Hoo boy.

So tonight I had a date with a New One, via Match. He invited me over to his for dinner and suchlike; after getting his address and leaving it with everyone I know, along with his phone number and a physical description, I set out all intrepid, hair done, makeup on, legs shaved, favourite t-shirt and all. Things began to take a nasty turn when he opened the door and an aroma that could only be described as Hot Wet Dog escaped the hallway. Oh please, God, let this not be dinner.

Anyway. He ushers me into a (reasonably....okay scruffy yes but not actually dirty) room and bids me be seated; I did try, but apparently the seat had been broken for quite some time, because there was no audible "oh God I just broke that" noise, more a soft flooooooooooooooooomp as I ended up sitting near as damnit on the floor with my knees round my ears.

The conversation was quite boring and one-sided (his). The food was indeed Hot Wet Dog (I pushed it around a bit and pleaded the fifth). The end of the evening came when I ventured into the bathroom - I just couldn't hang on any more - to discover that the toilet was still festooned with shit from where he'd apparently had a copious and explosive, er, release shortly before I came round. I mean for GOD'S SAKE. You'd never leave something like that would you? Would you? Anyway, horrified, I crept back into the lounge and, since he had started doing the slow creep towards me, feigned sickness (although after the bathroom and the waft of Dog it wasn't much of an effort), and legged it. LEGGED IT I SAY. *shudder* eurgh.

On the PLUS side darlings. The lovely local type who I keep missing has asked if I will go out tomorrow afternoon; the plan thus far is to meet for coffee at 2.30pm and see where the wind blows us. He is evidently not put off by my short fat cripple image. I am certainly not put off at all by his 6'4" really-quite-handsome thing. Oh well we'll see - although if he smells even slightly of Dog I am OUT.