Squashed amongst the sweaty commuters all crammed like sardines into the tube carriage and stuck underneath a stranger’s armpit – it’s at times like this I wish I was tall!
All my hopes of looking halfway decent for this date have evaporated as fast as the guy next to me is perspiring…
Darting out of the tube and gasping for air – my once volumed hair is now limp, lifeless and saturated in someone else’s sweat – what a great start to my date!
Standing outside the venue and looking for my Mr Swing Dance – I’m having serious seconds thoughts as to why I agreed to this date.
Oh dear God, there he is – in full swing dance attire and I, well, I look like I’m dressed for a funeral! He looks nothing like his pictures, not even a smidge of similarity. I wish the pavement would devour me. (more…)