And this is how The Cheeky Charmer begins their 2022 quest for a wife
BY THE CHEEKY CHARMER, IMAGE BY COTTONBRO VIA PEXELS
When I did this before, the best thing anyone asked was: “What kind of biscuit would you be?” Giant chocolate Bourbon obvs – the king of biscuits 🤷♀️.
The evening starts with a bang. I’m matched with a gorgeous, intelligent woman who I’ve been eye-flirting with since she walked in. Something tugs at my mind when she mentions a private members club, but I bat it away, putting a massive tick in her box.
Two dates later, I’m chatting with another gorgeous woman, pen hovering over her box (steady) ready to enter another tick. When she tells me she’s here with her wife, I’m so surprised I almost spit my beer out. Then the private members club makes sense. Dates number one and three are married. They have an open relationship and are here with another woman they’re dating. I totally respect their relationship but I’m not polyamorous. Massively monogamous lesbian, that’s me.
Three out of 10 dates are scratched off my list.
I spend a few dates chatting with lovely women I just don’t fancy. Then Lauren giggles into the seat beside me and my heart beats a little faster. We’ve also been eye-flirting since the start. I ask why she’s here and she replies, “I’m on a date.” I actually spit my beer out this time.
Lauren’s on a third date with Gemma. She wanted to “slow things down” so suggested speed dating. Gemma’s not keen. She’s sat at another table giving me a “stay the fuck away if you like your head attached to your shoulders” look. I do. It’s a nice head.
I don’t go anywhere near that particular box. Two more dates are crossed off my list. We have a break and I replenish the beer I’ve just spat out. The bell rings and I strap myself in for the next round. Then she glides in beside me, Sophia, this vision, this mermaid in human form. She actually shimmers. I am lost for words, bathing in her effervescence.
When I regain my powers of speech, we have a lovely date. There’s a definite connection and the bell rings too soon. As she’s leaving, I tell her how utterly exquisite she is. She blushes, looks me deep in the eyes and squeezes my leg. I put a tick so large in her box it looks like a five-year-old has done it.
And then we’re moving on and I’m chatting to a woman I later discover is a dominatrix. How I did not realise this, given she’s wearing a rubber, spikey dress, I don’t know. But sometimes the Cheeky Charmer can be incredibly naive.
We have a lovely chat about hot chocolate. As in the marshmallow kind. Not a sex thing… wait, was she talking about a sex thing, while I was talking about Nesquick?!
When the evening ends. I tally up the women I’ve had to cross off because we’re not looking for the same thing. Six. Out of 10. The others I didn’t fancy.
I hang around in the bar hoping to catch a glimpse of my mermaid. Then I see her, across the room, making out with one half of the married couple. I’m doing a great impression of a goldfish when she walks over, says “I’m just following my emotions,” before planting a deeply sensual kiss on my lips.
Then she shimmers back to the married couple. I’m not entirely sure what just happened.
I take myself home for a Nesquick, wondering how the night would have turned out if we had stuck to questions about biscuits.
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