25 May, 2011

Dinner with Ted Bundy anyone?


On Friday, I got this email from I guy I don't know.  There was no preamble, no witty banter, just this:


"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

No name, one picture that was kind of obscured.  I confess, I thought about it, because writing funny things for imaginary readers makes me take crazy risks sometimes, but then I shook myself out of it, and once again wondered how this blog can make me do stuff that could be injurious to my health.  I didn't answer. 

About an hour and a half later, this arrived: 

"Hi :) would you mind replying to my earlier message? Sorry it's brief, I'm busy at work. I'll make good company, just think it would be a fun evening."


Oh, I'm sorry.  You're busy at work, but I'm just lounging about on the couch eating bon bons, watching re-runs of I love Lucy and designing clothes for monkeys in my imagination.  Note there is still no name, no number, no identifiers of any kind.  This is how girls end up in plastic bags by the side of the road near a state forest.  What's more everyone thinks they're "good company"  even those people who are decidedly "bad company".


This time I responded, with:

"I'm sorry dude.  I didn't realise you were serious.  I have plans tonight."

Undaunted, mystery man fired this off:

"Fair enough, can I book you in for another evening, maybe this weekend"

Not even a full stop.  Book me in?  Try calling one of these girls instead.

It was time to put a stop to these shenanigans.  This is what I wrote.

"Er, no.

"I'm sorry, but I know nothing about you at all. And I make a point of not going on dates with men who don't have a photo up where I can see their teeth."

See, I'm learning.  No more guys with bad teeth for me.  He shot off one last salvo:

"I see. Thanks for being honest and for replying. I'll work on both as they are simple to do. Have a good weekend. It was an impetuous idea no harm done I think."

Well, not unless you trawl the internet for blogs written by disillusioned single forty-something women.  I didn't respond, and I haven't heard back.  Although it'll be interesting to see if he puts up a picture with teeth in it.   Actually, it'd be great if he put one in of just his teeth with no face attached.  Although, if they were all lying bloody on a handkerchief, how could I be sure they were his?  And not his last dinner date's?


Give us a kiss, love.

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