"Coyness is nice."
This 'coy' lass from Billingham is by far the closest friend I have made from my many forays into internet dating. We're still very much in contact and see each other on a fairly regular basis, mainly to stalk the wonderful Adam Buxton at BUG from the front row, which he hosts at the BFI every couple of months. The great man himself even commented at one of the November 2010 shows how we both looked very cool in our almost matching thick, black rimmed glasses; so he's clearly on to us.
After a number of very enjoyable dates, I decided that we'd be better off as friends and we still get on really well almost 2 years later.
Probably the most explosive and entertaining incident to occur during one of our dates happened one evening when we were sitting outside a bar on Charing Cross Road having a drink and a smoke on an absolutely freezing cold night. We were deep in conversation when a severely pissed up city boy/Essex lad, not very resplendent in a grey suit and matching waistcoat, and heavily resembling the maverick snooker player Ronnie O'Sullivan, launched himself at our table to acquire a lighter without so much as a please or thank you. We just stared at him as he tried to light his cigarette without any luck, then forcibly tossed said lighter back onto our table claiming it was broken. He then walked off and I breathed a sigh of relief only for my companion to shout back at him that his flies were undone, which they actually were. He then stormed back to our table demanding a working cigarette lighter, and then grabbed my ladyfriend's bag on his ultimately fruitless quest for a tiny, hand-held flame. A very minor struggle ensued and when he'd realised that he wasn't going to get what he wanted, he proceeded to clear our table by smashing our drinks and ash tray onto the ground. Then, to top things off he drunkenly stumbled off up the street shouting back at me over and over that I was a fucking c*nt, which I was simply aghast at, having not said a word to him during the whole altercation! If only he'd taken the time to get to know me better.
After a number of very enjoyable dates, I decided that we'd be better off as friends and we still get on really well almost 2 years later.
Probably the most explosive and entertaining incident to occur during one of our dates happened one evening when we were sitting outside a bar on Charing Cross Road having a drink and a smoke on an absolutely freezing cold night. We were deep in conversation when a severely pissed up city boy/Essex lad, not very resplendent in a grey suit and matching waistcoat, and heavily resembling the maverick snooker player Ronnie O'Sullivan, launched himself at our table to acquire a lighter without so much as a please or thank you. We just stared at him as he tried to light his cigarette without any luck, then forcibly tossed said lighter back onto our table claiming it was broken. He then walked off and I breathed a sigh of relief only for my companion to shout back at him that his flies were undone, which they actually were. He then stormed back to our table demanding a working cigarette lighter, and then grabbed my ladyfriend's bag on his ultimately fruitless quest for a tiny, hand-held flame. A very minor struggle ensued and when he'd realised that he wasn't going to get what he wanted, he proceeded to clear our table by smashing our drinks and ash tray onto the ground. Then, to top things off he drunkenly stumbled off up the street shouting back at me over and over that I was a fucking c*nt, which I was simply aghast at, having not said a word to him during the whole altercation! If only he'd taken the time to get to know me better.
