She has been regaling me with hilarious titbits, so I begged her to write stuff down, simply to share with us all and here they are.
WARNING: Put any drinks down - you're likely to splutter them all over your KKKKeyboard!
Is it Me?
Internet dating for the more mature person is not without its pitfalls, or bad spelling. I don’t count myself as well educated but I can tell my your from my you’re and my more from my moor.
I am interested in meeting gentlemen (and I use the term lightly) but do their brains switch off at 50? A Website member, who claims to have a Masters degree wants to meet a ‘Kind harted woman’- good luck with that.
Bad spelling aside, I have met a very nice man, KKKKen. He doesn’t have a stutter but I can’t help thinking of the film ‘A fish called Wanda’. (Watch it and you will see what I mean).
Ken is looking for ‘a relationship’. A woman to snuggle on the sofa with, while watching a DVD and drinking a (cheap) bottle of wine. To me, this screams cheap date.
I‘m not this type of woman. I can watch a film on my own while drinking a expensive bottle of wine should I wish to. I’m looking for some fun.
Now ‘fun’ on dating web sites can mean sex, if that’s what you are looking for, fine, but surely a steak dinner first?
My first date with Ken started well. We arranged to meet at a local bar, which I consider upmarket. Points for that Ken.
It was a Saturday night and the bar was quite crowded, but luckily Ken had managed to find some seats. He gave me a carton of ‘Hero’ chocolates, (which I deserved by the end of the evening) and kindly got me a soft drink (driving). We sat and chatted, and chatted. It seemed no further drink was forthcoming so I pushed by way to the bar and bought us two soft drinks. £3.50! Now, if a man can’t afford to spend that sort of money, he shouldn’t be allowed out.
After sometime spent talking about his fish, I decided it was time to leave. First date, remember, you don’t have to stay to the bitter end. It was when he walked me to my car that I saw he was wearing an anorak, and trainers! Sorry but anoraks on the over 50s are not a good look.
|Is it her?|
KKKKen invites me out for a meal.
He suggests we eat at a nearby pub that has a restaurant, called
‘The Cock Inn’. I had never been there so Google them. The menu appeares, Two meals for £10. I’ve had sandwiches that cost more than that.
Not wishing to offend Ken, I ignore the Cock Inn and suggest a local pub, with a restaurant, that has no connection with male genitalia.
Busy day and in a rush to get to the restaurant on time, dress quickly, in cotton trousers and high heels. It’s not until I attempt to leave the house that I realise its freezing. No time to change so put on a pair of socks.
Arrive at said restaurant fashionably late, well, 5 minutes. It is rural Essex. KKKKen is at the bar. Drink? “Glass of red wine?” No, I’ll have a coke now please. I’ll have a glass of wine with my meal”.
We wait while Ken is overlooked by the barman. I manage to catch barman’s eye and give him my serve us now or else look. We are served.
We are taken to our table which is the centre of the restaurant. As I sit down I realise that my trousers have ridden up and are exposing the top of my black woollen socks, for all to see. Not a good look for anyone over the age of 16.
I spend the evening trying to pull down the trousers.
We order our meal and KKKKen starts to chat. His life story in brief.
Still working, (good). Says has lost weight due to running about at work.
Keep running Ken.
Married young, lasted 23 years until wife realised there was more to life than cooking and washing Kens’ socks. Divorced, split proceeds of house.
Meets woman, buys house with woman.
Woman moves in her two grown-up, layabout sons, who make the place untidy and sponge off Ken.
Ken moves out, split proceeds of house.
“Oh dear” I say, “not much luck then”. “I have bought somewhere local now” say Ken. “Do you know Sunny Side Park”? No. “Well, I have bought a static mobile home there”. It takes a second or two to sink in.
OMG I’m out with a man that lives in a caravan.
Due to our last ‘date’, when I had to buy my own drink, I’m determined that KKKKen will pay for this meal (during which that glass of wine was not forthcoming), and I have a plan.
I recently watched a USA sit-com where a guy didn’t want to pay his share when out for a meal with his brother. His trick was to wait until the meal was finished, just before the bill was due to arrive then go to the toilet. Returning to find said bill was paid. Magic.
Ken is on his second cup of coffee. “Must pop to the ladies” “Ok” says Ken.
Quick wee, text a couple of friends, peer at self in mirror, apply lip gloss,
pull up socks.
I make my way back to the table to find Ken on this third cup of coffee and no sign that the bill has been paid.
I make a big show of looking at my watch. “Is that the time?” Not sure what time it is, but it's way passed bored o’clock. Ken looks at his watch. “Yes, time's
getting on, flies when you are having fun” (Yes, I suppose it must).
Now I’m not a woman who gives up easily, one last try.
“Well Ken, that was a lovely meal, thank you very much”
“Er, oh yes, em, I’ll settle up then. Big smile (by me), “Lovely”
To be continued ....for 'shure!'