There are 5 of us girls and a guy living together in a student digs. You’re welcome to feel sympathy for the solitary lad, or envious of him – bearing in mind that that lad is Ivan. From my earlier post, you’ll have gathered preparation for a date is necessary, even if not elaborate. Prep for this date went as follows:
Bridget to all the housemates: Do any of you have something for me to borrow for tomorrow night’s date?
Ivan: You can borrow something of mine.
Bridget: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get into your pants.
Ivan: Damn right?!
A little nervous for a real dinner date at a pretty fancy restaurant, I arrived in a dress, make up on, hair straightened and with the secret comfort of a friend close at hand. You see, with the decision given to me to choose a restaurant, it seemed all too easy to suggest the one where a friend waitresses. During the date, the blog and what would end up on it was discussed, although I’m assuming that this little insight will be a little surprising? And with that, I realise I’ve just turned into the cliché type of a girl who doesn’t go to the bathroom alone. One consoling factor for the slight spy-age: I got a message saying, ‘Ooo, yummy’ mid-meal.
When the restaurant’s guest book arrived for us to sign (see I told you it was fancy), I simply wrote, ‘A great place for a blind date’.
And indeed it was a great place and a great blind date.