The Blind Date

Believe it or not – these still happen like they used to in the glory days, except gone is the romantic ‘I’ll be standing under the clock tower with a red rose in my suit pocket’, replaced instead with a text that reads ‘are you the girl standing underneath the Starbucks sign?’ – It’s far more awkward.

How it happened:

This is absolutely tragic. The blind date was actually instigated by my best friends dad! You know you’re the token single when even your seniors are attempting to find you a man! It was one of the junior employees from his firm and a genuine blind date – no photos, no information, no facebook stalking, no nothing! Needless to say I was bricking it and a hairs width away from pulling a sicky. My best friend made me go.

The Date:

I stood in the freezing cold (underneath the Starbucks sign) and it was so windy that by the time I got inside I realised I’d taken the term ‘windswept and interesting’ to a whole new level, and instead of the sleek straight hair I’d left the house with, it now resembled Russell Brand on a bad hair day. When we first met I think I panicked because I turned continental and went for the kiss on each cheek deal. He was nice looking – clean shaven, baby face, blonde-haired-blue-eyed boy, sharply dressed; but I knew instantly that he wasn’t my type. He was so nervous, which I get, but it’s nice to have a guy take control of the situation (like they do in the old fashioned way) – so I was left to drive the conversation, open doors for myself and even find the bar area that our table was booked in – despite him making the reservation. I just knew, from the moment the date began – I was in for a long night.

centre point viewThe first tragedy was the choice of venue. He had chosen the bar at the top of Centre Point. It had a weird atmosphere, but a beautiful view of the city. At first I thought it was a good choice, however the problem arose after my first glass of wine. Apparently I have selective vertigo that only appears after consuming alcohol. I genuinely felt like the building was falling sideways, and the (once beautiful) City lights were taunting me, the dizzying heights were now making me extremely nauseous. Alcohol and heights – don’t mix.

The second thing came midway through the date. After the glass of wine had taken it’s toll and I could no longer bear to look outside the glass windows, I had to spend more time making eye contact and the likes. It was then, and only then, that I realised, my burst of French cheek kissing earlier on in the date had left a slight lipstick like mark on the side of his face, and I could NOT stop looking at it, but it had been long enough that I felt far too awkward to point it out! So in true British fashion, I didn’t say anything. And there it remained the entire evening, because of my selfishness. I felt awful afterwards, I can only imagine how he felt when he got home and saw it!

The third downfall was the fact there was absolutely NO chat whatsoever. From the word go, I had to take the date steering wheel as it were, so conversation was on me. Luckily, I can talk for England, but him nodding in agreement at everything I said, left several awkward pauses as I racked my brain for a new topic to think of, which wasn’t the weather, tea or how I couldn’t believe that it was nearly March already. I mean, I wasn’t asking for a political debate or anything but, surely there’s got to be some difference in points of view right? Otherwise I’d be better off just dating myself!

The date dragged tragically and the pauses in between got longer and longer. I was fortunate for an excuse to leave, my sister called me with a genuine semi emergency – she had been locked out and needed a place to stay (mine). I mean, okay maybe emergency is the wrong word, and there were other ways to resolve the situation but – it was too perfect an excuse to give up. He graciously paid for our over priced drinks and we parted ways amicably, and I thanked god that the torturous evening was over. I was under the impression that the feelings were mutual but a text came the next day asking when we should set the second date up for. I’d rather not put myself through that pain again – we clearly just weren’t matched!

Daisy’s Date Rate:


Centre point was beautiful at first but the heights get to you, the surroundings are slightly awkward and the place has a weird vibe. Or maybe that was just the hideous situation that was me and my date.

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