I know, I know - why was I here underneath the old clock tower again? Putting myself up for the inevitable rejection. Red lipstick, tight clothes, my favourite perfume slathered over my neck and wrists I swear you could smell me from round the corner. It had taken 2 weeks to get ready for tonight, including washing, waxing arggg, preening and clothes shopping. If I spent this long on any future dates then my pension would be here before my longed for soulmate was found.

I arrived 10 minuets early so I could practice my perfect pose, the first time he saw me could make or break the night and the rest of my at present lonely frozen meals for 1 life. I had purchased the highest sexiest heels I could stumble along in. My just below the knee pencil skirt clung to my slimmed down thighs and stopped just under the knee. Gone were the days of  “Helen can you see my knickers? Yeah ok it’s this one for Saturday night then.” Next came the Straightening of my unmanageable curly hair. And for what? It had now started to rain and I was shivering in a cruel winter wind my beautiful straightened hair slapping my face and smearing my perfectly kissable ruby lipgloss Arrrgghh!

Everyone knows blind dates are horrendous. There is very little hope of finding Mr right. Mr idiot, Mr boring along with Mr aren’t I wonderful? are the ones I usually meet. Clutching a white carnation or a magazine to let me know whom I will be spending the evening with. Just in case I happened to get the wrong idea and think the hunky man standing in our chosen spot might just be waiting for me. Yeah right!  I must be one of those people who never learns a lesson. I mean I have spent enough time sitting alone, watching Cilla, curled up on my sofa laughing at how she tried to make a joke as last weeks prospective couple were now visibly restraining themselves from a full on fist fight. Slating one another over who was the rudest, ugliest etc, and how far they would go so they never had to see each other ever again. Poor Cilla I thought, no new hat for her. Every Saturday it was the same routine drinking a few large glasses of white Italian wine in my fluffy towelling robe. Eating dark forbidden chocolate, well with my thighs I should give it up! (But it feels so yummy caressing my throat) I forget the time might come when an unknown man will want to caress my over fed thighs. And what a shock he will get, when I have nipped to the bathroom and whipped off Gok Wans fat busting knickers!


But I’m not getting any younger, I’m 35, childless, single and spending to many nights playing bingo with my auntie. Desperation makes us do the strangest of things. Last year I recruited my youngest friend Nikki for help. Immediately she told me, full of kindness that I had to start a diet, (thoughts thighs again!) pluck my eyebrows and wax my legs. Get a haircut and streaks  (what’s wrong with long and parted down the middle and a muddy shade of brown? But I realise that’s what friends are for!) Then she made me my own page on Facebook (what?). I now have 103 friends (most of whom I have never met! and I am often getting poked by new people who want to talk to me.

I have been on 10 blind dates this year so far and its only March! Weekend after weekends have been wasted (apart from the free food and booze). But none of them are remotely close to being father /husband material .Am I downhearted? Me? No, I’m very grateful for the Internet, without whose help I would never have met Gary, who fixed my car. (strange grinding noise anyone?) And all he asked in return was some advice on washing clothes (sadly his mum had recently passed away and he still lived at home, age 30, men!). Then there was Paul, who kindly cleaned my gutters in exchange for a hot stew. Fair swap I thought, heights are not my forte but stewing any type of meat comes easily. They were the nicest men I met. The worst dates I had to sit through were these; first one with a supposedly clean living man, mid 30s ohac steady job you get the pic, tall dark and handsome gsoh. Yes please I thought sounds to good to be true and …It was, coz I ended up with a fifty six year old cigar smoking bald fat short man ,whos gsoh went adrift when I pointed out these small white lies :please read big gigantic whoppers! He started shouting in full view of the mediocre restaurant he suggested that we meet in, how I was an ungrateful young lady who should be flattered that he had turned up for our date, and he could see why I was still single and childless at my age because no man would put up with my rude thoughtless behaviour. He stood up started to cough and turn red fists clenched looking like he could become violent, all 5” of him! But still I ran and ran stilettos or not. 

 Next up I met harry. I like to call him halitosis Harry. How I wished I could have run but my swollen ankle, (see last date,) failed me. I had only managed to get there with the aid of a taxi pulling up directly outside, so I decided to move my chair away from the table a bit and spent the next hour leaning awkwardly backwards. Cue sore back next day as well as ankle. Happy ever after? How about battered, aching and swollen! And so on it went, date after hope crushing date.

But tonight was the big one. He got in touch on facebook. The photo he emailed me was a bit dark. Think night club and dodge phone camera .He was somewhat disappointed when I explained about my computer playing up, well I couldn’t send him any of the scary photos of me in the 80,s and they are the only ones I look half descent in! I really dreamt this could be it. We arranged to meet in town that very Saturday night.  My biological clock was ticking nearly as loud as the one I was standing under. As it struck 8 I scanned the square my eyes straining (no glasses tonight vanity wins). I could just see him striding my way, well dressed, clean-shaven! Bingo (see wot I mean?) My heart jumped up to 300 beats a minuet. Calm down and stop drooling I told myself. But when he got to 3 feet away, my slimmed down no chocolate for two months legs started to give way, woe girl nearly there I felt as if all the pain of the spinning, Pilate,s and yoga classes might just have been worth it.

“Hello Kate” he said as he took hold of my cold wet hands and smiled at me, his blue eyes stared into mine. ”You haven’t changed a bit”. Well not exactly a blind date, Actually my first love and they do say love is blind!