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Dating Disaster

By BuffaloBill

19 January 2007

This isn’t a very nice story, I’m afraid, so I’ll apologise in advance.

When I was young I played football for a local amateur side in Manchester. The team was an important part of the club to which it was attached and it was considered a real honour to be invited to be a part.

We players were expected to take our responsibilities seriously. This involved turning up at various social functions including stuff like Bingo nights and jumble sales which we young lads found very boring. One night, at a stuffy dinner dance, a few of us had rather too much to drink to help pass the time and I was in a bit of a state as the end of the night approached. At a nearby table was a group of girls, vaguely known to us and one of them, Irene, was not the best-looking girl in the world. In my drunken state I decided that I should tell her so and, egged on by my friends, wandered over and explained, nicely I thought, that although she was probably a very nice girl, she had a face that would frighten a police horse. Irene took exception to this and stood up and slapped me right across the face. I retaliated by punching her in the stomach and mayhem ensued, leading to me being thrown out. When I’d sobered up I was thoroughly ashamed of myself and dreaded ever seeing the poor girl again. However, a couple of weeks later, she was in my local pub and I decided to bite the bullet and apologise. To her eternal credit, she was really nice about the whole thing, forgave me instantly and asked that I take her out one night to make it up to her. Now I was in a quandary. Did I refuse, citing the fact that she looked like a Halloween pumpkin on a stick and risk upsetting her again, or agree to go on a date with a very unattractive girl? I chose the more gallant option and set the rendezvous for the following Saturday night.

The appointed time arrived and Irene suggested that we go to the pictures. This was before the advent of MultiPlex cinemas on retail parks in the suburbs and we headed towards Deansgate in central Manchester. People were actually staring at Irene as we walked along the road, some of the more uncouth lads (as if I can call anyone uncouth!) making rude comments about her looks as they passed.

As we stood outside a cinema reading the film adverts an old tramp turned up claiming that he knew me and demanding that I repay the money I’d borrowed from him and he followed us down the road bellowing abuse for a while before collapsing into a doorway for a well-earned nap after all his hard work shouting at innocent passers-by.

By now all I wanted was to get Irene somewhere dark where she couldn’t be seen so I lengthened my stride, just answering “Yeah” and “Mmm” to her inane chatter and then I noticed that the pointless noise in my ear had ceased. I turned to see what had happened and there was Irene, leaning on a lamppost holding her stomach. My first thought was thought I’d punched her again, but I went back anyway to see what was wrong, then wished that I hadn’t when she said “I think I’ve just come on my period.” What was until then a bad night was rapidly becoming one of the worst ever.

After we’d been into a Pizzaland where she asked one of the assistants to lend her some “ladies things”, the only thing for us to do was to turn round and get the bus back to her house which is where I left her and made my way, alone, to the pub to meet my friends and, I’m ashamed to admit, laugh about what had happened.

I’m well aware that this tale doesn’t show me in a particularly good light and the conclusion doesn’t make me look any better. Irene ‘phoned me to ask about the possibility of doing it all again one night and I agreed to take her for a drink, this time to our local . The night went as well as could be expected until another girl caught my eye and smiled at me. She and I flirted for most of the night and eventually she sent her friend over to ask if I’d like to take her home. To my never-ending shame I said “Yes”, made some surreptitious arrangements and at closing time, walked off with my new girlfriend, leaving Irene crying and alone.

Being nineteen at the time, it didn’t take long for me to get over the effects of this episode, but I don’t know about Irene because, of course, I never bothered to check.

Ladies, do your worst with your reviews!

Reviews

Written by Snodlander (507 comments posted) 19th January 2007

For my own work, I am hopeless with titles. But how about renaming this to 'Courting Disaster'.

I'm here all week. Try the veal.

Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 19th January 2007

I am torn between admiring you for your honesty and wanting to slap you across the face after punching you in the stomach.

But I recall that when I was nineteen, I once went out with a boy -- a very plain one -- and flirted with his more attractive friend. I still don't know why I did this. I am notoriously inept when it comes to flirting and my behavior was entirely out of character. But I did it, so you might want to punch me in the stomach. Every time I remember that incident, I feel like punching myself in the stomach.

It bothers me that ugliness tends to be more acceptable in men than in women. An ugly woman is scorned by both women and men, the object of ridicule. An ugly man may not have an easy time of it, but is nevertheless not compelled to try and modify his appearance in hopes that he may make himself more attractive and thus be treated well, or even loved, by others.

Written by Snodlander (507 comments posted) 19th January 2007

You think men are not under pressure to conform to an ideal shape, especially in these days when it's acceptable to drool over firemen calendars?

I think the difference is, men hide it better. And if I knew then...

Attractiveness, I'm convinced, is less to do with looks and more to do with attitude. There are plenty of women that are considered attractive, but that aren't lookers. One of the sexyist women I've seen was Bette Middler in her one-woman show. And have you ever looked at Madonna's face?

I think men just have a better front, if you pardon the expression. There are notable exceptions. At the risk of being 'Jaded', there's the whole tradition of the sexy big black mama.

That said, certain behaviour is unattractive, even if performed by an Adonis.

Written by BuffaloBill (25 comments posted) 19th January 2007

Thanks, Witzl (I think!)
When you're 19, beauty is most definitely skin deep and the problem with going out with an ugly girl is that your mates wouldn't approve. I've grown up a bit since then, I'm pleased to say and I realise now that the phrase "She's got a lovely personality" is not just a polite way of saying "She looks awful."
And I wish I'd thought of your title, Snod.

Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 19th January 2007

Don't worry, Bill: I am a wimp and have never punched or even slapped one of my kids, and believe me, the temptation has been strong.

When I was 19, I was much admired and sought-after. Decades later, I'm still working on the lovely personality, but I'm nevertheless a tremendous improvement on my 19-year-old self. I don't get wolf whistles anymore, but I can live with that.

My daughters enrage me by referring to men and boys (never women or girls) as either 'ugly' or 'hot/cute.' They would castigate any man who used the word 'ugly' to describe a woman, so their double standards do not impress me at all. I sometimes wonder if they are trying to redressd what they see as an imbalance.

Written by Phil (6838 comments posted) 20th January 2007

Honest and open piece - an easy read. I think we need a site priest to open a confessional. Perhaps we've all done things we'd rather not admit to - all credit for sharing. Maturity does nothing if not cause embarrassment of the past.

Phil.

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