I date this guy who is pretty fit. And by pretty fit, I mean really fit and by date I mean watch TV in bed.
We don’t really date properly because we don’t actually have a lot in common – I like reading and writing, he likes Angry Birds, I like museums and galleries, he likes Infernos, I like cooking and fine dining, he eats protein.
But I think we kinda work because I treat him as one of my personal projects; if I’m not busy with blog things, I’m busy training him to be less of a drunk. And by using my princess as a reward, I’m usually able to get him to do pretty much anything I want. Exhibit A:
If he’s not letting me post his naked body all over the internet or jumping through hoops onto hot coals, then occasionally he will accompany me to dinner somewhere with posh food he doesn’t like.
But to be honest I’m not really sure how I feel about it because it’s the exact opposite of what I’d imagine it to be like to take Brian, the sophisticated dog from Family Guy, to dinner.
He’s totally confused by multiple sets of cutlery. He’ll complain when there’s not burger and chips on the menu and he slurps and burps like he’s giving oral sex to a bowl of spaghetti.
Once he thought the waiter was hitting on him when he was called ‘Sir’ and wondered if he should go fight him.
So for the first romantic date to bring our casual sex into the new year, I decided to take him to Dans le Noir (In the Dark, in Français). It’s this restaurant where you eat in pitch darkness and get served by blind waiters. It’s all about having a culinary experience that appeals to all senses apart from sight – the perfect place to take a guy with confronting table manners. Or someone ugly. Or your mate’s girlfriend.
The idea is that you don’t actually know what you will be eating until they show you afterwards, you just choose from the surprise menu category and risk eating or tasting something you don’t like. Kind of like a dark room orgy.
He instinctively chose the meat menu because he is a cave man and I chose it because comfort is for wimps. Then we met with Addy, our blind waiter, who got us to line up with the other 9pm bookers, put our hands on each other’s shoulders and line dance into the darkness to be seated.
The room completely, 100% dark – as you’d expect. It was scary and I would normally have feared tripping over, or being murdered, but I was too busy cringing at my companion’s absurdly odd comments.
i.e. “My nipples are scared.” WTF? He might have been high.
The room buzzed with the low murmurs of the diners, but was overruled by the discernible voices of the waiters.
‘Feel around for your cutlery.’
‘Here are your drinks, Sir.’
‘Oops, excuse me, Charlie.’
The tables were long from what I could tell, not sure how long exactly but I had a person on either side of me while my date sat across from me kicking me in the shins on purpose.
For the majority of the time we just kissed across the table because it was the only way to keep him at bay. Plus there wasn’t much else to do in between food; if you just sit there your brain becomes quite perplexed with its lack of things to focus on and if we tried to talk it was boring because like I said, nothing in common.
The girl next to me was there with her boyfriend and she was not doing well at all. I don’t know if she had been listening to our conversations or if it was the darkness perplexing her brain, but she told her boyfriend she was struggling. So I just casually interjected with the suggestion that she try kissing her boyfriend across the table too.
Next minute, sucking face noises from my right.
All in all the experience was OK. At one point my chest was groped right before Addy spoke in my ear, so at first I thought I was being assaulted by the blind waiter – that was a highlight LOL moment. Then there was a birthday song that erupted in the pitch black and was not accompanied by the usual candled cake for obvious reasons. I guess that was another highlight because everyone likes singing Happy Birthday. But that was about as eventful as it got really.
My date could have been licking his plate or playing with himself for all I knew, so embarrassment levels were at an all time low – which I guess was the aim of the game, but gosh it made for a boring blog post, didn’t it?
So I thought fuck it and gave him a risqué fellation dans le noir under the table and we left.
Or did I?
