“What is that you are drinking?” I eventually blurted out.
“Sex on the Beach. Wanna try?” She offered me the straw.
I took a sip. “Mmm, not as sandy as last time.”
“Sorry?”
“Not as sandy as last time I had sex on the beach,” I cringed the moment the last syllable of the sentence dribbled out of my mouth.
“Oh, right.” She sort of let out a weak laugh, and then abruptly turned away and started looking around the bar; a sure-fire sign I had managed to put her off me in record time. This was not going well. Rob must have sensed my desperation. He gave me the thumbs up as a way of asking if I was okay, but I just shook my head. I was really annoyed how easily I’d given up. Stacey was right, I wasn’t a real man – I was pathetic; doomed to walk the rest of the earth a singleton.
“Hey Dan, what’s the name of the place where we went snowboarding last year?” Rob suddenly asked out of the blue.
I was taken slightly aback but managed to answer, “Lake Tahoe.”
“Oh my god, you snowboard?” Grace was genuinely interested. “That is so cool.”
Rob simply smiled and winked at me before he slipped back into his conversation with Katie with great ease. It was simple things like this that showed that thin line between a friend and a best friend.
“Yeah, well at least I try,” I turned back to Grace who was now leaning towards me, her chin resting on her hand. “I fall down a lot,” I said as she giggled.
And just like that I was back on track. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. We talked for ages and I started to feel comfortable again. It turned out to be a great night, the first one I’d really had this year.
Rob was as smooth as ever, and had Katie eating out of the palm of his hand without even breaking sweat. Jack was his usual loud self, making sure he was centre of attention and he continuously had us laughing at his jokes. Ollie had drunk himself into a stupor, and nestled his head across Kathy’s ample breasts, who didn’t seem to mind too much to be fair.
At the sound of the last orders bell we walked the girls to the nearest mini cab station. We paired off again as we waited for their taxi to arrive. Katie had Rob’s leather jacket draped over her shoulders and he wrapped his arms around her to shield her from the cold. Jack and Jessica locked lips, while Kathy pinned Ollie up against the wall and was practically eating the poor boy in what was clearly the most disgraceful public display of affection of the evening. Maybe fat girls were more grateful I thought to myself.
“It’s so cold,” Grace said, shivering.
“Where are my manners?” I took my jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. I hesitated to put my arm around her. Instead I almost ended up leaning my arm against her, before she made the move to snuggle herself against me.
“I had fun tonight,” she said looking into my eyes.
“Me too,” I hesitated again. Just ask her out – stop being such a pussy. “Perhaps we could go for a drink sometime,” I finally summoned the courage to ask.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
The taxi pulled up and the girls got inside. As we waved them off Rob turned to me. “So, are you going to see Grace again?”
“Yeah, we said we’d meet up for a drink.”
“You got her number then?”
Damn it.
Chapter 7: First Date
Saturday, February 7, 2009 - 7.40pm
Drought Clock: 36 days, 7 hours, 18 minutes
Rob came to the rescue again. Embarrassingly I got him to text Katie asking for Grace’s number. It probably cost me some serious points in the cool stakes, but I hoped the banter we had exchanged over texts throughout that week had repaired the damage. Plus we’d arranged to meet up the following Saturday so I’d have another crack at redeeming myself. Perhaps we would even laugh about the whole phone incident in bed after sex. Or at least that is the scenario I was wishing for.
But as the week wore on, the nerves had started to get the better of me. The build-up to the date had put me on edge. I started to get the same feeling as the night I lost my virginity.
I was 17 when I finally popped my cork. It was the summer of 2002 and me and the boys had travelled to Magaluf for our first ever lads’ holiday. We picked the destination mainly because Ollie’s older brother Brian had been there two years previously and often referred to it as Shagaluf. That was enough to sell it to Rob, Jack, Ollie, and me.
Six nights into a two-week break I met Rebecca. She was 18, tanned, with long golden brown hair. She could have just been 18 and female and that would have been enough.
She wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. For example, she had an annoying habit of widening her eyes whenever she finished a sentence, making her look a bit like a frog. But two hours’ worth of alcohol later, including six shots of something blue that tasted like aniseed, she took me by the hand and ordered me to take her back to my apartment.
This is when I made schoolboy error number one. I boasted to my friends that I was about to get some. I was going to “get my nuts in deep” is how I remember romantically describing it. I grabbed the wide-eyed Rebecca by her hand and marched her out of the bar like a man possessed.
Almost instantly the warm night air roused me from my drunken state and the enormity of this situation started to fester on my teenage brain. I was going to have sex. This was really going to happen. But wait – what if I was no good? What if I got too excited and squirted before I had even got my pants off? Or what if I got her pregnant? Shit, where were those condoms?
I quickly flipped my phone out and texted the boys to find out where the six packets of condoms were that we had brought along on this trip (only one had been used so far – by Rob obviously). Within seconds I got a reply from Jack informing me of which drawer I could find the Randy van Warmers in, as he liked to refer to them as. Little did I know that I had just made schoolboy error number two.
We arrived at the door to the apartment. Rebecca passionately kissed and nuzzled my neck as I fumbled to get the key in the door. She whispered how much she wanted me, which only served to make me feel more anxious. Finally I got the key in the door and we were in. She shoved me down on to the bed and leapt on top of me, whispering further delightful treats such as stick it in me. I reached across to the drawer where Jack said the condoms were stashed.
What was I going to do once I had a condom anyway? Did I put it on straight away or did I wait until she instructed me to do so? And what if she wanted to go downstairs for some foreplay – did I put it on before or after? I was so confused.
But the condoms were nowhere to be found. I panicked. What if I couldn't find them? Would she still let me stick it in?
I didn’t have much time to think about it though as suddenly the door swung open. It was then my schoolboy errors came home to roost as standing in the doorway were the laughing teenage figures of Rob, Jack, and Ollie.
“Go on my son!” Jack shrieked. “You'll need these,” and he threw the condoms at us. I was horrified as the packet bounced off Rebecca’s head. She screamed at me to get them out, and I jumped up without thinking. The laughs grew louder as I stood naked in front of my so-called friends, with a penis as tall and proud as ever, and ushered them out. I could still hear their laughter outside as I turned around and scooped up one of the condoms. I ripped the packet open and struggled to roll the latex balloon down my penis. Luckily Rebecca was on hand to tell me I was doing it the wrong way.
As soon as I was strapped I jumped back into bed. Screw foreplay – I didn't know how much time I had left. Ignoring the giggles outside the front door I proceeded to lose my virginity. Awkwardly. But things were about to take an unexpected turn.
During the course of that day I had visited the local shop and returned with bread, ham, and cheese. My fantastic idea was that we would save beer money in our final week by making sandwiches for lunch. In my head, this was a fantastic idea and I would return home a hero. In reality, it
is a well-known scientific fact that boys are immature at the best of times. Seventeen-year old boys on their first holiday are probably at the most immature level the male species can reach. Instead of praising my well-thought out plan of making sandwiches, they ridiculed me mercilessly and started to throw slices of ham, bread, and cheese around our apartment to show their appreciation.
I don't think I will ever forget the moment 30 seconds into losing my virginity that I noticed the piece of ham stuck to side of Rebecca's face. “What the hell is this?” she screamed upon realising she had a smelly, cold, piece of processed meat attached to her cheek. Her horror caused her muscles to tense, which caught me by surprise, and is still the reason I maintain to this very day why I only lasted 36 seconds during my first ever sexual experience. And if you don't believe me you can always watch the whole sorry incident on Jack's camera phone as luckily he was at the apartment window filming every last pathetic detail.
*
This was the first date I’d been on in over three years. After being with one person for so long, it was almost like I had no recollection of the rules of dating.
Luckily though, the boys had been on hand during the course of the week and were kind enough to offer their expertise on first dates, and how to impress a girl.
Where to take her:
Rob: Too many guys take girls to the cinema on a first date, but that is no good. You want to go somewhere where you can talk and get to know each other. You can’t go too wrong with a romantic dinner. But don’t take her to Burger King for crying out loud.
Ollie: There is that new Kung-Fu film on at the cinema. I bet she’d like that. Or even better, take her to a horror because she’ll be all over you. You might even cop a feel in the back row.
Jack: Wherever you go, make sure you arrange to meet somewhere out in the open so you can get a good look at her beforehand. I’m sure Grace is a good-looking girl, but we all had our beer goggles on that night. She could be a right old bow-wow. In which case, ditch her there and then. Give me a call and we’ll go for a beer instead.
Start of the date:
Rob: Make sure you arrive early and compliment her. Tell her how fantastic she looks before you say anything else. Girls love compliments, but don’t go too overboard because they will start to lose their effect, and you’ll come across as a desperado.
Ollie: Get a few shots in; it will help you relax. But don’t have too many, you don’t want to get drunk too early. Seven or eight shots should do the trick. Maybe drink a pint of milk before you go out just to line your stomach. Or maybe a dairy-based alcoholic beverage like Eggnog. That will kill two birds with one stone!
Jack: Don’t play your cards too early – keep a few aces up your sleeve. You don’t want to slip a Manchester United shirt on and call yourself Roy Keane. Girls hate it when guys are too keen. The last thing you want to do is be hanging on her every word and come across too Roy.
During the date:
Rob: Listen to her and ask questions. Keep your focus, attention, and conversation solely on her. Be interested in what she has to say and get to know her. Make her feel like she is the only person in the room that really matters. But don’t stare at her tits though; unless she encourages that sort of thing. If she does – winner!
Ollie: I would advise against farting in front of her. The only time you can really do that is after you have slept with her a few times and then you can trap her head under the covers. She is officially your girlfriend when you get to the stage of forcing her head into the Dutch oven.
Jack: Make sure you crack a few jokes throughout the date. Birds love a guy with a good sense of humour. Say things like, “Want to come back to mine for pizza and sex? Why not? Don’t you like pizza?” She'll be all over you mate, trust me.
The end of the date:
Rob: Some girls don’t kiss on the first date; some will be disappointed if you don’t at least try to kiss her goodnight. There is no easy answer for this one. You’ll have to try and gauge the situation from her body language and go on your gut instinct. Not once have I ever failed to get a goodnight kiss, but this is you we’re talking about.
Ollie: I insist on two things when I go back to a girl’s flat: a cooked breakfast in the morning, and a lift home.
Jack: If she bites it, smack her.
Loaded with such brilliant advice, how could things possibly go wrong? I’d arranged to meet Grace in a bar in Leicester Square at 8pm. I was planning on getting there about five minutes early, but my enthusiasm to make sure I was on time meant I ended up getting to the bar 20 minutes too early.
I decided to go in and scope the place out. I spotted an intimate table in the corner and slipped my jacket across the back of the chair, like a lion marking my territory. I decided to get a drink in, something a lion probably wouldn’t do.
“Vodka and coke, please,” I said to the barmaid. I watched as she poured in a double measure of vodka and then sprayed the coke on top; the ice clinking against the glass as she sat it down in front of me.
“That’s seven pounds and 20 pence please,” the barmaid said. Bloody West End prices. I started to think that I hadn’t thought this through very well. Inevitably I was going to end up paying for this date, with that being the gentlemanly thing to do. This was going to cost me an arm and a leg.
I handed her a £10 note and she placed the change on one of those little silver trays in front of me. I remembered Rob leaving the barmaid a tip last week, and his plan had worked – he never had to wait longer than a couple of minutes to get served whenever he went to the bar. So I scooped up the silver coins and left the barmaid two gold ones.
“Thank you very much,” she said smiling as she collected the money. “I’ll be able to get myself a drink when my shift ends at eight.” Bollocks I thought to myself. My two pounds had earned me just 15 minutes worth of immediate service. Not exactly money well spent.
I had time to kill. Looking around the bar, I started to get that paranoid feeling that people were looking at me like I was some kind of loner. Of course, no one was paying me any attention, but that didn’t prevent the burning desire I had inside to prove I wasn’t alone, and was in fact waiting for someone.
I constantly checked my watch, and squinted as I stared into crowds of people, trying to make it as obvious as possible I was looking for someone.
My mobile came in extremely useful in this situation too. What did people do when they were waiting for someone before mobile phones came along? I pretended to text. I even started to write conversations with myself. Before realising it I had typed out sentences like Where is she? I hope she turns up soon. I glanced around to make sure no one had seen this and quickly deleted the messages.
I thought about calling someone, but who would I call? If I called my mates they would take the piss saying I had been stood-up. If I called my mum she would want to pry; and calling your mum on a first date isn’t something I could imagine a 21st century James Dean doing. Instead I pretended to make a call.
I finished my first drink and went to the bar and ordered another; getting my money’s worth for the one and only time that night as the same barmaid served me another double vodka and coke in record time. I sat back down and looked at my watch: two minutes past eight.
As the minutes passed I resisted the urge to text Grace. She had probably got caught on the Tube or something, knowing how bad public transport could be. Still, by the time 8.15pm ticked by I was onto my third vodka and coke and starting to worry.
“Hey, need some company?” The barmaid I had bought a drink earlier plonked herself down in the seat opposite me reserved for Grace.
“I was just waiting for someone,” I stuttered.
“You’ve been waiting for quite a long time. Has she stood you up?”
“No, I just got here early,” I told her, now nervously looking towards the door. I was pretty sure that sitting here with another woman was not going to be viewed too favourably on a first date.
“I see gu
ys get stood up in here all the time. They sit around waiting for ages like right losers. But you bought me a drink so I thought I’d take pity on you.”
The nerve of this girl. She couldn’t have been more than 19 and here she was making assumptions that I was this sad loser who had been stood-up and needed her company. Had she not seen my little act earlier which made it perfectly clear I was waiting for someone?
“I am not a loser, she is just running late,” I told her.
“How do you know? Has she called or text you?” she said, sipping on the drink I had probably bought her.
“Well, no...”
“She hasn’t even contacted you? You have definitely been stood-up.” She giggled.
“I have not been stood up. And even if I have, I don’t care because...”
“Hi Dan, I’m so sorry I’m late,” out of nowhere Grace was now standing at the side of the table. “Who’s this?”
Before I even had a chance to reply the barmaid got in there. “He thought you had stood him up.”
“No, I didn’t think she had stood me up,” I frowned at the barmaid before turning to Grace with a nervous smile on my face. “I didn’t think you had stood me up.”
“Anyway, I’ll get off now you’re here. Thanks for the drink,” the barmaid said before leaving me the most cumbersome start to a first date I think I could have imagined.
The Drought (The hilarious laugh-out loud comedy about dating disasters!) Page 7