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Once you reach a certain number of dates, around about the 400 mark, you are often able to make decisions as to what will constitute a good date, and what will not. For example, if he suggests going bar-hopping, you know that you’ll probably be leaving his place at 7am like this:


Whereas if he suggests a coffee date, it’s quite obvious that you’ll be leaving with no real idea of who he is, apart from the fact he wears bogie green knitwear and drinks caramel Frappucinos. So, here’s just five of reasons to swerve the Starbucks. HINT: It’s most because of lack of alcohol.

There’s no possibility for sex

Like, who has one too many Lattes and gets so wasted they wake up the next day, like where the fuck am I? And where the hell is my underwear? Nobody. “But dates aren’t always about sex!” True. But there’s always going to be those situations where the guy is attractive, but he’s blander than biscotti. You know them ones, where you’re more than happy to bang, but don’t ever want to see them again after that. How does that happen after lunchtime tea at Café Nero? It doesn’t. Nobody wants endure another mind-numbing date just for some tail; enter a sexually frustrated walk home, before a few more dry weeks, followed by fornication with someone that you don’t even fancy – or find interesting – but sleep with anyway, because if you don’t have sex immediately you might pull your dick off and set yourself on fire.

…Or, even really a kiss

Even first kisses take courage that doesn’t come from a Cappucino. Secondly, there’s not really any gay coffee shops, so depending on what area you live in, it can be kind of awkward. Don’t get me wrong, it shouldn’t be… But it’s just not the same as making out and having a grope of the goods on the dance floor of a gay bar. It’s not often you see a couple of queens, amongst the sea of abusive pram-pushing mummies, lean over and tongue each other’s coffee breath. And oh God, that coffee breath. The only breath worse is nicotine, GBL and cock.

They’re beyond impersonal

The only places less intimate you could take a date would be to a crowded football stadium or to a cemetery. In fact, I’ve even heard of people fucking in grave yards, but I don’t know a single person that got their jollies over a scone at Costa Coffee. Even bars often have candles on the table, much less the deafening whir of coffee machines and the overzealous waffle of office execs, “let’s go forward, and touch base tomorrow”. Fuck off you loud cunt, I’ll give you a tenner if you can touch your toes, let alone touch base. Following that, coffee dates are so short. Which, is all good when he turns up looking like someone that brutally murdered a bunch of children on the moors in the 80s. But when he’s smoking like hot chocolate, you end up having three double Espressos and going home rattling like a bowling pin.

Conversation has no flow

Everybody knows that as drinks go down, the flirty banter (see: flanter), comes out. Even when you go for dinner, you can have some kind repore, but the environment at Pret A Manger is built for career girls having a quick catch-up, writers poncing the free wifi, and single mums discussing the important issues of breast feeding and burping. Coffee dates are a playground for small talk. And what can you really learn about a guy over a 45 minute chin-wag about the weather and current affairs? Whereas throw a Gin and Tonic down his neck and watch the birdie sing about his childhood issues and his explosive last break-up.

Being sober is boring AF

Finally. And probably most importantly. We all need a break from alcohol at times, but during dates is not one of them. Imagine, leaving your house to go and meet a stranger, and knowing at the end of it, you’re not going to have an orgasm, much less get wankered. Like, actually sitting down with someone when you’re both sober and hearing them talk about their life? ICK. Rather not.