So on friday I had arranged to meet my Romanian date up in Covent Garden, which is the first time I have ventured that far out of Clapham on a first date. Proving the point that men are very basic creautres, the reason I was dusting my ostyer card off was simply because of her wonderful looking breasts. As I've said before, I don't generally date girls whose mother tongue isn't English as I find alot of the banter and flirtatious comments get lost in translation....or perhaps they just don't find me funny or attractive, which could very well be the case...
After a 5 minute wait outside the station, my date arrived. As she walked towards me it was quite clear that she was well aware of what a weapon her fantastic puppies were. She was wearing a very tight fitting, low cut top, that really did do them proud. Although I was obviously drawn towards these on first sight, I couldn't help but notice a wild mane of hair that wouldn't have looked out of place in an 80's soft rock music video. ...
We headed to a little gem of a place that I stumbled across in the backstreets of Covent Garden and settled down at the cocktail bar to begin the evening off. Her English was almost better than mine and she was well travelled, having lived in New York for the previous two years. I'm not really sure what I had expected - maybe some gypsy type woman that appears at the start of the Borat movie, but she was obviously a well educated, smart girl . She was in London studying for a masters, au pairing for a family and sending most of the money earned back to her mother. Quite a humbling thought....
After a couple of hours sipping on Mojito's we headed into the buzz of London and she indicated that she felt like a dance. She had already slipped her arm into mine as we walked, something I'm really not comfortable with after the first year, let alone the first date. I took her into a club that I know well, which is more of a meat market than a serious dance venue, but more than adequate for her to have a boogie in.
The drinks carried on flowing as we stood at the bar and she started to break out into a sexy little dance to a bit of cheesy music the DJ was playing. I was quite taken by her body and now we were a fair few alcohol units in, her hair was getting smaller. I was starting to think my rule of not dating foreign girls was a bit of a mockery and as I'm not getting any younger or prettier, maybe its time to tap into this market....
That thought changed very quickly. As I stood there by the bar , she danced over and put her arms over my shoulders and moved in for a kiss. I'm not great at PDA, but by this time I was hammered. As we locked lips, this horrendeous smell came wafting towards my nasal passage. It couldn't be? Having played alot of sport through the years, I've come across my fair share of body odour, but this was something to behold. I pulled away in horror, but she didnt seem to notice the shock on my face and just carried on dancing infront of me. I tried to convince myself that it couldnt be her, but the next time we got close, there was no doubting. It was so strong, I almost gagged. Can she not smell it? What the hell do I do now? As I ducked and swerved her every advance like championship boxer, I was trying to think of any excuse to leave now. Her hair was getting bigger again due to the sweat building up from her dancing, so it was like a stinking Michael Bolton trying to grapple with me.
I knew when I was taking in deep breath's before she got too close that enough was enough. I told her that I had some work to do in the morning, so we headed out into the fresh air and I put her in a taxi. Phew....
As I headed to my flat, I couldnt help thinking that maybe she should cut down on the money she sends back to Romania and invest in some basic products to tackle body odour. I get that I maybe sounding shallow here, but I did initially meet her just for the look of her titties.No wonder I'm still single.....
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