So with Valentines coming up I thought I would share a few chuckles with you. I know that the 14th Feb is a Marmite thing for people. Some say its a pile of commercialised nonsense and others love it and fully embrace the choccy and flowers thing.

For the record, I love it. I love any excuse to be a bit daft and show some love. That said love was not what I was feeling in my dedicated “DATE WEEK”

I was a widow, I was a mother with two young children and the loneliness of being without a grown up to share my life with was unbearable. I never ever intended to marry again, I was just looking to  share some stories over dinner with a fun chap whose reading age was greater than 10. (How little did I know how bloody tricky this would turn out to be!)

One afternoon after a few too many…… I came across match.com. I recommend being trés tipsy if you venture into such pastures…Dutch courage and all that!

I had a plan. Don’t judge me on my plan, or inform anyone official, or contact any medical professionals…..but I had a plan…. I would allow myself ONE  week to find a date.

Im sure, I was actually looking at my plan  to fail, if that makes any sense at all. I thought that,  if I have tried to venture out and they are all toss pots then I never need to do that again and I can just carry on being a widow and jobs a good’un.

After chatting to a few victims, I lined them all up for lunch and dinner dates in just one week. I was a busy mum and I didn’t have the time to faff about fawning over men. The kids and I sat down each morning and picked a few and went from there. I told my dad and my friends my plans of where and when I was going to be at certain times. I kid you not, this was a planned like a war campaign. Avocado Towers was dinner date command central.

So the dates themselves…. Some were boring, some were nice, but I don’t really like nice. There were a couple notable dates. A bona-fide nut job who had a bogey in his nose for the whole date. Shambles. Total shambles. There should be a rule for always checking for bogeys before commencement of a date!

Then there was the dwarf. Now on paper this dude fared very well. Made me laugh, seemed mentally stable, (unlike bogey man who was bats in the noggin) and he said he was tall.  That was my only physical trait that was important to me. I’m quite a hobbit and for some reason I have always loved tall men, I seem to enjoy permanently having neck ache.

So off I drove to a county pub to meet my lunch date. He told me he drove one of those huge Volvo 4×4 thingies. So I waited in the car park and saw him turn up. I got out of the car to say hello and across the car park his door opened and he jumped out, landing on the tarmac about half an hour later because HE WAS ONLY ABOUT 4 FEET TALL.

SHIT.

WITH A CHERRY ON TOP!

I stood there in shock, I promise I am not a ‘shortest person’ but when you like tall men and you’re expecting 6’1″ he was a HELL of a shock.

To make matters more interesting he then proceeded to “boing” across the car park, say hello, hug me and then put his head between my boobs and not come up for air for what seemed like and eternity.

SHIT.

WITH MORE CHERRIES.

So obviously the most sensible thing to do right there and then was scarper. However he was soooo happy and so excited and I didn’t have the heart to run just yet . We went into the pub, Sneezy, Grumpy and the rest stayed in the woods.

We sat down and ordered food  at which point I pootled off to the loo, phoned my buddy who was my go to human panic room and initiated operation bubonic plague. She rang me  back 5 minutes later to say my daughter was dying of said bubonic plague and I had to get back asap.

I did, with gusto. The dwarf was no more.

So that was one of the highlights except my last date. I actually cancelled my last date because I had given up and lost the will. I had decided all men were not worth the bother and I would fall in love with box sets instead.

However, the last date was funny, had gorgeous almond eyes and made me feel like me again. Oh and he was tall, 6’3 1/2″ to be precise and he made my neck ache.

So I married him. Worth the dwarfs and bogeys I would say.

So whether you think Valentines is a pile of tripe or you embrace it fully. I hope you have  someone who makes your neck hurt.

LOVE NANCY XXX