Recently I've had the misfortune of being hounded by a Scotsman, Braveheart, I managed to pick up at the Byron Bay Blues Fest over Easter weekend. I know that's a loaded sentence so let me define a few of those terms:
1. "pick-up" means I actually laughed at him because he was wearing a superman suit with a pillow for faux muscles, we shared a few jokes and he managed to get my number out of the 9 Smirnoff Blacks I'd consumed; and
2. "hounded" means he has literally sent dozens of text messages and emails asking me how I am, giving me random bits of knowledge etc etc. to the point where I was wondering if we'd ever manage to go on a normal date.
It screams quality already doesn't it?
We had brunch once a few weeks ago now and it was fun, I enjoyed his company, was going to go on another date if asked. But I never technically was. He's one of those guys who is so non-committal I was beginning to think he just wanted to see what I was up to for no particular reason. He would send texts like "Plans for the weekend?" but then no advancement on that except text messages at 2am saying "this is super fun, you should be out!". As I said, totally random and I was already unimpressed.
He'd managed to finally get his kilt together after weeks of random communication and organise for some tickets for us to see some comedy the other night and I agreed because I thought he was worth at least another drink to get to know him better (he must have done something right with the brunch). Then the unthinkable happened. He actually tried to scab a lift off me! To the date!
Unfortunately this was the death nell for old Braveheart. For all the pissing about and then scumming a lift off me, on the other side of town too, was all too much for me and I let him know it. Cancelled the date via text stating that perhaps he should take his mate instead! Honestly,I know I've dodged a bullet with this one! He may have been the one that was hung, drawn and quartered in this instance but I'm the one whooping "FREEEEEDOMMMMM!!!!".