In any event, I did not feel like I got a real chance to show my skills. The classes were enormous and totally oversubscribed, leaving very little room for movement. I kept bumping into people and getting my own toes stepped on. Not fun. Additionally, it seemed like some of the patrons' 24 hr deodorant protection only lasted 10 hours, and my eyes were soon glistening with tears as a result of the acrid smell of sweaty underarms. The room itself was very warm, so this did not add to my enjoyment. Needless to say, I was not a very attentive, committed pupil and the eyes of weird, tusty looking men on my form also did not help my comfort levels (although there was one stunner who kept staring at me - high five!). After 10 minutes of bruised toes, burning nostrils and the searing virtual pain from the eyes boring into my ass as I 1-2-3'ed, I stepped to the side and called it quits. It was a sad day for the men of London but a great day for my feet.
The date itself was also a bit bleh. Nice dude, but waaaaaaay too eager for my liking. I foresee a lifetime of clinginess with this one, who already wants to come to my house. Today. Ummm....no.
But as always - it's a great story for my grandkids one day. If I ever get to the point of populating my uterus.