Brilliant, no? Completely inspired and uttered to my actual friend by an actual man she went on a date with a couple of weeks ago. My friend has been delving on and off into the internet sea of availables for some time now as she, like a lot of people, found that trying to find someone to be with down the local pub gave her an impressive list of beer bellies, wasters and squaddies to choose from.
Shamelessly, I'm now about to let you in to her world of internet dating - she agreed of course - because luckily, she finds all this as hilarious as I do. If she didn't, I'd probably have been axed some time ago for conduct unbecoming of a best friend as I wiped tears of laughter off my face following another post-date-night phonecall. For her privacy, I will let her remain anonymous. She's definitely not called Jen, and I assure you, she looks nothing like this lovely lady to the right.
Non-Jen's not had a massive amount of luck with internet dating. As she's a bit quirky, a lot nerdy and enjoys a fairly dark sense of humour, she finds herself a magnet for every weirdo or socially-inept gargoyle on the net. She was once sent (no word of a lie) a carefully drafted, two page fantasy script wherein a man explained in explicit detail the ways in which he would like to wee on her. Most people would inevitably find this disturbing and creepy. I have no doubt that non-Jen did also, but still - she printed the whole thing off and brought it to the pub so we could take it in turns spitting our drinks out and choking with laughter while we read it.
After a brief recess, non-Jen resurfaced on her dating site of choice a few weeks ago, only to begin chatting to a man who was so impressive on paper, she couldn't refuse a drink. Extraordinarily intelligent with a great job, he obviously also passed the obligatory sense-of-humour test and didn't immediately bleep on her massive-weirdo-radar. So, mobile numbers having been exchanged, non-Jen set out into a busy Oxford night and settled herself in the agreed cocktail bar to wait for Mr Awesome. The meet-time was 7pm and by 7.20 non-Jen was already on her second drink - a rather expensive Rum-based cocktail. Finally joining her over half an hour late, Mr Awesome swept in and after giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he proceeded to chug down half of her drink before going to the bar to get his own. As he departed the table, he turned and gave her a double-handed gun shoot with his fingers (it's at this point in the story, I developed an image of this guy as Gaston out of Disney's Beauty and the Beast.)
Admirably, non-Jen shook this off with the help of a positive attitude and quite a bit of Rum and hoped he was just nervous. Surely all that alleged awesomeness would reveal itself in the coming minutes. Upon his return, Mr A steered non-Jen towards a comfortable looking sofa and put his arm around her, stroking her shoulder - not making things at all uncomfortable during their first ever face-to-face conversation. Non-Jen relaxed a bit as they chatted and while he disappeared to the toilets, wondered if all was not lost after all.
"So, I have a question for you," he revealed, smiling as he sat back down. "It's one of those pop-psychology questions. Imagine there's this guy you really fancy. He's really hot, and you get on really well. You finally manage to get him back to your place. You can either go down on him, or he can go down on you. You can only choose one. Which one do you pick, and why?"
Now. Let's just read over that sentence again and revel in the sheer beauty of an absurdly inappropriate first-date quiz question. Had he rehearsed that on his way out of the door? Was it a dare? Or had his trip to the toilets simply got him thinking fondly about his penis and inspired him to pursue an opportunity?
Non-Jen had absolutely no idea how to answer this. At this point, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be taking things further than the one date with Mr A, and so told him she was exceptionally selfish and would expect to have her needs met first. Obviously not his favourite answer, but in no way discouraged, he continued to stroke non-Jen's shoulder, legs, FACE - seemingly confused about the differences between tactile behaviour with humans and dogs. As non-Jen attempted to drink herself into blissful oblivion, simultaneously begging her housemate via text to come and pick her up, Mr A, suavely asked her to rate herself between one and ten on a kissing scale, and eventually came out with the beautiful leg-dividing line I began with. He also told her he usually preferred long hair on his women - but that her bob was 'kind of cute'. Lucky for non-Jen, ey? What. A. Catch.
Thankfully, our girl managed to escape relatively unscathed, save for a need to shower and change. I will always have a fondness for Mr Awesome, who I imagine is right now giving himself the finger-guns in the mirror while Salt 'n' Pepper's Watta Man plays in the background.
Though I sympathise entirely, the plight of genuinely wonderful people like non-Jen, struggling to find someone decent to date, I'll also be very sad when she finds one. Real-life hilarity doesn't come along very often and so for the sake of my amusement and blogging fodder, I encourage all of you weirdos to give non-Jen a call immediately.
*Winks seductively*
*Finger-guns*
