You can fly, you can fly!

I won’t lie, I entered date three like I’d been doing it for years. If I’m to look back at it now, I would swear I walked into the date in slow motion, one eyebrow permanently risen, beard cut to perfection, smelling like the sweat from a mermaids belly button and moving like a unicorn greased with the tears of several hundred kittens.

"Hi there. Pleasure to meet you. Mine's a Strongbow. Thanks."

“Hi there. Pleasure to meet you. Mine’s a Strongbow. Thanks.”

Of course, that probably wasn’t the case. Probably. We’d been messaging for a week or so prior to meeting. Clean Soul actually sent me the first message on Plenty of Fish, funnily enough, referencing the fanny flaps comment on my profile. “You had me at fanny flaps”, I believe, was her opening gambit. Turns out we actually had a mutual friend too who was a work colleague of mine, so it was a fairly smooth introductory process. Until we met there’s little else to report. And when we met, I used all my imagination and creativity to choose an amazing first location for potential love. The same place as Date 2.

First impression – she was bloody tiny. Like, put in your pocket tiny. I happened to be lurking round the corner smoking, looking cool, when she arrived and at first I thought I’d inadvertedly made a date with a micro-person. Or that the lamp post she was standing next to was outrageously fucking huge. But no, she was itty bitty, and that’s not a bad thing whatsoever. Just noteworthy.

Clean Soul was, and to this date, still is, the oldest person I’ve been on a date with at the age of 34. Which isn’t that old really is it? But I think it’s a big part of why things didn’t necessarily pan out in the way she wanted. We had a lovely evening, perhaps a little drunken, and I somehow ended up back at her house which I don’t think was in her original agenda. We had sex. In the evening. And twice again in the morning, but we had to do it on the floor because her housemate was back home and apparently fucking on the floor doesnt make as much noise. I have yet to fully realise this notion as it’s not been tested. Maybe it’s true across all houses, maybe it was just this one – don’t know.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”


We showered together that morning and I’m quite self conscious when it comes to shit like that. But it was quite nice, and unexpected given such limited time knowing one another. Then, beyond putting a dent in the floor we then went for a fried breakfast down the road which is very difficult thing to not be great. But I suppose because it was a Saturday, and I did not have my own transport, I was actually quite keen to either a) a drink or b) drink or c) lay down for a long time and subsequently leave. As a result, I felt an itching need to move that was more than likely evident all over my face. She eventually dropped me home, and I was eternally grateful.

See, the key thing about Clean Soul, is something that’s quite personal. I have and forever will be into quotes, especially when they’re quotes about me, and she was capable of things like that. We continued dating for a little while, and it was nice. One evening she came over to my house where we had drinks and some leftover drugs I had from some other shit, and it was real nice. The key component of this, however, is when we were outside smoking. In fact, we weren’t even properly outside, it was more just ‘in a doorway’ and we were close up. She made an observation about me. She said I had a ‘Filthy Soul’.

I still think about that now.

We went back inside after this comment, after she had requested I do something not many sexual partners of mine have actually requested (things with her bottom). The rest of the evening went smoothly, (she insisted) aside from one minor incident which I can still see in my mind. Given that she was so little, and I’m fairly large, and my bed at the time was quite high off the ground when she accidentally fell off of me, she REALLY fell off me.

Almost exactly how it looked AND happened.

Almost exactly how it looked AND happened.


That was the second to last time we met, oddly. From then it sort of went a bit weird and serious and odd and strange and again, weird. I had to cancel one meeting that I couldn’t achieve, more than likely because I just fancied a night at home on my own, and she got a bit distant. I could sense a tone that was borderline furious which, never makes me feel comfortable, and the next time we met was soaked with an atmosphere of distain and disappointment and confusion which I think I struggled to accept. It just felt all sorts of wrong, for the littlest of reasons. So, like more than a few of these dates, it ended up fading out of stubborness and apathy. I cant pretend to deny that my overall attitude stank, on more than one occassion.

It wasn’t the right time for either of us. By the time I’d wised up, it was too late to try again.