It began during the second year of college, a year of great social activity, nights out, and excitement. In the midst of this, I began texting a male friend who I had known for a while. The relationship blossomed; we got on like a house on fire! Soon enough, I found myself tearing through my wardrobe searching nervously for a suitable outfit for a first date. I had to take a few deep breaths as I squeezed myself into my skinny jeans and headed for the door.
Now, I obviously couldn’t admit to my Mam that I was headed on a date. The thoughts of the Mam-Interrogation and multiple questions would only heighten the nerves, so I did what any respectable young lady would: I lied. “I’m going for a few drinks with the girls, can I’ve a spin to town please?”
The date location was Reardens. I got a text en route to say he was waiting outside and panic gripped my body. I couldn’t get out of the car and walk up to him with my Mam watching. So I did what I thought best – told her the girls were waiting inside Captain America’s. I got out of the car, went into the restaurant, and did the first thing I could think of whilst I waited for my Mam to drive away… I booked a table for ten. Yes, instead of me just admitting to my Mam that I was headed on a date, I went into Captain America’s, booked a table for ten for “Murphy”, went to the bathroom and walked back out.
But, the best is yet to come.
The date itself started off blissfully; there were no awkward moments, we were laughing, and the drinks were flowing. However, the drink in question I was consuming was wine. I am not a wine drinker, and I was purchasing 2-3 glasses at a time. Rearden’s was quite packed that night, a typical busy Friday night but we nabbed a seat in the corner (how romantic, I know).
Suddenly, I felt a tap at my shoulder. I turned – and weren’t my work colleagues on a night out in Reardens as well. It was so busy in the bar, they decided to join us at our table while I tried not to go crimson red in the face as I faced the typical “who’s your friend? Are ye on a date? Awww!”
An hour rolled by, my colleagues headed to Havanas (thank you, Lord) and just as the date was regaining normality, guess who felt the effects of all those glasses of wine and proceeded to pass out on the table? Yes, that’s right, I fell asleep on the tables in Reardens while on a date.
Needless to say, it didn’t work out between us.