D-day - The First Date

First dates, for some they're the highly anticipated step into the beginnings of something wonderful but for most; they're torture. And although I breeze through things like public speaking and job interviews; when it comes to that first outing, I find myself a nervous mess. The more I like a guy, the more hellish the experience generally is.

Now it all starts out okay with the tentative phone call when he initiates some one on one time. This usually prompts me to excitedly call all of my girlfriends and gay friends to deliver the heart-stopping news and analyse everything from the restaurant he has chosen to the tone of voice he used.

But when I finally calm down enough to see the situation for what it actually is; that's when reality hits. Gulp. A first date. Suddenly the questions start firing away in my mind, starting with 'What to wear?' and ending with 'Can I go through with this?'

What if there's nothing to talk about? Should I go in for the kiss at the end? Should I offer to pay at the end of the date? All of these are valid and important things to think about but unfortunately there is no black and white when it comes to date etiquette, it's a very murky grey area and some don't make it through to the other side...

Even transport to and from the date is a dilemma. If this gorgeous specimen is a gentleman worthy of my affections he will pick me up and drop me home. If he doesn't have a car then he hasn't entered the real world yet. Either that or he's just not my type. I think that a guy should be able to take care of a girl and that usually includes picking me up from various parts of the city at 3am when I'm drunk and I've lost a shoe. If a boyfriend can't do that then honestly how am I supposed to rely on him for anything?

So while I'm waiting around for him to arrive, it's usually make or break time. I say this because it's when I have my phone out, ready to text and say that I've fallen ill and will have to cancel. Technically this isn't a lie. Why? Well I'm hyperventilating and these so-called 'butterflies' romance novels talk about are not butterflies but more a herd of stampeding wild animals. My stomach is twisted into a knot and I'm starting to regret I ever agreed to the bloody date. Taking a deep breath I call a couple of numbers on my speed dial to calm down and talk me back into this seemingly innocent rendezvous, getting me back on track and ready to go through with it.

Now moving on to the small talk. I have no trouble in building rapport and melting an ice queen if need be, but when on a date, this little trick up my sleeve is nowhere to be seen. I say the most random, weird and nonsensical things, leaving my date bewildered and me mouthing expletives to myself the minute his back is turned.

Conversation aside, another thing to worry about is food. Not the quality or quantity, but they way it enters your mouth and the possibility of a few morsels clinging to your chompers. You don't want to eat something that proves to be too messy.

A perfect example of this is bruschetta. So delicious yet so deadly. You can't take one mouthful of this dangerously alluring entrée without half the contents piled up on the bread dripping down your hand and the rest splattered across your face. A recipe for disaster; literally.

I like to stick to simple things like chicken with veggies- hold the salad. I had a bad experience once... The likelihood of finding a green foreign object wedged between your teeth is not just an old wives tale; it actually happens. There I was smiling away and yet every time I flashed my pearly whites he would almost gag. A trip to the ladies and I too, gagged when I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Trying to return to the table and act as if nothing had happened was mortifying. Needless to say, there was no date number two...

But food and conversation aside the most awkward thing is the first kiss. I find it hard to be serious in most situations, so when a man tries to seductively lean over and get physical, I have to all but pinch my leg to stop myself from erupting into a fit of laughter. Most guys think it's an endearingly cute thing and that perhaps I'm shy. Maybe I am, but mostly it's just awkward. It gets even more awkward when he realises that this giggling is not going to stop unless he does. Way to go me.

So there you have it, a date full of uncomfortable silences, strange behaviour, a battle with the menu and trying to act calm and collected yet failing abysmally. At the end of it all I can't help but kick off my heels, pour a glass of red and get ready to call my girlfriend for an in depth chat to laugh and cringe over the details. And although it's been another disaster and my nerves are frazzled, nothing beats the feeling when I go to get my phone and see a little text message pop up from my boy 'had a great time, sweet dreams and c u soon :)' oh dear, get ready for round two!