So you want to know about the worst date I ever had, eh? Well, that’s quite easy under the circumstances; I’ve not been on many…. The shortest of those was less than an hour, would you believe. Don’t laugh, it’s true! It was a blind date, and how I wish it had stayed that way. It had been organised through a friend of a friend so it was never going to amount to much…. She was half an hour late, blubbery like a beached, depressed whale, and seemed as unimpressed with me as I was with her. I ordered her a drink – a glass of beer (though it may as well have been a bucket) which was downed instantly as she started to moan about her ex, who she’d seen the night previous. She was still suffering from a hangover and mumbled something like an apology before taking off, leaving me to nurse my flat Pepsi. She’d been there less than 10 minutes. Short but definitely not sweet! But that wasn't my worst date by far; but ran true to course for the rest.
In my dating life I'd stumbled upon a few theories about online dating; about the people that filled out profiles on those dating sites and how they did not actually want to meet others. They tended to fall into three main categories.
They put no effort into their profile. It had the meanest amount of information about their tastes, personality, and a couple of inappropriate photos of them downing pints of sangria
They put too much effort into their profiles; so much so they ended up as a mission statement of intent. Invariably the profiles would be split into sections like an employment contract: “I will…… You will….. “ I’d often reach the bottom of the profile and end up with a migraine. It was a shopping list of wants and desires they wanted fulfilled and nothing short of a cross between Stephen Hawkins-ian intellect and an Adonis body would have sufficed. There were others who considered themselves ‘deeply spiritual’ and so far up their own arses that the only way they’d ever see the light again was if they had the shits! These were people who were so
conceited that they saw themselves far above the world and the lowly troglodytes around them… You know the type: beetroot tea drinking, tree shagging, opinionated bitches.
Everyone else -and what a mixed bunch this was. From the train spotters to the game players. Many of these were asking for the world too and not willing to put anything of their own into the mix. Some of the profiles were written by their friends and others looked as if they’d been cribbed off other people’s!
But on that fateful day... what ended up being the worst of my dating experiences... I thought I'd hit the jackpot.
Helene was different. Her profile photo was of a woman who loved to smile; a natural energy with an open personality. She had varied interests, loved dogs and seemed to have similar tastes to me. What was even more remarkable was she wanted to meet!
We were to go on a walk round a local wood right in between where we both lived, and it was a wood I knew quite well so I was happy, having a little local knowledge. She wanted to walk the dog and saw it as a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.
We met on time and she was remarkably like her photograph -somewhat of a rarity these days. Thankfully, Helene said how easy it was to recognise me -not sure how many other obese bespectacled chaps there were in the woods that day, so it wouldn’t have been too difficult!
Her dog was an absolute delight -Sparkles; a dopey beast that took an instant dislike to me and just yapped endlessly. We started walking at a frenetic pace which made it difficult, but not impossible for me to converse and I had a very bad feeling this would be a test of endurance and attrition. She was charming if a little naive -she tended to see the best in people at all times which I found a little tiresome after a while, just as I’m sure my constant derision became irksome to her. I noticed that there were several occasions where the pace suddenly increased and I can only be thankful that the terrain was level; had we been going
up hill and down dale I’m sure she would’ve lost me quite easily.
So far nothing too untoward; it was a genuine date; pedestrian and dull; but one that could still have swung round had we found that spark; that one bit of commonality needed to move us beyond the growing belligerence. Then we encountered the squirrel.
Or more importantly, that damned dog Sparkles encountered it. I’ve always known squirrels to be swift and fleet, highly aware of their surroundings. All I can say is this particular one must have had advanced senility. Sparkles was definitely not the brightest dog I’d ever met; it hadn’t mastered the concept of fetch, nor heel -in fact, the only thing it could really do was annoy me constantly. We first heard an unholy squeal and the dog leapt out of the bushes with this poor squirrel hanging from its jaws, still twitching. Helene praised the dog and was all for just leaving the poor creature to die slowly.
“You can’t do that! It’s inhumane!” I snapped, aghast that she could be so thoughtless.
“It’s only a squirrel!” She replied, a bemused expression on her face. “If you care so much, you do something about it.” The look of derision on her face was maddening.
I was now struck with a quandary. If she wasn’t going to do it then I had to. The only trouble was I had no way of knowing how to do it. For all my bluster and prevaricating I was a townie and just wanted to walk away myself, but I couldn’t. There was no rocks to bash it’s head in so I tried stamping on it’s head…. But I missed, it suddenly got it’s second wind and started trying to move away from me. This caused Helene to laugh out right and I blushed. This was getting nowhere. I needed to do something fast, so I bent down, hoping to snap it’s neck… And the fcking thing bit into my hand, right between the thumb and the forefinger. Couldn’t it tell I was trying to help it?
I yelled and dropped the squirrel, managed to kick it away before it got the taste for blood and tried to find a handkerchief. My hand bled profusely, and Helene showed a little concern; asked if I was alright. I calmly replied that I was fine, it was just a scratch and thought that it might be a good opportunity to walk back to the car. The dog looked up at me with
bemusement and all I wanted to do was kick it hard. The walk home was slower, thankfully, and I tried my best to keep up a conversation; all the time wondering whether squirrels had rabies.
After half an excruciating hour later we finally got back to the cars. Helene thanked me for an amusing date (her exact words) and drove away. I never heard from her again -she didn’t even bother texting me to find out how the bite was! I drove to the hospital and waited in A&E amongst the assorted sports and DIY related incidents. The receptionist had a hard time keeping a straight face when I explained what the nature of my injury was and had to ask for further clarification. When it was finally my turn to go and see the triage nurse I unwrapped my hand and the nurse asked what had caused the bite. I could tell that she was expecting a dog, cat or even a rabbit.
“A squirrel.” I said.
“What?” She exclaimed and laughed, before apologising both profusely and genuinely. I then explained what had happened, the date and all. I could see the funny side of the mis-adventure (I still do!) and was pleased that it had cheered her up no end. She thanked me for recounting the experience -I had been her first squirrel related incident – and hoped that I would have better luck with women in future. She was actually rather beautiful and truly seemed to care about my predicament… but wouldn’t you know it? She was married as well! Nuts!!!
