Dateless in Liversedge

My sole aim for the week was to get a date. How hard can that be? Well, dear reader, I hope you will concur that I could not have tried much harder...

It was my weekend with small boy which slightly curtailed my activities so I decided to visit Eureka with him on Sunday – the hotbed of single dads. Ben liked it a lot and called it Ulrika. The highlight of the day was when we went onto the railway platform adjacent to Ulrika and was invited onto a train by a Peter Kay sound-alike to ‘look at his train’. After a cheery wave, he departed for Manchester.

After allowing my parents the sheer joy of looking after a hyperactive four year old for the night, I met my gorgeous ex from 20 years ago. He picked me up in his tranny van and we went to the local Italian for the Early Bird. En route he purchases a bottle of wine from Londis so I knew the night would be good.

We were shown to a large table for four so I was directed to a seat opposite him. After all, he wouldn’t want people to think we were actually ‘together’.

Once back at his house, the rather large and jealous female Alsatian dog sits between us all night. ‘She really likes you’ he says. I come home covered in doggy dribble.

We also have differing senses of humour – I was giggling like a loon on ITV3 at Mr Bean – the one where he is on the diving board and then the one where he drives out of the car park in the green mini without paying. I am chuckling like a schoolgirl but he never laughs once. I don’t outstay my welcome and phone a taxi at 10pm, hoping to leave him wanting more.

Monday – a double date, firstly at the local Christian play gym – yes I am a good girl at heart. A geriatric, married 60 year old plonks himself next to me and that was about it so in the evening I decided to meet old faithful Bald Football Head from the gym.

As I entered the Spinning Class, I failed to notice the ‘we are having problems with our YEDL supply’ so I endured a Spinning Class in complete darkness with only a multicoloured flashing disco bulb at the rear. Rather like an illegal rave in a warehouse in 1993 on exercise bikes.

No sign of Bald Football Head but it is black so I can’t actually see anyone. Sit down with my sweat towel (ok it’s one of Ben’s old terry towelling nappies but who knows)? At the end we all file out blindly and Football Head is in front with a new girl and pretends not to see me. Didn’t fancy you anyway Shiny Red Football Head.

Other action – the only friend request this week on FB was from a dog. An actual dog.

Tuesday – Single Dad braves it back to the shop. We make polite small talk. ‘Good weekend?’ I ask. ‘Interesting’ he says. He also comes to shop on Friday but I was at DDH having my head scanned as I have hormone problems with my pituary gland. He doesn’t need to know this at this stage.

Saturday - gets huge bunch of flowers at shop - only problem they were from Numpty who I certainly don't want to re-acquaint with again.

So sod it, Saturday night, I had a fab night out with my friend and her family. We had curry and champagne in the local Indian and then to t’club for cheap drinks and a dance. Average age 61 but bearing in mind I had to check my phone next day to see what time I phoned the taxi, it must have been good evening.

Pray for better action this week please. Plastic Peg from the Sun today said ‘Aries you will have love visiting at 7pm this evening’. F**ker didn’t turn up.

PS – not my copy, I am a Daily Mail reader – The Sun was borrowed.