Tina versus Mr Athletic

Over the last few years, I’ve been half heartedly profiled on the well known Interweb dating site “Let Me Know If You Are Coming.”  However, it hasn’t bourn a lot of fruit for me, despite my friend Tom hijacking the site and attempting to set me up with a bunch of unsuitable men- some were so unsuitable, in fact, that they were women.  So,  I’ve managed  4 whole dates in 3 years.  Yep, my fault.  I guess its easy to be fussy when you haven’t met someone yet, and they give you a reason not to bother.

This is a tale about a man (let’s call him Mr Athletic) who ran the Tina gauntlet and made it to a ‘first date’.  As per the rules of the site, he’d electronically ‘kissed’ me to indicate his interest, and initially, I’d said thanks but no thanks.  But he was persistent, and finally, I decided he was cutish, but more importantly, looked like fun, and returned a kiss.  He was 33, 6’3″, and described his body type as ‘athletic’ (the site profile offers slim, athletic, average, overweight & obese as options).

We had an obligatory day of texting, and late one Sunday afternoon we chatted on the phone. He was driving home from being out for the day, and during the course of the conversation, we realised that it would be a good week before we could meet.

Now, in the ‘real’ dating world, a week is nothing.  However, in the ‘on-line’ world, you can waste a LOT of time texting and emailing before you even meet someone.  Accordingly, as he was close to my house, he suggested that he just pick me up and we grab a quick dinner.

To be fair, he did have some reservations, because he was wearing track pants and an old t-shirt, and had been out all day. I told him not to worry, got ready quickly, and within a few minutes he was at the end of my driveway.

He wasn’t kidding about the trackie daks.  But, I think he WAS kidding about the ‘athletic’. Once in the car, I couldn’t help but notice his gut giving the steering wheel a good nudge.

He suggested his favourite restaurant, a great little vietnamese place in yep, West End, where he had lunch 3 or 4 times a week.  As we walked from the car, he was walking VERY slowly, on account of having what looked like a very painful limp.  However, somewhat oddly, I thought, he didn’t make any mention of it.

As we pored over the menus, he commented “Look- I don’t really eat that much- shall we get one main to share and a couple of entrees? Is there anything you don’t eat?”

I’m pretty sure I managed to keep the surprise off my face, regarding his assessment of his regular calorific intake, and said “Yep- sorry, but I don’t eat wheat or pork (don’t get me on my soap box about how they treat pigs!)”  And he said “Well, there goes my two usual choices- Honey Chicken and Sweet n Sour Pork”.  Not a joke.

The entrees came out, and before tasting them, he grabbed the salt, then proceeded to liberally douse a satay stick, which he then washed down with a nice sugary soft drink.

Turns out he was an ex Brisbane Lions football player- de-listed in 2004 (or so he said). Well, that explained the ‘athletic’ delusion.  See, the problem is, once you’ve been a highly fit athlete, its hard not to see yourself that way.  You go on thinking you can suck back six packs, throw down pies and attend Mad Monday without consequences, and accordingly you don’t notice that you are a sneaky 30kg above your playing weight.

There was good chat over dinner, but that didn’t stop me noticing dried white spittle on the corners of his mouth.  That, coupled with the delusional and unhealthy eating habits, had me at 95% certain there was no future for us. (I am quite keen on a partner that will make it to 40 without having to do that at-risk-of-heart-attack-during-surgery diet).  He also had ‘big mans’ voice- a voice that is very deep and rumbles as if there is phlegm at the back of the throat.  I didn’t think I could deal with that voice for the 7 or so years before he carked it.

But that wasn’t all. As he fixed up dinner, I was standing a few feet downwind of him, and I got a big waft of sweaty butt crack.  Yep, unwashed bum.  Not pleasant.

As I walked, and he limped, to the car, I felt the time was right for me to mention the elephant in the room (or on the street, as the case may be), and politely asked if he had an injury.

He coughed, cleared his throat, (which didn’t clear) looked down and mumbled, “Umm, yes, injury, er, long story” which he notably did not tell.  Hmmm.  My medical opinion, gout.  (Not that I’m exactly sure what gout is.)

As we drove home, I fell silent, wondering how to say I wasn’t interested, because above mentioned attributes aside, he seemed like a decent guy (although, I must say, I was surreptitiously sniffing to see if there was a hint of bum in the air).  As we pulled up outside my place, I went with the direct approach.  I told him I thought he was a really interesting guy (and he was) but that I didn’t see us as being any more than friends.

Not unlike my friend the Hobbit, Mr Athletic was lost for words.  He had thought the night had gone really well, and that I was head over for him.  (I feel its important to interject here by saying that over dinner I made NO cheesy comments or suggestions about a long and happy future together.)

After saying how surprised and taken aback he was, he set about trying to convince me that he was good for me.  One of his arguments was that he was younger that me, and that I would suit a younger guy (possibly true…. but based on biological age he was pushing 45, and if I may quite smugly say, mine is pushing 31).

Now, I know you might think I’ve been a bit harsh on this guy… but that may be because of what happened next….

After 30 minutes of sitting in his car while he attempted to talk me round, I finally said I would consider his offer to go to the soccer on Friday, as friends, but that it being Sunday night I was quite busy and needed to go.  I lent over to give him a kiss on the cheek… and he clamped his big meaty arm around me, pulled me to him and PASHED ME, tongue-n-all!

After a few seconds that felt like a lifetime, he pulled back slightly, still holding me to him, and with a gurgley whisper said “Now, do you really have to go?” as if to suggest that his spittle mouthed kiss had set my heart or my panties on fire!

In fact, I was in such shock that I didn’t say a word, and he kissed me again…. (yep, still gross) AND (wait for it people) went for a BOOB grab!!

This extra shock shocked me out of my shock, and I pulled back, hastily said good night and ran for my life (ok, I just walked, cos I knew he couldnt move fast enough to follow.)

Needless to say, we didn’t go out again.  And, for the record, I looked up delisted Brisbane Lions players and… he wasn’t one of them.

The lesson we can all take from this my friends, is… carry some wet wipes around in the car.  You never know when they might save you from turning up in someone’s blog depicted as a person of unusual odour….

Stay tuned to find out about the most successful bad pick up line in the history of time.

About The Tina Sparkles Experience

Apparently, there are people who go traveling and just see things and nothing weird happens. I'm not one of those people....come on holiday with me and find out why!

3 Responses to “Tina versus Mr Athletic”

  1. Hmmm. Not too surprised you didn’t find him on the Brisbane Lions best and fairest list.

    I thought girls loved the boob grab. Maybe that’s what I was doing wrong years ago!!

  2. Spittle encrusted lips… I know that’s what gets me going 😉

  3. Gem of a piece I hope you find your Mr. Right one day : )

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