Names are changed to protect the delightfully guilty.
The first date –
I didn’t expect a lot out of the date. I don’t go on many and I am very much average-looking. Emma and I met on a dating app, got talking and decided to meet.
We met in a pub in a small English city. “Chris?” she said as she walked round the corner. She’s 25, about 5’8, has a lovely smile and a cracking pair…of eyes. (The tits are fucking amazing as well.)
I stood up and apparently – I found out later – my height and bear hug excited her a fair bit. (I’m 29, 6’2 and have a big ol’ gut with lots of padding. Ladies.) We got talking, and I’ve never had an easier conversation in my life. My nerves disappeared in no time, we had loads in common and were clearly both excited by each other. Bear in mind that we’re in our mid to late 20s, we felt like teenagers.
We only had a few hours and was nowhere near enough. I ended up keeping her half an hour after she was supposed to leave. I even walked her back to her car. We didn’t kiss, although I was definitely thinking about it.