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So, speed dating.
Yeah.
Listen, I know you're probably thinking that I didn't make any effort or turned up like some scruffy
stush screwface but I didn't. I smiled a lot, I was very nice to everyone in equal measure, I made all of them laugh. I didn't wear trainers. That's deep. That's
effort.But it was
sooooooooooooooooo dry. God, it was dry.
I don't even have any funny or embarrassing stories to tell. Except for the fact that I arm-wrestled one of them, forced another to dance, asked a guy from Oxford why he had such a strong (FAKE) cockney accent even though he'd lived in London for five minutes and then made a French dude speak in his best cockney accent for my own amusement (and sanity), it was a totally nondescript and stupidly average night.
My friend hated it too. Actually she'd been saying "Let's sack it off, let's sack it off..." since 4pm. I think "Let's sack it off" is slang for "Do you mind if we don't go?" in
Banbury. After it ended, she said she felt dirty. I don't think she likes me anymore.
When I got home, I had a lovely message from one of the randoms.
Hello Josephine How are you doing? Im still not decided about you. I would like to meet up again for a tea and some stimulating conversation? Do you know how to use a telephone? My number is ************. This is the number you type into the phone to talk to other people who also have mobile phones. Get in touch and let us know Speak soon Geoffrey X
That kind of sums up the whole evening. I don't reckon I'll be keeping in touch.