserved for the worst Marvel reboot (Coming 2020: The Alcoholic V.S. Responsibilities). I’m not actually able to hold my liquor though, quite the opposite, I can hold my drink as well as J-lo can hold down an acting career. Unlike Pavlov’s dogs I refuse to learn my lessons and although tequila will give me the confidence of a rhino, it also grants me the grace of one too.

production value at smm…


There is a point to my poor ms paint skills. I was ready to start dating again but needed to know how to pick the right guys. I eventually learnt a phrase to weed out my potential suitors when they asked me “how are you?”.

My clever response was “I’m super full”.  

Top tip #21: Scare people off by mentioning causally that you’re making poo…

I’m not sure why I did this, possibly an emotional barrier to prevent people from actually making me move on? Maybe a grim attempt at finding a feeder? We’ll never know, but it did weed out guys who were just in it for a fuck.

hamburger, cheeseburger, burger
“I’ve no space for your cum kind sir”


This culminated in a dinner which unfortunately paired some sweet genuine guy with me, a raw nerve of emotions with Sia induced tear stains on my clothes. He took me to this fun little tapas place and  by fun I mean that they used wallpaper that looks like brick rather than actually buy decent decor (cheap). He wasn’t my type but he wasn’t ugly either, the perfect man to haul my emotional baggage until I eventually left like a parasitic wasp (I’m rarely the hero in these stories).

In preparation for the date I fasted like a monk attempting to self mummify (google that creepy shit), I think my aesthetic was Children In Need meets stripper (also in need). He was actually a very nice guy. He politely pretended to listen to my ramblings which a miracle considering I rarely understand myself on a good day. I however was drinking more sangria than humanly possible whilst only eating roasted peppers too keep up with my ‘send me money and blankets’ look.

Top Tip #34 Become a scary sangria vampire to inspire fear and dominance.

Unsurprisingly a diet composed of nothing but vegetables and fruit isn’t very healthy when your washing them both down with wine. My low tolerance alarm bells rang but I antidoted that with even more sangria, it did not end well…



I woke to a voice mail but very few memories of leaving, great.

“Hey, I’m not sure we should see each other again, I guess I’m looking for someone a bit more permanent”

More permanent? I could understand “less crazy” or “more stable”, watching somone slowly poison themselves through spanish cusine won’t exactly inspire confidence. “More permanent” confused me, providing there’s fruit and cheap wine, a sangria fuelled vampire could live forever! Through a series of the worst hangover flashbacks I learnt what actually transpired. Whilst waiting for a taxi to take me back to my coffin, I had thrown myself at him but not in an endearing old Hollywood way. Him being a gentleman, (or fearful… that is a solid possibility) refused which made me more adamant. It got to the point where he chucked me in the closest cab and promised to see me tomorrow, a lie which he thankfully didn’t follow through on. He must of confused my ‘let’s get to know me… intimately’ mood with someone looking for a one night stand. Seeing a person clearly ready to have sex but not for more conversation (well AA could help) labelled me as a ‘no strings attached’ kinda gal and he lost interest. The joke’s on him though, I can be creepily sexual and in a relationship, it’s one of my many selling points.

He did call the next day, but only to confirm that we wouldn’t meet again, ouch… 

So my sexys the lesson here is: Don’t force yourself on a date with a guy you’re only planning to use as emotional bellhop then get too drunk to coerce him into such a terrible arrangement.

Good luck out there!


Exercise: I played ‘Just Dance’ but I’m not convinced this counts…

Cigarettes: I ran to three different shops to find my brand of tobacco, draw your own conclusion

Dates: One offer to have my feet licked (not followed up on).


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