“But you must meet loads of people singing in your Arabic band.” Rob, 35, managing director from Wilmslow wasn’t fanciable at all but at least he was tall.
Well, yes, I did meet men when singing and if my type was enormous Saudi Arabian truck drivers who ripped the heads of elegant bouquets, followed me round all night booming: ‘Just ONE kiss, and cornered me informing me: “I’ve got my eyes on you!”, I was sorted.
Then: “I used to be a HEROIN ADDICT!” Rob announced. WTF??!!
“Yes, my best friend’s a PROSTITUTE and she’s a really nice PERSON!” he screeched. Note to self: my local is not the best place to meet internet dates….
“Er, would you like another drink?” I offered, needing a breather.
“Yeah, arrrghh!Round of applause, round of applause!”The pint glass, along with my reputation, had shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Haha, excellent! Daaaave!” He beckoned to the nervous looking barman. “Pint of MILK please!”
Milk??? He’d be asking me for cuddles next and telling me he had ‘a poorly tummy’.
“Yeah, my friends all warned me about dating a singer!”he laughed.
Er, on what planet was ‘singer’ worse than prostitute or heroin addict?! Oh yes, Planet Section Me!
I began singing and he continued to roar as though at a lap dancing bar throughout my entire performance.
“I’m a prospective suitor of Danielle!” he roared, just as the music stopped.
Great- another bar I could no longer visit!
And he’d seemed so normal in his messages, and on the phone too. Had there ever been a greater madman magnet than me?!
Back to square one!
Oh, Paul from Barnsley had pubic hair – that was a relief, and Borat’s brother reassured me: “I really do like rite something good for lady. I interested and like it.”
I scrolled down a further 500 photos of lobotomised men – note, taking a selfie does not result in a high IQ face
“Hi, listen, I’m really sorry, I won’t be able to make it tomorrow, I told Matt, from Stockport. “I’ll be washing my hair in cow’s urine, Goodnight! “
The Dating Ambassador 