I get the wooden spoon.

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I’ve had a few dates over the last couple of months with a lovely Italian girl that lives in York.

She doesn’t give anything away so I’m as in the dark about how I’m doing as anyone, but I do have a few clues that she is not quite as impressed with me as I am with her.

Her ex-husband is a web developer and has earned £200-300 per day on occasions during his career, so she is far from impressed by my rates at Jezebel Design.

The previous time I saw her went ok, although she did go a little shy on me when I asked for a kiss goodnight, which came as a bit of a shock as she is the most confident person I’ve ever met. In fact, shortly after I got my peck on the cheek she noticed a man at a second floor window baring his buttocks and proceeded to whistle so loudly I think most builders would be put to shame.

And the last time we met up we went to the cinema in York and then on to a pub to have something to eat. It was one of those places where you get given a wooden spoon to take to your table. Everything seemed to be going ok despite me beating her, in a very ungentlemanly way, in an arm wrestle, but then I suddenly became conscious of the fact she was hitting me with the wooden spoon. I had half a mind to ask if she was affectionately hitting me with a wooden spoon or just hitting me with a wooden spoon, but I thought I might not like the answer.

Anyway, this is my cowardly way of saying “I may have to put my prices up a little“, but don’t worry, only very slightly and I’m still one of the cheapest you’ll find!!


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