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A decidedly dirty date…

The worst thing about internet dating is the actual dates.  

Bob the builder

He couldn't fix it...

Meet Adrian, aged 49, builder, and a bit of a knob. I knew this because I’d met him years ago when he’d built a shed for my neighbour. Last week he contacted me through my oh-so-fabulous dating site, and suggested dinner.

I wasn’t keen. He wore down my resistance, and we compromised with takeaway pizza at his house. Do I know how to have fun, or what?

I knew Adrian had a dog because he’d posted a photo of it on his site. A ratty looking, terrier thing with an evil glint in its eye, so I took my dog along. Mainly because I thought they’d scrap and I’d have an excellent excuse to make a fast getaway. Wrong! They immediately became the best of Pedigree Chums, the traitors!

Well, Adrian built his house and I was honoured to have the guided tour. I couldn’t comment on the actual building because I couldn’t see any of it underneath the piles of junk, hanging cobwebs and filthy, dirty dishes. It was foul! Even the dogs declined to jump on the furniture for fear of the resident wildlife…

Two rats...

Yikes! There's two of them!

I perched precariously on the edge of a chair, nursing tea from a stained, chipped mug and wondering how the hell I was gonna dispose of it, when the ratty dog thing leapt on my lap, bouncing me backwards. Adrian was warbling on about his new teeth, screwed in that day and giving him jaw-ache. Well, that made two of us. The terrier thing lunged at me, pinning my hair down to the back of the sofa, and started snogging my face. I couldn’t move! Hot tea was slopping down my leg. I tried swatting him away with my free hand but the mutt was on a mission. My dog, thinking Woof! That’s a fun game! jumped up and squatted on my free arm. (He’s a big, butch labrador, but he has no brain.)

It was a canine snog-fest with me caught in the middle, making this muffled, strangulated noise out of the corner of my mouth; I was too scared to open it – a dog’s tongue would’ve been in there tickling my tonsils. ‘Gerrofff….’elp….meeee…’toff… fcks…seck….arghh…’eeellllpppp…’

Adrian was completely oblivious. He was too engrossed in his new diatribe against self-obsessed women to notice that his dippy, demented dog was eating my face.

Us girls only want a bloke for his wages. Nobody’s interested in a lowly builder. Poor Adrian can’t find a woman because he isn’t bringing in the dosh.

If I could’ve opened my mouth, I would’ve put him straight: poor Adrian can’t find a woman because he’s a bit of a knob.


About Tiny Temper

I'm a middle-aged freelance writer living in Cornwall. And no, it's not all sun, sand and steaming pasties. I've been married, done the divorce and accidentally shrunk the tee-shirt.

8 responses »

  1. Good morning Tiny,

    A superb post, and an excellent read over the morning coffee (when I should actually be working) ! I did the online dating thing last year, and it’s rather disturbing some of the mooks that it dredges up in response to your profile. Queue dodgy date numero uno, nice lady…just more hair on her face than mine. Numero dos, a rather rough character who had a long string of court appearances under her belt ! I did find my soulmate eventually, but I did have to avoid kissing a few frogs.

    Whilst I am still “soapboxing” (it’s kind of like beat-boxing, only with moaning and raising of eye-brows)…I can’t stand dogs. Ratty, smelly, hairy (sounds like one of my ex’s) needy little shit machines. Ever notice how dog owners have the same hair cuts as their pooches ?

    Back to the subject…

    Keep going…us blokes aren’t all football obsessed pissheads, and some actually care about how their partners feel !


    PS Takeaway pizza as a first date :/

    • Why thank-you, Dan! And welcome aboard SS Dating Disasters – hope you enjoy the ride!
      Maybe you could come and do a guest blog spot for me…the hairy woman sounds delightful 😉 Trawling through the mens’ profiles is depressing enough, I’m not about to start analysing the women as well!
      You sound lovely! Do you have an older brother? If so, could you please shove him my way 😉
      And the pizza was my fault; I couldn’t face the thought of sitting with him in a restaurant for two hours. I thought Fast food=Fast date 🙂 Kinda begs the question why I agreed to go out with him in the first place…

  2. Hey Tiny…if that is your real name,

    That could be interesting, the flip side of Internet dating from the male point of view. I could certainly write some tales about dating, and psychopathic ex’s. In fact, it may run into a novel. Somewhat akin to “Crime & Punishment”, for sure with Internet date #2 !

    I found that the problem was that I had a hard time actually believing the tripe that people slap up on their profile. I checked out the “competition” as well as the ladies profiles.

    Instead of actually employing some brain power, and stringing together some decent sentences that read correctly…they put junk up like “WANT TO MEET GR8 GIRL FOR FUN TYMEZ. WELL FIT FURTY N FLIRTY @ 30”. Note, be sure to include the picture of yourself just after you had thrown up after 12 pints of Wife Beater (Stella)….whilst eating a donner kebab with your fingers.

    They say that you can’t buy class, but you also can’t polish a turd.

    Alas I am the oldest of 3, and I am taken ! Besides I am from Liverpool, so doesn’t that make me instantly repellent to persons south of the Watford Gap ?

    On a serious note, give me some feedback on my blog. I’ve just started, but it’s quite addictive 😛 !

    Dan x

    • Hey Dan,
      I’ll pop over to your blog this evening and leave a message – that way, you’ll get my e-mail address and if you feel like doing a male pov post, you can mail it 🙂 It sounds interesting! I’m only two months into this blog, so I may not have anything useful to say, though…
      Tiny isn’t, of course, my real name. I’m writing undercover to (hopefully) avoid being sued by men I’m publically naming as knobs! 🙂
      As for the profiles – I know what you mean; all that text-speak – I can’t bare it, really. Some just copy and paste ‘blah, blah, blah’ until they’ve reached the obligatory word count. How does that help anybody?
      Dang! Why are all the good guys married? Or gay? Or gorillas? I’m so gonna die an old spinster 😉 But I lurve a decent scouse accent. God, I was hooked on Brookside and spent years fantasising over Barry Grant *blushes* And Watford? I met my First Love in Watford. Wonder what happened to him? I can feel a blog post coming on….
      Okay, I’ll catch you later at dannyllama x

  3. It’s a pity you didn’t have a carton of chilli powder to sprinkle on that dirty dog’s nose.

    Wasn’t Barry Grant was a brooding gangster type, Ms Temper? He wouldn’t have tolerated your cheeky backchat, that’s for sure!

    • Barry Grant was indeed a bad-ass. Poor Barry! He just needed the love of a good woman… And he was incredibly tolerant and flexible – in my dreams… 😉
      Do you get Channel 4 in the jungle, then?

  4. I used to work in a circus based in England, Ms Temper.


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