Blind Date 2

 

Jan Balonky’s Dating Habits

Jan, 44

Vital Statistics: Divorced in 2018; 8 children

Current Role: Pornographer

Would Like To Meet: Olly Murs

DATING PAST: I used to go swinging a lot. My ex-husband and I believed in an open marriage. It all went Pete Tong at an Illuminati orgy in some dodgy celebrity mansion one night. I won’t name names, but there were naked people in masks just slipping into me from the rear all night. My ex-husband couldn’t get himself excited, he said it was too busy. They were all coming on my butt-cheeks. I’ve never gobbled off so many party goers in all my life. My jaw was numb and aching from it. I never swallow, though, just so you know. I always let it drool down my chin. Some disgusting pervert woman started licking it off my breasts. Her name was Sylvia. She was collecting the man-fat on a silver platter for some mad reason, and gargling it. Completely disgusting.

PRE-DATE NERVES: I always up my botox game before a date, so my boat race (face) is nice and plump. I’m a sucker for make-up, the more the better. My aim is to look like a pantomime horse. You should see my mince pies (eyes). I get lots of comments about them. Guys say they fall into them like oceanic depths.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: My most recent date was what I call a Mister Man. He thought he was the bomb. Always in his phone, every two plus five minutes. Suave suit from Armani, Hugo boss watch this and Hugo Boss watch that. Nothing but a big fat show off. As soon as he found out I was a pornographer he started feeling down his pants a lot, as if he couldn’t wait to get hardo and ram it in my quim. Little did he know that I don’t work that way. It’s at least three dates until my knickers hit the deck.

EASY TO TALK TO: Mister Man was a complete dick. What kind of a guy has a brown wallet? He said he was privately educated and a graduate of Bright Futures School. The only bright thing about him was his dentures. I couldn’t trust a thing he rambled on about BitCoin, or stocks and shares, or negative equity properties. I was f**king bored silly. When I tried to drop my own hobbies in there, like floristry and sewing, he stared at me as if I’d just asked him to lick off my bleached arse hole. Absolutely no interest in the comings and goings of the opposite sex. I’ve no time for the wannabe high-flying showman.

EMBARRASSING MOMENTS: When he lit up a cigar. And when he insisted on paying. He was wadded, I’ll give that to him, but it takes more than cold hard tender to worm your way into my good books. More than a firm solid todger as well. I like to be read to, or cooked for, you know, really cherished. You can’t just offer to pay for the truffles and expect a nosh round the back alley, or in the hotel room later. It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid, Mister Man. Let’s just settle the bill 50/50. I’ll pay one half, you pay the other. I’m a professional working woman who can pay her way anytime with anyone, anytime or anyplace. That’s the way I roll. I’m the amazing Jan Balonky.

DID SPARKS FLY: None what so ever. He had all the charisma of a retired janitor. I’m sprightly and eloquent and bubbly and confident and chatty, nothing like him at all. I got the feeling he was just out to impress me. Leave it to me to do the impressing, with my body modifications and my make-up. His attire wasn’t even up to all that much, as it was too tight on him, and he wasn’t in as good a shape as he thought he was. Middle age crisis type, if you ask me. Ugh, keep away!

SEE HIM AGAIN: I’d rather be linked up as part of the Human Centipede than date Mister Man again. His stupid accent was beginning to do my nut in once we got to the dessert. He came across as a snob with resentments to strong powerful femininity. He didn’t know how to handle me.

WHAT DO YOU THINK HE THOUGHT OF YOU: I think he thought I was an easy lay, because of the way I look and because of my porno background. Nothing could be further from the truth. If he was a poet or something, or a musician, I’d understand his confidence, but he was nothing but a no-mark in an Armani suit with Boss this and that. Plus his head was stuck in his phone.

WOULD YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS LIKE HIM: I know several friends who he might actually rub off on, but my parents wouldn’t let him through the door.

Blind Date

 This week I thought I’d look at my girl Jan Balonky’s dating habits.

Jan, 44

Vital Statistics: Divorced in 2018; 8 children.

Current Role: Apprentice Porn Star

Would Like To Meet: Someone like Simon Cowell

DATING PAST? I was married for ten years, but my husband divorced me because I started swinging. This was after I shat out eight God Forbids (kids) to the bloke. I was swinging on Wigan car parks after hours at Pennington Flash. I’m not fussy, but one dude called Dave from Hull used to insist about getting his nut-sack on the rear view mirror and taking JPEGs off it steaming up. When I gobbled him off he used to pull my weave out while erupting down my gob.

PRE-DATE NERVES? When I’m going on a date I always tart up. I love hearing about new people’s stories in my life. I’m interested in their job, their life, their family roles. I’m not arrogant though.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS? I didn’t fancy my last date, Nigel. He looked like a rag ‘n’ bone man, turning up in his Hi-Vis vest and rigger boots. He had a mouth like a sailor, effin’ this and effin’ that. When I mentioned I was into porn though he livened up a lot and suggested blowin’ his beans down my pussy-ole.

EASY TO TALK TO? Nigel was a dipstick with no vocabulary. He had a speech impediment and brown teeth. I noticed crumbs of food in his beard. He said he grew up in Borstal, so that explains why he was tryin’ to act hard all the time. We disagreed on almost everything he mentioned, including who should have won the FA Cup. He’s got football on the brain, and it seemed like he was out the back for a smoke every five plus ten minutes. I tried to drop him hints by playing on my phone but he wouldn’t bite the bait. One look at my tits and he thought he was in all night long time. He wanted my bosom for a pillow.

EMBARRASSING MOMENTS? When hot cheese started melting out of his deli sandwich and dribbling down his chin I wanted to call it a day. The way he childishly wiped it away though was quite endearing. Then was the time he blew his arse – the fetid creature stank of rotten sh*t. I told him to get his rump checked out, it smelled like a rat had crawled up there and given up. He was a f**king cheapskate as well, turning his nose up at the £15 steak.

DID SPARKS FLY? Zippo. We for sure weren’t singing from the same hymn sheet. I’m chic and trendy and confident – Nigel was a dustman on steroids.

SEE HIM AGAIN? I’d rather date Joey Essex than meet up with Nigel again. All he kept looking at was my cleavage. By the end of the date I was asking my Ex what he was up to!

WHAT DO YOU THINK HE THOUGHT OF YOU? I couldn’t give a flying rat’s f**k. He’s as dumb as a doornail. I’d rather staple my ears to a horse than let Nigel anywhere near within a mile of my back doors. He couldn’t kick in a militant’s head.

WOULD YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS LIKE HIM? Nigel would never get that far. We are just too different. I’m the amazing Jan Balonky; he is just another waste-man.