Alcohol & A First Date

First dates can often be absolutely terrifying for anyone, not to mention the act of actually asking someone to go on a date in the first place. I often find myself caught in a violent crossfire of mixed emotions when I meet someone I want to take on a date (who the hell calls it a 'date' anyway - next im going to refer to my runners as 'trainers', the path as a 'sidewalk' and since im not drinking, ill be asking for a 'soda' instead of a white lemonade). You dont know whether you should ask because you're wondering to yourself, is this person flirting with me or are they just being nice? You decide to go for it and BOOM!... You take your shot. What should take only a millisecond takes an eternity but the answer is yes; Sweet as the cherry taken from the Virgin Mary herself. I wouldnt mind but when Im sober and I dont feel like taking the full risk of being shot down, instead of asking for her number I ask her something that displays true gobshitery like, "are you on facebook?" (ARE YOU ON FACEBOOK?? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?) What a parting gesture; "Oh great I'll add you"... Fan-bloody-tastic Deco, its not enough for her to think you dont have the testicular fortitude to ask her out, but after such a nerdish comment, she probably thinks your one of those Geeks who sits in their boxers all day long masturbating to the lightsaber duel in The Empire Strikes Back. Or another moment of sheer embarressment is when your talking to someone you really like and JUST before you feel ready to ask them out, that uncontrollable jet spray of spit squirts out of your mouth and lands on their eye-lashes or worse again, into their mouth; you're left standing there wondering whether or not to say anything or to continue like nothing happened. Alcohol involved however, you brazenly take his/her phone-number and off you go, content with the merry-drunken banter that you know your going to have through texts in which you will sign-off using smiley faces and ridiculous little kisses. I knew a bloke who once sent a single 'X' in a text to the girl whose number he had JUST gotten; after she charged him for poisoning her with pure cheese, he never heard from her again(by the way why doesn't anyone call anymore?). So, you decide to go on your first date, usually the hyper-intelligent bloke decides to bring the girl somewhere utterly stupid like the cinema - oh yes, great idea buddy, bring the girl to a place that requires you both to remain completely silent for 2 hours. If you are one of those goons; Grow a pair and bring her for dinner or to a stand up gig - something that at least appears like you're not petrified of speaking to her. The biggest apprehension that comes out of a first date stems from the fact that you are sober. I once tried to combat this nervousness by drinking a nagan of vodka before collecting my date; the first 40 seconds of the evening went well until I got into an argument with the taxi-man over which of Whitney Houstans albums was better; 'The Bodyguard' or 'My love is your love'... when she agreed with him that 'My love is your love' had a more modern twist, I instinctively turned to her and told her to 'SHUT HER FLITHY DEVIL-TONGUED MOUTH'. Needless to say she was shocked and appauled. But I ask you this, imagine someone attacks you from behind? You're not going to just let them mug you are ya?? She couldnt see this justification in my ourburst and so, I pushed out of the moving vehicle. But lets say you're date is more tactful than mine and you actually make it to the restaurant. You're both sitting there stone cold sober making conversation about idle things like 'how its getting colder and how the nights are getting longer' - of course only after you've discussed the obligatory family, work and hobby topics and find that you have absolutely fuck all in common. By now you have both sunk a bottle of wine and you are both a little more at ease. But when the food arrives you seem to sober up. You only half load your fork because you dont want to look like you're golluming the steak and vegetables like a homeless animal on the streets of Dublin city. But somehow, on one of the journey's from the plate to your mouth, you've overshot the trajectory of the fork and the food ends up all over your face - highly attractive. Another thing I dont recommend is going on a date when you have a cold or a flu; more than likely one of you will crack a joke and you'll inadvertantly blow snots down to your chin, trap-jawing your mouth in the process. Trust me, no amount of charm will remove that image from your dates' head - or the notion that some of it may have landed in her food. Even if it shoots down but quickly gets sucked back up in the same breath, (think of a bullfrog trying to snap-catch a fire-fly with its tongue) you're still a goner. So lets assume the date has gone well; you're both merry with the wine and full from the food. Whats the next hurdle? Of course; its the kiss. There are two types of finishing kisses; 1 - when the date has gone terribly wrong and you're utterly ashamed to even attempt to kiss her/him but, you timidly lean in under the illusion that the date would just be a TOTAL waste of time if you didnt at least get a kiss; but you find that it does when she pushes you back with the gesture of a handshake (sweet jesus how degrading would that be? Its been a pleasure doing business with you). 2- when you've clicked with that person and there is an instant attraction; you lean in and because both of you have been drinking, you literally eat eachothers faces with some farva beans and a nice kiante; a slobbery raw, wine tasting passionate kiss that more often than not ends with a singular string of saliva bridging the gap between both of your bottom lips'. The only problem with this is that you are now caught in a deadly dilemma; you know you have to break that saliva-string and you pray to God that it doesnt break on your side sending it Tarzan swinging onto her chin - but at the same time, you're not keen on getting a cumshot of spit to the face either. What to do? For situations like these I pull away really quickly and scream in the girls face as if ive gotten a terrible fright; This allows me to raise my hand covering my mouth in 'horror' giving me vital time to wipe her sudds off my face. I then say "oh sorry, I thought I saw a giant spider, they're horrible things arent they?...Eight legs"; she agrees and PHEW, ive managed to escape unscathed. So you spend the taxi ride back to his/her's uncontrollably rollocking around in the back seat, over-indulging in what I like to call, 'pre-sex-heavy-breathing-kissing'; when your tugging on eachother collars and and yanking them in close to you. And Im left thinking, if she rips this shirt, its not going to matter which Whitney Houstan album she prefers; she'll hit the sidewalk quicker than Linford Christy could order a soda while sprinting in his trainers.

Which leads me nicely into my next post; 'Drunk Sex'.

Bottomline no 9: Try to be yourself even when drunk but more importantly, bring a face-wipe...

Slan mo Chara,

Deco