Another weekend and another dreaded date organised by the dating agency from hell was fast approaching. By this stage I’d given up expecting any of these dates to go well but I was still putting my best foot forward and my best foot was normally shod in 4 inch hand made fire engine red heels. As it turned out this guy was actually quite attractive, not my type thank god because when he opened his mouth the sexy exterior didn’t make up for the verbal diarrhoea.
Basically the first words out of his mouths where how he didn’t date fat chicks he had only agreed to meet me because Carman had personally asked him to do it so the company could meet its contractual obligations. He then went on to ask me if I thought he had any chance of getting it on with Carmen, wasn’t she just the perfect babe, like if she looked that hot in cloths imagine how awesome she would be in the sack and so on and so forth. Having never met the woman in person I have no idea what she looked like but if she was built and dressed anything like Marry my original consultant when she interviewed this guy then I’m guessing she was cross between hooker and looker.
He then started babbling about how he’d been fat and wasn’t he totally amazing since he got thin, how he wasn’t going to work till he cracked the modelling industry (that was never going to happen he wasn’t that sexy). He then went on to tell me all about his relationship that had broken up because he’d got fat and how that had motivated him to get thin again. How he’d decided dating women was better they were less judgmental than his ex-boyfriend had ever been and so on and so forth.
By this time my eyes had glazed over and I was mentally doing other things like planning what to send my nephews for Christmas. At some point I tuned back in and he was babbling on about working in a pet shop and how it was his job to clean the cages and how when you have to worm the animals all this poo comes out of them and it looks like spaghetti and meat sauce.
Since I couldn’t get this guy to shut up I asked the cafe staff for the the key and directions to the lady’s room with the intention of running away afterward. Didn’t quite work out that way he followed me to the bathroom and was waiting for me when I came out of the ladies room. I seriously thought about turning around and going back inside and climbing out the window to escape but the ladies room is unfortunately on the second floor of the building above the cafe and a fitted skirt and 4 inch heels are not the easiest thing to climb out a window and shimmy down a drain pipe in. So I ended up going back to the coffee shop with him and after 3 more coffees and 2 hours later I was busting to pee so once again I asked the staff for the key but this time as i collected it I told the waiter to send one of the girls up in a couple of minutes to collect the key.
After I peed I cracked the door opened and listened and sure enough I could here Mr Verbal Diarrhoea chatting to the waitress as they came up the stairs toward the bathrooms. At this point my fight or flight instinct took over and since running down the stairs would mean going past them I took the only other options I had I cracked open the window, checked no one was below and drooped my beloved 4inch fire engine red heels out the window, climbed out the window and then shimmied down the drain pipe totally ruining one of my favourite pair of stay up stockings in the process.