For all those out there wishing they were sharing today with a special someone, we've asked Champion Up North's unluckiest in love to shed some light on their worst dates ever. We can look back and laugh now and we hope that these stories will help you remember that it's not all roses, champagne and chocolate.
Back before I was a cynical bitch, I was actually quite romantic. So when the Valentines plans with my first boyfriend fell through, I offered to buy and make us dinner. Whilst he sat and played video games.
I cooked us up a (vegan!) meal from scratch, poured the sparkling wine and turned up Marvin Gaye before laying out some candles I had brought with me.
Before I proceed I have to mention an integral part to the story. On several occasions we had ended up falling out because he insisted on playing with candle wax in restaurants. It wound me up and he knew it. Nobody else's boyfriend had their fingers in the candles.
So, 2 minutes into the meal and he starts playing with the FUCKING candles. I asked him patiently to please, just, NOT.
Of course this turned into a huge row leading up to him storming out, not before leaping up, shouting ‘FINE!’, thrusting his hand into the candles, spilling wax out everywhere and totally spoiling the mood.
Needless to say, I had the last laugh when he had to come back in the room to wash his now burnt hand under the cold tap. HA.
I made out with this guy in a club and we subsequently went for drinks.
First of all, he was no where near as hot as I remembered but that was fine, I am not that shallow (not always). Secondly, he was weird.
I remember there was a football match on TV; he kept on shouting at it and told me about how much he hated his mother. I am not sure the two things were related.
Eventually I managed to persuade him to go somewhere else – with the hidden agenda being that my best friend was there and supported me for a bit. Excited by the presence of a third person, he started talking about politics. I am Italian and I like talking about politics but...really? On a first date? BOOOOOOOORING.
If only it ended there. While we were walking back he took my hand. I excused myself several times and tried to smile at his stories about heroine-loaded weekends where he forgot to eat and such.
When we finally got to my street, he suggested coming in to give me “a massage in bed”. I wanted to die. But I had to get rid of him. I pointed at something in the dark and, as soon as he turned his back, I ran away.
We exchanged numbers as I was about to jump into a taxi in the early hours of the morning. He'd asked for directions and just so happened to be quite easy on the eyes.
After a few days of seamless texting, Liam and I arranged to see each other the following weekend. I was quite nervous as he was incredibly keen and I started to doubt the integrity of our brief intoxicated encounter. He was from the other side of town so I travelled to the city centre and he picked me up from there. Amid discussing where we should go for lunch, as a Vegetarian at the time, I found myself in an unexpected disagreement about free-range eggs. We changed the subject, although, by this stage it was too late and his mood completely changed. Instead of eating out, he suggested we just buy some take-away and go to his.
Liam had excused himself to go to the bathroom when I received a text from him asking to please call in five minutes to say he is needed elsewhere. A drawn-out time later, he sheepishly re-emerged and attempted to pass the text off as a joke. I gathered this was probably a good opportunity to leave - I'm quite cluey, you see. Due to the brisk unraveling of the date, I daftly left without my bag so he had to turn back half way and, on collection of the bag, he opted to just leave me at his local cross-country train station. I spent the two-hour journey home in disbelief. I was never to see Liam again and I haven't discussed free-range eggs since.