First date Madness

I once watched in awe at a car crash of a first date – and, as I’m sure you will agree – last date. There were small tables and chairs in that boozer and this “couple” was sat at one. It gave the impression I was looking down from a raised floor. I could tell by their body language that they didn’t know each other. She looked like she had dressed to impress, he didn't. I watched him view a video and laugh at something on his phone while she was trying to talk. I got the impression the pub was his choice. It was hard to tell whether she wasn’t into real ale or just not into him or both. He was certainly into beer.

He gulped fast – having to go to the bar to get himself another pint as her feminine half pint glass stood virtually untouched. What had originally drawn my attention to them was actually two of sides of pink rashy pork – his bare buttock tops squashed above the driveway to his builder’s bum. It was all on display and because it was summer, it had a dewy glisten-on too. His jeans and belt were too tight and his T-shirt from baby gap.

The effect it made was his rear seemed like a fat child’s face smiling at me. I smiled back but that wasn’t the worst thing – this was: every time he wasn’t using his right hand to hold his glass, he was tucking it snugly into the bum crack like it was a docking station. One grace might have been that his date was spared this knowledge as she didn’t have my view of the house. When they got up to leave, he swiped her glass off the table and drained it in one go – waste not, want not. The look she gave was pure gold. And then! he attempted. To plant. A kiss on her. I’m not talking about tonsil-devoration but an affectionate lip-purse to the cheek. Instead, he puckered the dry air in the space her head had just taken evasive action from. He then proffered a hand (that one!) which was left hanging. Meanwhile, her entire body channelled an arrow being fired at the exit and then she was but a memory of footsteps. He looked confused and hurt and I snapped my gaze to the ground as I thought we were about to make eye contact.

We were the same species. I was feeling humiliation, shame, impotence all on his behalf. I felt like a beetroot roasting in its skin because I knew that there was more that connected me and him than separates us (though not the hand down the trousers!). His inability to read other people is something that goes to my core – I have personally been human illiterate too many times. And yet there I’d been “reading” his lady companion perfectly from a safe distance as he fulfilled his own dire prophecy. If you want to know yourselves, then scrutinise the people around you. I find that the pub is the best place to people-watch as it exposes our quirks and vulnerabilities through the gentle unwrapping of alcohol. Where better than a pub or restaurant in Leeds City Centre or Sheffield Centre to meet up with none of the above, but your perfect date, a lovely Leeds Escort Companion that will not judge or give any awkwardness at all, but she would be there to make your date perfect. Call City Leeds Escorts today and give yourself the perfect Leeds Escort experience.