The Dating Game

PHOEBE:

For me, dating has always been about as much fun as a smear test: undignified, uncomfortable and usually wishing halfway through that I’d worn more spectacular pants. I’d love to be one of those girls who relishes the prospect of dating, but my inability to look interested when bored or fill in the painful silences with anything other than undecipherable nonsense tends to make me run screaming in the opposite direction.

So for my next column the idea was simple: I’d have a date with another writer (Thomas) and we’d write about the same date from different perspectives as honestly as possible. This took the dating pressure off slightly, as I managed to convince myself it wasn’t a ‘real’ date as such. As Thomas was familiar with my column we’d thought it best to issue a sex ban, ensuring we’d concentrate only on the actual date - so we wouldn't be too distracted should we find each other attractive, and no feelings would be hurt if one found the other repulsive.

I approached this date as I approach most things: leaving everything to the last minute and then panicking. Getting ready for a date usually requires planning however, as all clothing/make-up/jewellery is chosen, applied and worn with one very specific question in mind: “Will this make him want to shag me?”

So when I finally met Thomas in the flesh, my heart sank and the first words that popped into my head were “For fuck’s sake”.

He wasn’t what I’d imagined he’d look like from the couple of cheeky pictures I’d seen - he was much, much better. Rather delicious in fact and, of course, all wrapped up in a big old sex ban. Typical.

The date itself was rather fun, I have to say; I didn’t feel too nervous and after a couple of drinks we seemed to get along well. We met his friends and his flatmate, went dancing, got rather drunk, and apart from the only slip-up (I kissed him. Mainly because he was handsome) the sex ban remained in place. However, a few hours later we were at his place naked and in bed. We didn’t shag but I got the best oral sex of my life. Several times. If he uses the rest of his anatomy as well as he uses his mouth, I’m in trouble. The downside of someone having a flatmate however is when they catch you kneeling in the blowjob position and there’s nothing you can do to make it look like anything other than it is.

If this had been a ‘proper’, more conventional date, I’d have been torturing myself with the whole "Do you think he’ll call? Why hasn’t he called? Was it my hair? I’m going to die a spinster" nonsense. As this was purely for ‘research’, the same pressure didn’t exist and there was no worry about phone calls or whether or not I should have let him see my bottom on a first date.

This little challenge has made slightly braver when it comes to dating and led me to evaluate all of the pointless, negative concerns I have about dating. It’s not all bad really … Wonder if he wants to try the sex ban again?

THOMAS:

About five minutes after meeting her for the first time, Phoebe asked if I had felt nervous about the date. To be honest, I hadn’t been at all, but did ponder why that might be in the days that followed. Fact is, I’ve not been on too many blind dates before. Those that did occur tended to involve me appearing as wingman to keep someone's sister occupied, thus giving my friend a clear run at his intended target. Also, I’d been chatting with Phoebe via e-mail on work-related matters for some months prior to actually meeting up, and we had conversed quite amiably. So, no, on this occasion I wasn’t at all worried, though it did bring to mind some previous first dates where the conversation had dried up quicker than Lindsay Lohan’s movie career, the subsequent silence punctuated only by empty glass hitting wood and the words “So, would you like another drink then?”

Phoebe had done a good job of describing herself, so meeting her also proved no shock. Pretty, and after the first drink had been ordered and we settled a little, delightfully cheeky and friendly. It was very comforting to know there wouldn’t be any awkward silences; in fact, neither of us shut up thereafter.

Of course, I’m aware of Phoebe’s sex column. Whilst that in itself doesn’t make me in any way uncomfortable, I thought it might be more relaxing to take actual sex out of the equation for the evening, and not have to worry too much about being ‘reviewed’ later on (one facet of the occasion which probably was slightly odd).

Naturally, our first proper topic of conversation was the bloody sex ban. And indeed sex in general. Fair enough I guess - Phoebe is on a mission to discover as much as she can, and good luck to her. And it is nice to talk about sex in a frank and fun way, without ever getting too prurient.

It’s probably not too conventional to bring a first date along to meet your mates after just an hour or so, but they’re good chat, and great fun without being overbearing, so I figured (correctly) that we’d all have a laugh together. So we went clubbing, then drinking until all hours back at mine. By this stage of course, Phoebe and I were quite relaxed in each other’s company, and so neither of us had any compunction about getting naked in bed together, with all the consequences that this entails. Having spent the evening talking incessantly, I’m glad to report that this didn’t stop once we were in the sack. Sex is so much more fun with a suitably filthy running commentary.

We really should have been tired, but hours later, there was no end in sight, until eventually, Phoebe had to leave and I was left to wonder how that wet patch got there, and there, and there and there ... Sex bans? Highly recommended!