Delilah Explains... Dating

So I've been single for two years. Ages, right? Mum is distraught about this fact. She's forever telling me that she met Dad when she was fourteen, they were married at eighteen and my sister Clara had popped out by the time Mum was twenty. I think she's using this tale as motivation or inspiration but it only causes relief that my life isn't as dull as Mum's.

I've had relationships in the past. None of them have worked out (obv) but they were fun while they lasted. Apart from Mitch. He was never fun. I don't know what I was thinking. Anyway, those relationships made me who I am. I wouldn't change them. Apart from Mitch. That was a if-I-had-a-time-machine-I'd-go-back-and-never type of relationship.

I'm quite happy being single (really. Mum doesn't believe me either but it's true). It means I get to go on fabulous dates. Although it does mean I get to go on some not-so-fabulous dates too.

Some stinkers have been:

  • Being taken on a motorbike ride. Without an extra helmet. We were thankfully pulled up about fifty yards away from my house. Mum was fuming. The neighbours thought I was being arrested.
  • The picnic in the park where I was served cheese-slice sandwiches and a warm bottle of coke. There wasn't even cake
  • The cinema trip where we were accompanied by the bloke's sister (she'd just broken up with her boyfriend and didn't want to be left alone. When I asked - discreetly - why she couldn't hang out with her mates for the evening, I was told she didn't have any)
  • Being set up with the brother-in-law of my sister's boyfriend. He was 22 (I was 26), still had braces on his teeth and he quoted Star Trek or Star Wars (I couldn't tell but they're both as bad as each other) for the entire date
  • My first internet date where the bloke turned out to be 59 (he'd told me he was 32). It was my last internet date.



My latest date was with Philippe, which took place last week. I met Philippe in town the week before, when I was out with Lauren and Ryan, my best friends. Ryan was trying to chat up this stunning red-head (he didn't stand a chance, poor sod) and Lauren had gone to fight her way to the bar. Philippe approached, introducing himself with an exquisite French accent. My legs turned to jelly. I love an accent and he was gorgeous. Seriously.

We got chatting (me melting every time he spoke) and we had a dance (the boy had moves) and at the end of the night, I gave Philippe my number - and he actually called me. The next day. We arranged a date (a casual trip to the cinema. Nothing can really go wrong. Unless your dates brings his snivelling, heartbroken sister with him). I was so looking forward to this date. I waxed, plucked, soaked and used my best perfume. I wore my 'good' bra (you know the one, ladies. It gives you a cleavage up to your eyeballs) and slipped on a dress that was tight and low in all the right places without appearing sluttish.

'Your sister's just given me a hard on,' I heard one of my brother's friends whisper (I never know which is which - they're all as unclean as each other) as I passed Justin's bedroom. He whimpered a moment later as Justin evidently thumped him.

'Wow, look at you.' Mum was impressed as I waltzed into the kitchen. I wondered if I should go and change. 'You look very modern. Off out on your "date", are you?' Mum made the quotation marks and everything. 'What was his name again?'

'Philippe. He's French.' I was very proud of that fact. Maybe, if this worked out, I'd get a free holiday to France to visit his parents. I'd always wanted to visit Paris.

'Well, as long as he treats you well. That's all that matters.'

I left then. Mum didn't know a thing about what to look for in a man. She'd married Dad, after all.

I was meeting Philippe at the cinema, which I didn't mind. I'm not one of these girls who wants picking up at her house. It's sometimes better if a date doesn't know where you live until you've sussed him out. I learned this the hard way when I was practically stalked (for three days but it was annoying) by a date I'd decided not to contact again (his teeth had a greenish hue and he smelled of pork).

Philippe was a bit late. I waited for 20 minutes. Then half an hour. Finally, 40 minutes after we'd arranged to meet, Philippe turned up, apologising profusely.

The date went downhill from there.

Delilah Explains... Delilah

Hi there! This is my very first blog post, so be gentle with me.

My name is Delilah. I bet you're now singing the Tom Jones song, aren't you? Don't worry about it. I get that a lot, especially from the older generation. The younger ones usually sing the Plain White T's song at me which, let's be honest, is an improvement.


Where was I? Oh, yes. Me. I'm 27 and live in Greater Manchester (I am so not narrowing down my location - I've read the mad stalker stories in my mum's magazines). Unfortunately, I still live with my parents. I know! Sucks, right? I'm a complete saddo. I meant to move out like 9 years ago. I had plans to move into a swanky flat with my best friend, Lauren. But then she went away to university and I didn't (I thought cutting out the middle man and just getting a job was easier. I soon regretted that. Lauren had so much fun pissing about while I was stuck filing in an office).

Anyway, Lauren's back but she's too skint to move out of her parents' place so we're both stuck for the moment. I work in a biscuit factory, which isn't as exciting as it may sound. They make us pay for the wonky, broken biscuits. It's at a reduced rate, but still. Stingy or what? Thankfully I work in the office doing admin stuff (all the crap nobody else wants to touch) and not out on the shop floor. Can you imagine? You spend all day looking at nothing but biscuits! It would totally take the enjoyment out of eating them, wouldn't it? I'd never want to see a pigging biscuit again! My mate Karen (who does work on the shop floor) says she has nightmares about giant, woman-eating biscuits!

When I'm not at work (which I seem to be 99% of my life), I like going into town with Lauren and Ryan, my other best friend. My drink of choice is vodka - with pretty much anything. I also enjoy the odd glass of wine when I'm feeling sophisticated. Which isn't very often. I also workout twice a week (if you can call strolling on a treadmill for twenty minutes working out) but this is mainly because Lauren has a massive crush on one of the instructors.

I'm currently single (which has been the case for the past two years. I've been on dates but I always seem to end up with losers. Mum says I'm too picky. I say I've got a healthy self-esteem and won't settle for knobheads). I have a date tonight, actually. His name is Philippe (yes, he is French. And tres hot). I met him last week in town and gave him my number - and he phoned the next day. Very promising!

Anyway, I'd better start getting ready for my hot date soon so here are a few quick-fire things you may want to know about me:


  • My middle name is Marigold (my parents don't hate me - it's a family name)

  • Bees terrify me, the sting-y little fecks

  • My favourite colour seems to change every week. This week it is emerald green

  • I once played a tree in our school production of The Wizard of Oz. It did not go well.

  • When I was little, I was desperate to be a ballerina. I went to two classes (after begging Mum for weeks) and swiftly changed my mind

  • My favourite ice-cream is mint chocolate chip

Anyway, I'm off to beautify myself for Philippe. If there is anything else you'd like to know, just ask!