This date really happened – I know because I was there for most of it. If the reports of paedophilia, abduction and transsexualism don’t put you off internet dating, this story will.
It began in sunny Detroit when a fresh-faced young blonde logged on to an internet chat site. She was a mainstay of her university’s cheerleading team and she was a stunner. They say that if a woman had the same proportions as a Barbie doll she wouldn’t be able to stand up. This girl provided overwhelming evidence to the contrary.
Exactly how the ugly scally who I lived with at university managed to woo her is unclear. What’s definitely true is that he told her he looked like a shorter version of Michael Owen. The innocent party took two jobs and began to save for a flight to England.
Flights were expensive and eventually she decided to fly to Manchester via Singapore. It was cheaper and it only took 31 hours. Having subsisted on a diet of crackers and airline coffee for two days and a night she emerged from the plane into the piercing light of a Manchester morning.
Her lover was nowhere to be seen but he had left a message. His scooter had broken down and she would have to make her own way from Manchester to where he lived in York. Wearily, she found herself a bus and settled down for the two hour journey.
She was at least met at the bus stop. There she was subjected to the kind of bear hug that a 12-stone, five-foot-nothing man will inevitably give a dainty but nevertheless six-foot tall woman who towers above him. Anyone who’s familiar with the techniques of wrestler Randy Orton will know what I’m talking about. It’s tricky to decide who was more mortified about the height difference, but it’s fair to say that she was the most upset about their contrasting levels of personal hygiene.
To make things worse she’d come at an inconvenient time. The play-off final kicked off in half an hour and there was no time for her to go home and drop off her bags. So he dragged her – and she dragged her suitcases – to a nearby pub, where they tried to stave off the effects of jet lag by drinking several pints of a previously unknown substance called bitter.
Come the evening it was time for their first night out together. Not wishing to increase the pressure on the two of them by arranging a romantic meal, he decided the best bet would be an evening at the local student nightclub. They could have a few drinks, perhaps a little boogie and she could meet his equally lecherous mates.
A few drinks and a few gropes later, and things weren’t going well. She was too busy trying to swat away the unwelcome attentions of Yorkshire’s men to pay him much attention. And he was so disheartened by this that he decided to cop of with another girl who he’d just met right in front of her. She’d only come 4,000 miles after all. I’d also like to stress that this was the only time I saw him with another girl in the three years he was at university.
Needless to say, the love-affair ended there. The next day they didn’t go to see York Minster because he felt, and rightly felt, that: ‘£3.50 is a rip off for a church.’ And she didn’t stay in England for anything like as long as she’d planned, which I think was about four days. She did at least get to pull another of my housemates while she was here – he was dressed in drag at the time.
Like I said, worst date ever.