So it seems that some people are eagerly awaiting my next disastrous date story, I can assure you, you will take great pleasure in how awkward this one was. It may surprise a few of you that this date is number two on the countdown and not number one, but upon reflection the one I have chosen to be the most horrific massively outweighed this one.
Chronologically, this date was after the other two, so just when I thought I was over the bad dates this one happened. Now, if you live in Coventry you will know the nightlife is somewhat limited, so I will appreciate no judgments on the landmarks mentioned in this (sarcastic half smile face emoji) and remember being single in Coventry is not, I repeat not a Cinderella ideal. By this is mean that everyone in Coventry knows everyone, we are not a small city but everyone you meet will either know your friend, know your friends friend or have already slept with half of the city (possibly including your friends and/or your friends friend).
Believe me with minimum effort you can find someone you know who will know everything about a potential love interests past and present. Usually this is a massive help as you can learn to stay away before you foolishly give your phone number out then have to deal with calls from withheld numbers at 1am for the next six months. However, I know some of you will read this thinking I am cynical, that the downside to listening to other peoples opinions on someone you don’t know can completely cloud your judgement resulting in potentially miss out on someone you could have clicked with. But let’s be honest, usually it’s the former that turns out to be true, so I had given up men from Coventry.
Date number two on my countdown is my “perfect on paper- awful on CD date” – a highlight to most who know me as you will read towards the end of the tale of woe.
On the night I met date number two I was outside the highlight of Coventry’s nightlife “JJ’s” (again I ask you to reserve judgement). It was about half one and due my refusal to even attempt to speak to men in Coventry anymore (the week previously I met a “nice” bloke whose wife took great pleasure in messaging me at 9am the next morning to say “I’ve just found your number in my husband’s phone and a text to you at 3am saying he can’t wait to take you out, he wished he kissed you and you are mint – but he is married to me with three kids so he won’t be taking you anywhere”) I was standing outside watching one of my mate wrap up a conversation with another gorm who was potentially married with children and just out to play, all I wanted was chips, cheese and mayo and I would of considered the night a success. As I was waiting a regular looking man came over, for the record he was wearing REGULAR jeans and a REGULAR checked shirt (what he was wearing is important for later) and he asked me where was best to get food.
He was tall, thin but toned, paler than I’d like but he was a nice looking bloke, and had a soft Scottish accent. Again, if you know me you can imagine the face I pulled when he was talking like I was a minute behind on some sort of delay trying to pick out words I understood and figuring out the whole sentence. He said he was from somewhere in Scotland and was now living just outside Nuneaton, he was a web developer or something internetty, he hadn’t long moved from Chester or somewhere else far away and was out with a lad he knew from uni who was seeing a girl from Coventry. This was music to my “bored of Coventry” ears, he had the most vague connections to Coventry and there was no way anyone I knew would know him. (Looking back if they had it would have saved me the trouble – but as it is no one did, so I didn’t know what I would have know and so we have this story).
We exchanged numbers, he was the perfect gentlemen, helped me hobble over the cobbles of Spon Street as I showed him to the chippy, told me to put my shoes back on incase I caught diseases off the manky cold floor and after I left he sent a nice text saying he was glad he went out even if he spent all night watching his mate argue with his girlfriend as he met me….bless him.
After a few days of texting we arranged a coffee one lunch-time, which always annoys me as I don’t drink hot drinks and when it’s the middle of winter and you are ordering a coke in a coffee shop you are actually judged. Anyway, the casual date went well, as did the dinner date we went on the following week. The good part about having the two jobs was that you quickly see who was in the dating for the sort term, I was actively looking for a relationship, so waiting two weeks to see someone was ok for me, I could make sure they were really interested before wasting my time and we still maintained contact with texts and a phone call every few days. On paper (so to speak) Matthew was perfect, he was an open book, told me about past relationships and about his family. He spoke fondly of everyone with no malice or grudges held against anyone and seemed to enjoy his busy work schedule and was ambitious. He had no mental exes or children that he had abandoned and he liked me. What could go wrong?
I mentioned previously how unsociable my hours of work were, and its only just occurred to me at this point I haven’t gave this one a name! Due to the fact I am one million percent certain that no one will know him, I think I can use his real name, which was Matthew. So Matthew had asked me out for dinner one Friday night but I was at work until midnight, the only thing I could offer as I was concerned he was about to get very fed up of being told I was too busy, was that on Saturday night I was finishing at eleven, but we would have to go for a drink as it would be too late for dinner. He then said he would be happy to pick me up from work and cook for me and maybe I could stay over. Now, on one side I was thinking “hmmm cooking dinner at his house at eleven at night ” (teeth baring emoji) but the other side was won over by the nice bloke who had took me out twice, dealt with my work/life balance and was still interested in seeing me. So I agreed.
At eleven he picked me up from work and off we went to his house. As I remember I text two friends his address in case I didn’t return and gave his number to them aswell. I like to be safe (crying laughing emoji) and I had no problem telling him I was doing this – bizarrely I think he found my obsession with everyone being a potential serial killer endearing (sort of makes sense later).
His house was lovely, all original beams and open plan, clean and tidy, he had made me a cheese-pasta based dinner which is my favourite. We ate and chatted and me being the gorm I was on the hunt for a relationship dropped the fantastic line which I think saved me in this situation as the entire night could of gone differently else, “have you got any pain killers I have the worst period pains”.
Now you might think I was either evil for getting him to come all that way in the middle of the night then cooking just to drop the “nothing’s happening tonight mate” killer line but in all honest, whilst the line was a lie, I really wasn’t feeling it, I had just topped off my working week after being at work all day on a stupid twelve hour shift, I got ready in the work toilet and spray tanned my legs on the floor by my desk with my head set on, which resulted in me staining the new floor tiles (this would be a hand over eyes monkey emoji if I actually cared about the floor at my then job, as it was it’s more appropriate to use the crying laughing emoji as I was only doing my spray tan in the actual call centre as I was concerned the smoke detector might go off in the toilets if I did it in there).
To be fair he took it fine, he was sweet and got me tablets then we watched a dvd and went to bed. I was straight out like a light, again anyone who knows me will know I love sleep above all else (including a casual nap) and when I woke up I still thought Matthew was lovely, but had started to think that maybe we had no spark. His house was lovely, he had a nice bedroom, a guest room set up all in white (standard bachelor spare room with no pictures up and just a bed in with an ironing board against the wall) he had an office in the loft conversion with a desk full of paperwork, different bits pinned up on the noticeboard, photos of friends and family, clients business cards scattered around. Totally normal again and if I’m honest I thought he was slightly dull. He had mentioned his ex had mentioned he needed more hobbies, more spark but that he was happy as he was. We had breakfast and I noticed he was being a bit off. He wasn’t particularly vile but he was definitely in a mood and not the same as the night before.
He offered me a lift as soon as I wanted to go, which I took instantly. I only have one day off a week I was eager to get back to get my daughter and certainly wasn’t going to waste my time with someone being a drip (if I’m honest I thought he was fumes that I hadn’t slept with him which just proved to me I was right for using my pain killer line) an so we left.
In the car he put his cd player on the C-Lo Black song “forget you” started up and I couldn’t help but realise how far away this journey was from the one last night when the radio was on low and it was peaceful drive across the city in the dark. Now it was the cold light of day on a gloomy Sunday morning and the music was turned up loud and I realised it was actually the explicit version of the song that’s actually “fuck you” rather than the former mentioned version. I literally thought the journey could not get more awkward, I mean I haven’t slept with him, he’s now put this on and is singing along with extreme venom in his voice to a song with the line “I’m sorry I don’t drive a Ferrari but that don’t mean I can’t get you there” as he drives me home in an old matchbox car…
As you can imagine I have never wanted to get out of a car more and when I thought it couldn’t get worse- it did. I was looking out the window feeling awkward after the karaoke I had just witnessed which I can pretty much guarantee was at least partially aimed at me, when the track finally finished. I was hoping for something a bit lighter when the next tract started, I didn’t recognise the song at all but it wasn’t my sort of music, so after a few verses I made polite conversation (again I probably had a look on my face that portrayed exactly what I was thinking) and asked what song it was, to which Matthew replied with his eyes set firmly on the road holding the steering wheel with both hands and replied “It’s called I want to split you in two”. My instinct was to ask if there was anything else on the CD, he skipped to the next track and when I again asked what this one was he replied that it was Marilyn Manson. I am not saying that there is anything massively wrong with his choice in music, but I felt it was an inappropriate track list and he was looking exactly how the music sounded – angry and annoyed. I asked if there was anything on it I’d like and that when the fateful line that haunts my life and the reason I’ve been terrorised repeatedly by my friends since. His reply was simply this;
“This is my angry sex CD”
I was lost for words, I decided to just not speak while I tried to process this sentence, we got to mine I said bye and got out and still wasn’t sure what to make of it all. I mean what is an angry sex CD? Did he buy it or make it? When he picked me up the night before we had radio one on, was he not in the mood for angry sex then? What had put him the mood for angry sex that morning? Had I made him angry? So many questions were swirling in my head then he text me, below is the gist of the texts…( I apologise if this offends anyone- now is the time to stop reading if you are like I was sheltered to the world of angry sex CDs and worry you may be mentally scarred)
Matthew: I’m sorry I think you are a really nice girl but I don’t think we should see each other again
Me: Oh OK, I mean I won’t lie I prefer to listen to Britney but I wasn’t going to hold your taste in music against you…
Matthew: it’s not that Amy, I just think we are into different things and the things that I would want to do with you I know you wouldn’t do and I don’t want us to settle for less than what we really want
(I’m a bit annoyed now thinking hold on mate you don’t know me enough to decide what I would or wouldn’t do)
Me: OK well that’s fine but I don’t exactly understand what it is you think I wouldn’t do? I don’t want you to assume I’m a prude because I didn’t sleep with you last night. I might be fine with what you like – it’s not a conversation we’ve had
Matthew: Amy, honestly you’re a lovely girl but you wouldn’t– trust me.
Me: Well tell me what it is then
Matthew: well like S&M- google this (then sent a bizarre website which I did not look on)
Me: No just tell me
Matthew: OK, like tying you up, using sex toys on until you cry, hitting you until you pass out whilst having sex with you- that sort of thing
Me: Yea you’re right that’s not my sort of thing. But surely when you met me you didn’t think I was like that?
Matthew: No I was pretty sure you weren’t and thought I could just be normal with you but I look at you and still want to do all that stuff and I could never even ask you to, so it’s best we leave it here.
Me: yea, you are right.Sorry.
Whilst this conversation has probably made you laugh or potentially horrified you, I was literally like “ah well” and carried on with normal life. It wasn’t until I made the mistake of telling people that I realised how bizarre it all was. I told a few friends over dinner one night, we had also been discussing The Human Centipede and they were quick to make the link to me becoming part of a similar experience if Matthew had decided to lock me in his closet and keep me until he found another victim. Another friend was quick to ask why I didn’t spot it straight away, when I asked why she explained that surely he was wearing a long black cloak when I met him and had make up and dog collar on (which as you remember I pointed out earlier he was dressed normally and I met him outside Jaks- not a sex dungeon).
After all the jokes and fears over the danger I could have been in, I still stand one million percent by the fact I was always safe, he never made me feel threatened or pressured and once he realised I was definitely not his type of girl he told me and I didn’t hear from him again.
I did learn a few lessons though, mainly that just because someone isn’t from Coventry doesn’t mean they are normal and that the familiarity of everyone knowing everyone is sometimes something we should value.
For anyone interested, I never found out if he made the angry sex CD himself or if it was playlist that everyone who had angry sex has access to, but I’m sure you could find one if what Matthew is in to is really what you secretly are also into. Also, if anyone else went out with someone who had an angry sex CD please tell me it – to comfort me that I am not alone in this!
The number one spot on my awful dates will follow shortly- and I swear it really is the most awful date you can imagine EVER!