Paying The Price For Being The Date From Hell

A girl I had been seeing for a few weeks invited me back to her place for a few drinks after we had been out on our date. I was obviously pleased because I thought I was going to get lucky. She lived in a shared house and none of her flatmates were home. The house was pretty fancy, I think they rented it together.

She invited me into the living room to show me her impressive cocktail cabinet. She worked in a really trendy upmarket bar, but I didn’t expect her to have all of this at home! She insisted on showing me a few of her special-mix cocktails. I was impressed by her skills and could see that she was enjoying showing me all of her flaring tricks.

I forgot to tell her that I’m not a very heavy drinker. So she’s making all these drinks, and I’m trying to keep up. Before I know there’s three of her and two of me, and we’re not in a house any more, it feels more like a boat! I wasn’t feeling very well by this point, so she showed me upstairs to the bathroom, giggling away, having a good old laugh at my expense.

I don’t know what happened in that bathroom, but I left it with a very broken toilet seat. Then I fell down the stairs into a table, broke that. Walked into a mirror in the hallway, which fell onto a shelf underneath it. The shelf broke and everything that was on the shelf ended up shattered on the floor.

I remember waking up on her sofa the next day and her flatmate was in a really bad mood. I ended up having to fork out a few hundred pounds for all the damages. We’re still friends, but I’ve never been to her house again, or on another date.

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