There are many things I would consider trying. Try everything once they say. Throw yourself out of an airplane, eat a dish of octopus, even pot-holing in Wales. But going on a blind date? Frankly I'd rather run into a wall with forks in my eyes. So when I decided to go on a blind date for LoveGirls in the name of research, I did so with a large helping of cynicism and low expectations.

Who exactly goes on blind dates these days? Does anyone ever admit to it let alone write about it? Anyway, I'm always ready to take one for the team so what follows is an account of my experiences with 'Sleepless in Enfield'.

It's Monday morning, and the mail pops into my Inbox as promised from a friend who shall remain nameless. Everyone here shall remain anonymous for reasons that should be pretty bloody obvious. A description is enclosed of my proposed blind date. Apparently, she is "attractive with long dark hair, a hot bod and a good sense of humour". We agree to meet on Wednesday evening, 7:30 at my pub near my house. After reading the description I manage to muster a small degree of anticipation.

Wednesday inevitably arrives. I'm now wishing I can turn back time or click my heels together or... or something! I consider not going and parking myself in front of the TV instead. My conscience gets the better of me and I get ready to go. I arrive on time and wait outside as agreed. 7:30 comes, and then goes. I start think she had similar ideas about not turning up. Then just as I'm looking at my watch deciding how long to give her, I hear "Toni?".

I look up and see her removing an open face motorcycle helmet looking like she was just fired out of a cannon. We say our greetings and head inside the pub. The place was pretty busy, not exactly a great choice for a 'get to know you' session. We head to the bar and order, a red bull for me, a Smirnoff Ice for her.

To try and break the ice I suggest a game of pool. At least I'd be able to check her out a bit more without her noticing while she takes her shots. She hands me a cue and for first time I made proper eye contact with her. I hold her gaze, and in those few seconds, try to figure her out. She smiles and I cant help but smile back as some seriously "inappropriate on a first date" thoughts enter my head.

After racking up the balls, she gestures for me to start. More keen to win the game than impress her we start playing. After a few shots she pots the black. I can't help but smile, I look up to see she has the cutest pout on her face. She wants to continue minus the black, so we both half-heartedly carry on playing. Things actually seem to be going pretty well. She does have a killer body and is pretty funny, okay really funny! At one point when she's telling me a story about coming out to her college friends I was almost doubled over with laughter.

"Wanna game of doubles?" I hear a voice say. As if by magic, a guy has appeared next to me, wielding a half-full pint glass. His mate stands sheepishly behind and offers what looks like a grin. "Or maybe a foursome?!", Half-Pint adds, clearly amused by his own witty chatup line. Sheep chuckles and starts to edge his way closer to my date. In no mood for mincing words I blurt to Half-Pint, "We're here on a date." Half-Pint looks confused. I decide to help him out by saying "with each other!" gesturing to my date who at this point was giving Sheep the look of death. Cutting their loses, they leave and look for fresh targets.

We play a few more games of pool and then sit down to chat some more. The trouble is because I know I have to write about the date, I can't help but feel I'm interviewing her. Before long she starts to tell me about her Ex, her third Smirnoff Ice seeming to switch her into 'life-story' mode and there's no stopping her. She tells me she has been single for a year, ever since her last long-term relationship broke up. I hear every conceivable detail of her past relationship, nodding and smiling on cue and praying to God that the Red Bull keeps me awake.

The night drags on and she continues to drink and I don't, so that fantastic time she thinks were having is a bit one sided. I now know more about her Ex than I do about her. In fact at this point I'm thinking I'm on a date with the wrong half of the broken relationship and consider the consequences of asking for her Ex's number. She compliments me on being great to talk to, a nice listener but in reality I've been bored to tears of what is now looking more like a counselling session than a date.

By 10:30 she is more worse for wear than merry and I suddenly remember she arrived by motorbike. I suggest that I call a taxi to take her home. She claims she is fine but is clearly not. I excuse myself and head to the loo, at this point I just want to go home so I call a taxi to pick her up. It arrives 20 minutes later and I struggle to coax her towards it convincing her that her bike will be fine and still there in the morning. We hug and say some vague goodbyes, holding my hand she asks when she will see me again and suggests a second date on Friday. I'm not keen but say yes just to get her in the taxi.

I'm home by 11:15 feeling more than a little disappointed about how it had all gone. I can't help but wonder if the whole experience would have been more bearable and with a different outcome had I had a few drinks or been the kind of person who can shrug off a bit of drink driving but I didn't and I'm not. I'm going to have to find a way out of this second date. I know plenty of women would be jumping at the chance to date this woman, I just don't think she's the right person for me ...

If you met your current girlfriend from a blind date or your blind date went worse than mine add a comment and and tell me all about it!