Date report – bastard

Vaughn Cities, Date reports, London 0 Comments

What am I doing?. I was banging a Kiev 8 last month and a Bulgarian 7.5, now I am sat across from a girl who looks like a slightly younger and shorter version of my Auntie. A 29 year old English girl I met in Nottinghill in the week, when I met her she seemed cute and friendly. Roll forward three days and I’m wishing I’d weaseled the approach.

We fetched a drink at a bar in Nottinghill, she isn’t fat, very slim really, is dressed quite well, she’s younger than me and I like her eyes. All good so far. I can got an idea that something was wrong with her from the intensity of the amount of texts she’d already sent me. For every one I sent her she’d reply immediately and it would be an essay. Wow, I thought, I think she likes me. I meet her on the date, she already mentions its seven thirty three, and that she was there at seven twenty eight. OK, I thought, bit weird but lets see what happens. We walk to a local bar, and she starts talking, about herself and her life, and she doesn’t stop. On and on.

I find out she used to be depressed, that she is very direct, she lives alone, no job, she used to date a Swedish man in Milan, she spills her whole life to me. I’m a stranger, I’ve only known her for 10 minutes. I think she is still depressed. I’ve not even asked her the questions game and I know intimate secrets about her. She knows nothing about me. We enter the bar and get seated. I sit there and act aloof, then I ask her if she is nervous, she says she isn’t.  I shake my head, and mutter something for her to go on. More endless chatter, I switch off, I’m trying to imagine what her body is like, and whether her pussy is shaved and how firm her 29 yr old tits are. I’m trying to ignore her face, I now notice the deep rings below her eyes.

I practice the Paul Janka leaning in and touching my lips, then I sit back and act relaxed, I touch her hands and mention her nail polish is chipped. She apologises, then rabbits on. I’ve drunk my pint, she has downed barely a thimble of hers. I decide if I’m going to fuck her I need to be more drunk. I buy another beer and wait at the bar. When I look back at her, she has a nervous twitch, her hands are rapping on the table. She doesn’t notice me watching her. I can’t do this, I can’t fuck her, I feel sorry for her.

I go to the bathroom, I’m worried that she might spike my drink, so I take it with me. I look at myself in the mirror, decide I’m going to finish my pint then eject. I poor half away then return. If she notices she doesn’t mention it. She tells me she is a good read of people, I ask her what she thinks I’m thinking, she says I’m thinking about swimming in the ocean. I lie, and tell her yes I am. She looks happy, “see, I knew it” she says.  I sit back, and she leans in towards me. The light suddenly shines on her face, it looks sad, she suddenly looks very lonely.

I tell her directly, that this won’t work for me. She mouths “ohh”, then asks me why. I tell her we don’t have a spark. I’m bored, but it’s feels good having the power over her. I feel sorry for her, I hope this will make her storm off in disgust. She says she appreciates my honesty. I don’t care, I just want to leave, have a cup of tea in my flat and watch some trash TV. She qualifies to me more, she asks what I like in a girl, I lie. I say “I don’t know, but I know when I feel it”. She mumbles OK, this is the first time she has been silent.

She asks me to wait until she’s finished her drink. I relent, there is an edge of awkwardness. I can tell her desperation is forming plans in her head to try and make me change my mind. I’m a bastard so I tell her this is the most I’ve liked her all evening.  She looks a bit happier, fuck it. More awkwardness, she downs her drink. I put my scarf on, she says she likes the way it sits on me. I say “thanks”, I feel pity for her.

We walk in the same direction, she asks me about my last relationship, I say it’s two years ago. She asks if I just do 1-night stands now. I look at her, lie, I say “no, I need to have a connection”.  She’s walking next to me, brushing against me as we walk. I know she wants me to take her home and fuck her.

I  say good bye, she kisses me on each cheek, then lingers. I turn, walk home and don’t look back.

She later texts me, thanking me for my honesty. I feel like a bastard.

 

 

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