I had to tell you about a most hilarious date I went on a few months ago. I was planning on keeping it to myself, because I wondered if it was my fault I was attracting nutters from all over the world, but I thought I would share it with you, and ask if this is 'normal' behaviour, am I just being too picky? :) At this point I have to say he was single - not my usual choice but I thought I would try the single market to see what I was missing and if, in fact, I was making a mistake just dating married guys.
I agreed to meet him in the car park of a local pub. It was broad daylight, and we were meeting during working hours so we would both be dressed accordingly. He was a bank manager, and had told me to look out for a brand new BMW 5 series. I thought clearly he's doing ok for himself, he must be intelligent, ambitious, successful, all traits that I find attractive. We had chatted briefly on the phone, chatted online about mundane, boring things, the usual small talk, nothing in depth, nothing saucy, nothing specific, just the usual likes, dislikes and families.
I found his car and pulled in next to him. Climbed out of the car and tapped on his window. He was buried in a magazine and hadn't notice me arrive, but when he saw me by his door his face lit up and he jumped out of the car with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, took my arm and proudly walked into the pub. We ordered drinks and went to sit outside, it was chilly but the sun was out, and you know what the Brits are like when the sun surfaces, even if it is 5 below :)
We sat down at a cast iron bistro set, the kind with a filigree surface, see through if you looked hard enough. As I sat down the skirt of my suit rose up a little, from above my knee to mid thigh. It was, by no stretch of the imagination, obscene or trashy, but from his position he noticed the very bottom of the top of my stockings. Just as the pale fabric turns into a lace top, a fraction of an inch was showing just below my skirt. I realised he had noticed and I readjusted my skirt, but by then it was too late. He started panting, almost hyperventilating and he could hardly speak. He was mumbling "Oh my god ....... my god ........ stockings, you've ...... got .... oh my god ... stockings on..... oh my god!" I couldn't help the corners of my mouth twitching, convinced I was about to laugh out loud, I sternly said "Pull yourself together man, its just stockings!". At this point, thinking it could get no worse, he started rubbing his thighs. At this point you should have a mental picture of Vic Reeves on Shooting Stars. Hyperventilating, stuttering and rubbing his thighs, remember - He's a Bank Manager! I waved my hand in front of his face to break his gaze through the table, and told him to behave or I would walk out. He finally calmed himself down and we attempted a 'normal' conversation.
We finished our drinks and he asked "What shall we do now?" I offered to go for another drink and he shocked me by saying "No, I meant are we going to do it at your place, cos you're clearly up for it, you've got stockings on!!" Yet again, the corners of my mouth twitched, I was dying to shout 'are you for real?' but I calmly explained that I wear stockings every day, and they are not to 'pull' a man. If he wanted to continue the date we could have another drink, if not then I would be leaving. He meekly got up and went to the bar, leaving me precious minutes to send the 'emergency' text message to my best friend. A while after he returned with the drinks my phone rang, with my friend in hysterics, crying about her failed relationship, about finding her boyfriend screwing the baby sitter and could I go to pick her and the kids up. She is a talented actress and made sure it was just loud enough for him to overhear.
I made my excuses, finished my drink and got up to leave, very apologetic and insisting we should do this again. Clearly a gentleman was under the surface of the bizarre, pushy, panting, perv and he offered to walk me back to my car. I accepted, and we left via the garden, passing the bouncy castle with several children happily leaping around screaming.
As we crossed the car park he said "Ohh you haven't got your present!"
"Present?" I asked. "There was no need for a present!" I was beginning to wonder if he was trying to redeem himself for his bizarre behaviour. How wrong I was.
We got to the car and he produced the biggest banana I have ever seen. Not a comedy, inflatable banana, but a regular, shop bought, mother of all bananas. It was enormous, the biggest banana I'd ever seen. God knows where he managed to find it. I looked at him with a very puzzled expression on my face, confusion mixed with curiosity. I don't even like bananas. I was searching my mind to think about a conversation where the word banana might even have surfaced. I couldn't. After a moments silence and me looking at him like he had just escaped from the asylum he explained. I wish he hadn't!
"Well Karen, I thought, if we got on really well we could go back to your place and I could watch you, you know, well, watch you ....... with it, with the banana"
"Slice it? Make a sundae out of it? Deep fry it?" I asked.
"Nooooo, silly, I wanted to watch you, well you know, with it, you and it, well you know.... play with it!! And then if we didn't get on, I could give you the banana anyway, and then I would have a mental picture of you, well you know, doing it, so I could, well you know, while I do it later!!"
My mouth dropped open, probably wide enough to take the obscenely large, phallic fruit! I shook my head, told him thanks for the thought but keep the banana and climbed into my car.
At the time I had Recaro racing seats in my car, and we all know they aren't terribly lady like to get in to. So in the process of my escaping he glimpsed a tiny fraction of stocking top again. Standing in the car park in broad daylight, he leaned against his car and started the panting, wheezing, leg rubbing performance again.
"Seriously mate, get in your car if you're gonna do that! Do you need to follow me out of the car park to get home?" What was I thinking being polite?
He climbed into his car and closed the door. I could see his head and shoulders above the door as he wound the window down to say goodbye. "Thanks for the drinks, much appreciated" I said. "Now, do you need to follow me to find your way back to the motorway?" As I was asking I noticed him sliding down, inch by inch his arms and shoulders disappeared until all I could see above the door was his head. He turned to me and shook his head. He clearly couldn't speak.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Nothing!" He shook his head frantically.
"What are you doing?"
"Are you wanking? There is a bouncy castle no more than 50 yards away, are you seriously wanking?"
"I can't drive until I've got rid of this." He nodded towards his crotch and grinned.
I can only assume what happened next because I shot out of that car park like Lewis Hamilton chasing a Ferrari off the grid. Thank god for powerful cars, the wheel spin was spectacular and I left dust, and a wanker, in the distance. I had to laugh, the corners of my mouth finally gave in and I laughed so hard I swear a little bit of pee nearly came out.
Moments later I got a text message 'Thanks for meeting me, can't wait to see you again soon!'
I deleted it :)
Maybe thats one reason I don't date single men! :)