So, I should have known when he said 'Let's meet in the Yard' that it was never going to work.
I decided to be very brave last night and go on a blind date. What little I knew about the guy seemed decent enough - works in the media (I've always been attracted to creatives), lover of music (an imperative for me) and over the phone, seemed to have a decent wit.
So I head to the Yard (bleugh!) and after realising that the photo I had seen of him was obviously 4 years old, began to chat. (I mean, image isn't *everything*, surely...)
But when I say 'chat' - it wasn't really a dialogue. In fact, I don't think I said that much at all during the 2 hours we were together. He just spoke about himself. Apart from the obligatory "what is it you do for work again?", to which my answer was treated with yet another diatribe about how fantastic his job was.
Although I could write a veritable essay about pearler moments of the evening, here's just a taster:
Date: Do you find it difficult being Australian?
Ziggy: Er... sorry?
Date: Well, surely you don't like it?
Ziggy: Fuck you! (said with a smile in my broadest Aussie accent while taking another slurp of my pint)
The end of the evening was possibly the finest moment though, at around 10.30am... Date obviously felt it appropriate to let me know that even though I was Australian (evidently a lower life form) that he found me attractive. He did this by grabbing my arse and saying "loving your look, man".
Think I'll just stay at home in future and watch re-runs of Prisoner Cell Block H.