My Blind Date

Hey guys, so yesterday was a fun day for me, a friend set me up on a blind date, usually I can’t be bothered with blind dates as the only women who go on blind dates are boring as fuck, dried up old prunes, who lead lives less interesting than that of my last bowel movement.

My fear of blind dates comes mostly from experience, last year a friend had set me up with a girl he knew, just out of interest I decided to go. Anyway, he gave me her number, I called her, we chatted, and eventually we decided to meet by City Hall. When I got there, I sat on a bench and proceeded to text my blind date, I wrote the words, “I’m here, sitting beside some fat chick, hope to see you soon,” needless to say the phone I just texted belonged to the fat chick… I’ll let you guess what happened next. Incase you can’t guess, here’s a clue: HULK ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

However I owed this friend a favour so I went for him and I have to say, blind dates rock. You can stare at their tits all night long, pour salt on the table and tell them it’s braille and you can have a hell of a lot of fun directing them into the kitchen instead of the bathroom… I did that three times.

The third time all I heard from the kitchen were the words “Oh, for fuck sake! Not again!”

The night went pretty well despite my picking on her, I ended up back at hers, we spent the night together and I left in the morning…

I don’t think she’ll call me back though… Mostly because while she slept I moved her furniture around and put her phone in the kitchen sink…

I wonder how long it will take her to realise?

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Men like porn, who’d have known?

Today was a somewhat strange day for me, I went out for a meal with my girlfriend, it was mildly amusing and we talked of a great many things, well she talked of a great many things, I nodded and pretended I could “completely relate to that” and hit on the waitress when she wasn’t looking since I knew I wasn’t getting sex tonight, and quite frankly, I’ll be fucked If I’m going to pay over £100 for a two course meal and not fuck something at the end of it.

Anyway, we got onto some strange topics of discussion during the course of the meal, one topic being her wanting to understand my having a vast deal of pornography despite having her.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a topic of conversation that is what I like to know as a complete fucking minefield. I’m not just talking a regular minefield here, I’m talking a 30 year old death trap in some weird Asian European shit hole that has claimed the lives and limbs of over 300,000 small third world children despite the best efforts of a load of self-righteous aid workers. Now while that image is fucking hilarious, it is not fun to have to negotiate your way through this minefield on the rickety bike of male linguistic skills after 4 pints and an Irish coffee.

This is how the conversation went down:

“Why do you have so much porn when you can have sex with me?”
“Can I have sex 24 hours a day 7 days a week?”
“No, not quite, but it’s pretty close.”
“Well, that’s why I have porn… Porn’s there for me when you’re not”
“Wouldn’t you delete it?”
“I’m gonna go ahead and tell you that that happening is about as likely as you winning the Nobel Peace Prize.”
“Listen, I hate you having porn… It… Offends me a little.”

Needless to say the conversation ended in the ultimatum:

“Me or the porn” in more words.

I’m assuming you can guess what I chose since I’m sitting at home alone infront of this computer at 4 in the morning…

I guess I’m single again, but I’ll always have porn, porn doesn’t judge me, porn doesn’t force me to make decisions, porn doesn’t complain when I watch Big Butt Bonanza instead of hoovering.

…In hindsight, I should have just pretended to delete my porn, oh well, not that big a deal since I did get that waitresses number.