CHAPTER FIVE

      NADIA drank three huge glasses of ice-cold water but was still hotter than a Habanero chilli. Her hands shook as she tossed the glass into the sink and she didn’t care when it shattered against the stainless steel. She bent her head and berated herself some more. She was furious. And he’d pay. He’d damn well pay for being such a player.

      She stalked to her computer and pulled up the WomanBWarned blog, not stopping to think, just letting the words write themselves.

       So, as you’ve read over on the Mr 3 Dates and You’re Out thread, the man himself has challenged me to go on three dates with him—so he can prove he’s not the use-her and lose-her jerk he’s portrayed to be. Interesting idea, don’t you think? And what does it tell us about the man himself—conceited, much?

       It’s the absolute zenith of arrogance that he thinks he can somehow “win me over” in three dates. He is so cocksure of his attractiveness that he thinks he’ll prove what a “nice guy” he really is …

       But I’m fair, willing to give him the time to try, so I said yes and brought my open mind with me.

       So let’s talk about the first date—he went with the movie idea. As we know, from his new GuysGetWise blog, he’s of the opinion that a movie is a good option—despite reading my view that its not the best first date option. Proof that while the guy might say he wants women to “share”, he’s not actually listening to what we say or want.

       So I selected a three-hour foreign film that totally sucked. I chose it because he wasn’t getting any “chick flick, happy ending hormones” from me. Oh, no. In truth my favourite kind of movie is actually a good thriller or a cut-’em-up horror. I like the adrenalin. But why should he get the benefit from the kind of movie I like? Isn’t it up to him to give me the buzz—just from his company?

       So lesson number one for Mr 3 Dates: you can’t stereotype women. We all have different tastes. And guess what? You are not my favourite flavour.

       Sure, you’re good-looking, but is there anything beneath your pretty surface? Not so far as I can tell. Ladies, let me sum up what I learned about him tonight:

       Mr 3 Dates is the kind of guy who tops up your wine glass when you’re not looking.

       Mr 3 Dates is the kind of guy who thinks a fancy restaurant with beautiful food is all the effort he needs to put in.

       Mr 3 Dates is the kind of guy who shrugs off any personal questions as if he’s afraid he’ll reveal something vulnerable that a woman might use “against” him—like the enemy he sees us as. He’s all about the hunt and women are the prey.

       Yes, so far, Mr 3 Dates is totally living up to the rep he’s been given online. Without doubt he’s a player. The ball’s in his court to try prove otherwise. My advice to him?

       Try harder.

      Ethan read the blog post that had already appeared by the time he’d power-walked the half-hour home. Not that it had dispelled any of the energy cramping his muscles. He went to the cupboard and poured a whisky, knocking it back neat. It burned. But not as much as what she’d written. What? It was his fault she’d been thirstier than a fish? Not for the wine but for his kisses! She hadn’t been able to get enough. But had she admitted that? Hell, no. She couldn’t face reality at all—certainly couldn’t admit to her own responsibility, her own desires. She’d just warp speeded her way back to Planet Nadia.

      Well, he was going to get her to face it even if it killed him. Which it might very well do. Sure, he got what she was saying about her ex. The guy was a total user and an absolute jerk. But Ethan wasn’t anything like him. He respected women. And what was so wrong with taking her to a nice restaurant? He totally didn’t deserve this—and look how conveniently she’d skipped over half the date, the important half. Riled beyond the rational, he opened up his own blog and shredded her right back.

      Date Number One is Done.

      So Ms OlderNWiser went out with me tonight. The Date Movie. Now, all’s fair in love and war, and as this is war she’d read my blog. So she said no to the pizza first. And no to the chick flick. Instead she made like she was “desperate” to see one of those arty things with subtitles that goes for hours. To my surprise, I found it not bad, but I suspect it’s not her usual thing because she got fidgety. And—oh, look—she’s written up the date on her blog already. Yeah, not her usual style. She likes horror? How appropriate.

       However, as the flick tonight was in French, it was the perfect segue into one of the best restaurants in the city. I’d texted from the cinema and got us a table before the film even started—lesson for you, guys: always be ready to adapt and recover a date that’s going sideways. And, for the record, I’d still recommend the chick flick. Horror is for cowards who are too afraid to face their own personal demons, so they try to get the cathartic effect by riding on other people’s nightmares.

       Anyway, the restaurant. From her blog you’d think she wasn’t that impressed. Maybe not with me, but the food for sure—she orgasmed her way through two desserts. Or maybe she was faking it, because I suspect her tastebuds can’t cope with anything more than bland.

       Most interestingly, if you go to her What Not To Do on the First Date blog-post, you’ll see she has five “don’ts” listed. Guess how many of her own rules she broke tonight, boys?

       Yeah. You got it.

       All five.

       She went to the movies. She drank (and she asked me to fill her glass, by the way). She talked about her ex. She definitely tried too hard—as in tried not to have a good time—but in the end she couldn’t resist …

       Yeah, I know what you’re wondering about most—too sexual?

       Well, if making the first move on the first date makes a woman too sexual, then, yeah, she checked that box too.

       But let me say this. A gentleman always sees a lady safely home. A gentleman doesn’t take advantage of a lady’s indiscretion. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.

      Ms OlderNWiser however—does she tell?

       Not the truth, it seems.

      And why is that? Well, why should she, when from the convenient anonymity of her online “user”