Rubbish Date (1)

There was a time in my life when I used to go on random dates with people I'd met off the interweb and before the interweb I'd actually placed an advert in the LonelyHearts columns where they had a 'free' message pickup service once a week. I'd also go on dates with random strangers I'd met in a club/bar when my rosé tinted glasses were topped up to the limit.

Some of these dates have yielded good friends and people that I still see lots of and we go out and have a laugh. Some of these dates I have actively erased from my memory, and some just linger there in my subconscious and every so often pop into my mind and makes me shudder/cringe/laugh/blush...

So lets call this one Mr Small Hands.

This was one of those cringingley bad dates where you're both trying to think of what to say and um and ah quite alot. He was some holistic healer and had lied about his age, to the point where it wasn't just a few years, but more like a few decades.

After 2 sips of his wine he launched into the whole 'I'm looking for someone to settle down with et al' and it really freaked me out. I'm talking like MAJOR FREAK and I start to plan my escape. He then starts ruminating about living in the countryside in a cottage and does this 'steeple' thing with his fingers. And then I notice his hands.

They are incredibly small, like a childs hands. For some reason I find this funny and I giggle nervously, but then the idea of these Small Hands start to freak me out.

Cue, glup down drink, go to loo and ring friend to ring me back and pretend its an emergency.

I go back to the table and right on time, the phone rings. I try to look apologetic and he says its okay. Then he stands up and these creepy Small Hands are coming towards me.

I think I must have flown out of the door...