I’ve had one of those Ÿ??long distance admirersŸ? on my case for quite a while Ÿ?? you may know the type, wants to take me out, wants to wine me and dine me, and wants to marry me and treat me like a Princess for the rest of my life. The problem is, like most men, these desires come and go, coinciding with a rush of blood from the brain down to the lower regions of his body (well, more like the middle regions I guess!). He sends me slushy messages, with all sorts of well intentioned Ÿ??promisesŸ?, but in view of the fact he resides abroad (the Isle of Man is abroad isn’t it?), and bearing in mind the fact that these ideas tend to ebb and flow in time with the rush of blood between his brain and other bits, nothing ever comes to fruition. I’ve always known who and what I am, and have always been willing to help these poor souls along with their little fantasies, however, there is a time when the same slush becomes boring. After a further while, it then becomes a plain nuisance. Yes, you guessed it; he had managed to get an NVQ level 5 in Ÿ??NuisanceŸ?. So I told him. Best way I always believe Ÿ?? let people know where they stand. Or where in fact, they don’t. Basically, I suggested that he Ÿ??put up, or shut upŸ?. He opted for Ÿ??put up!Ÿ? Now that was a surprise. He decided he would fly to Manchester, stay over for a couple of days, and take me out for a meal. Not being one to go back on my word, I accepted his invitation, agreed a date with him, and was prepared to carry on with my life as normal until the fateful day. If only it was that simple! He was now in panic mode. The blood was in the brain, so he didn’t really have the bottle to do it, but every so often it rushed downwards and made it all seem like a good idea. I lost count of the messages he sent me Ÿ?? well over 40, all double checking that I would still turn up. What would I wear? Where would we go? Would he be safe going out with me, or would he be burnt at the stake? Was there somewhere in The Village we could go? And on and on and on. My patience was wearing thin, and I eventually sent him a short sharp email explaining that my outfit would be appropriate for the evening; I would not be eating in The Village Ÿ?? it was Town or nowhere, and if he was scared of being seen out in public with me to cancel the flight and Hotel, and stay at home. I also suggested that he found something better to do than sending me messages about nothing. Looking back, I was probably pretty hard on him, but it had to be done. The man was falling apart! He settled down to life on the Island, and managed to send me less messages, and we eventually had a date, a time, and a meeting place. He also told me where we were eating Ÿ?? I guess he was fishing to see if it would be OK. It was a place I hadn’t eaten at before, and it was in Town, so I told him all was well. He had booked the meal for 7-00pm Ÿ?? an early start so we got more time together, so I suggested we met in Via at around 6-00pm or just after so that I could park on the car park at 6-00pm and get the overnight rate (No. I wasn’t stopping over with him; it’s just a cheaper way to park. Honestly your minds!) Another few messages saw the time draw nearer, and eventually, the day arrived. I wore a nice new purple and silver dress, with matching purple heels, matching underwear (for my benefit, not necessarily his), and some lovely new jewellery that also matched the design of the dress. Topped off with a little black fur shrug, I felt that I looked as a minimum, OK. Within five minutes of meeting, he expressed a slight disappointment that I wasn’t wearing stockings! Why would I wear stockings in a dress that was so short they would show? You just can’t please some people! And bear in mind the fact that this is from a man who has turned up in jeans, a white Tee shirt with a tartan shirt over it and an anorak type jacket. I sometimes wonder! Anyway, never judge a book by its cover, or a man by his anorak. Give him chance; he might be all right once I get him down to the tartan shirt and jeans. I suppose he had one thing going for him Ÿ?? he had at least turned up. He had sent me some pictures so that I could recognise him, but it wouldn’t have mattered Ÿ?? he was good to spot. He was the guy stood at the bar shaking! We said our hello’s, he bought me a diet coke, and we made light conversation, until it was time to walk around the corner and get a cab. We were going to Bills ( www.bills-website.co.uk/restaurants/manchester ), which is located at 8-12 John Dalton Street, Manchester M2 6JP. It was only a 5-10 minute taxi journey, so we were in good time and we continued to manage to make conversation throughout the journey, so all was going well. On entering the Restaurant, we were shown straight in to a table which was in booth type surroundings along with another table occupied by a couple I guessed to be in their thirties. I sat down and made myself comfortable, eagerly awaiting the removal of the anorak, so that I could get the full benefit of the tartan shirt. I had a good view of what was going on from where I was sat, and it was obvious that there was plenty going on. A Hen party of Girls were just to our right, and several other tables were occupied by people various. There were several waiters and waitresses busily dashing around, but amazingly, the first one to come and ask us for a drinks order was a lad I had seen around The Village over the years, so of course, he asked how I was and we had a quick chat. This seemed to unnerve my date Ÿ?? it was almost as if the fact that I had been recognised meant that he had? I ask you! Anyway, I settled him down, and talked through the Menu with him, making sure I got something to eat before he bottled it all together. He wasn’t bothering with a starter, and decided that the Bill’s beer-battered cod, with minted peas, pickled onion, skin-on fries and tartare sauce would be his choice. This sent out a message with regard to budget Ÿ?? a guy takes you out and basically picks fish and chips off the menu without a starter. What was I to do? Should I be polite and also decide that I wouldn’t have a starter, and pick out a cheap main course option, or should I just pick out what I actually wanted and let him suffer the consequences. It wasn’t a big dilemma; after all I deserved something good for the sheer hassle factor of the date! I was having what I fancied! I chose crab, chilli and prawn cakes with baby gem, mango, and spring onion salad to start with, and followed it with pan-fried sea bass with chunky tomato, avocado, and caper salsa with a crispy spring onion and parsley potato rosti. I also added a portion of sweet potato fries just for luck. Lots of spring onion in my choices Ÿ?? hope I didn’t have to kiss anyone later! The food was good, and served with smiles, and we had several drinks over the course of the meal, all of which also came with smiles, and none of the other diners gave us a second glance. The couple next to us left, but not without speaking, and two girls took their place – again, not without speaking. I think in all honesty by the time we were ready for leaving, my date did accept the fact that you can actually eat out in main stream Manchester with a Transvestite without being chased out of Town. I also learned that a man in a red tartan shirt can be reasonable company once you’ve got over the initial nerves and fear. We managed to make reasonable meaningful conversation, and I learnt that he was an ordinary guy who had gone one step further with his fantasies than many others would ever do, so I respected him for that. Anyway, don’t be misled; the food bit isn’t over yet. We’ve had the Starter and the Main Course, but I haven’t mentioned the dreaded Dessert bit. Tonight it wasn’t a problem. My dietary intake had been well prepared over the preceding days, and budget or no budget, I was having a Dessert. The only decision to be made was what to have. It didn’t’ take me long to choose three flavours of ice cream Ÿ?? chocolate, honeycomb, and caramel, and it took me even less time to eat it. I was quite surprised by the fact that he also had a Dessert, deciding to do battle with the lemon meringue cheesecake in a glass. A battle he lost, only managing half of it, but I think it was probably still a touch of nerves and maybe some hopeful anticipation that was affecting his appetite. All in all, I had enjoyed the evening so far Ÿ?? it was now around 11-00pm, so we had made the meal last, and managed to talk all evening. I had learned a little about him, and I guess he had learned a lot about me. I went to powder my nose while he paid the bill Ÿ?? I hate to see a grown man cry. I therefore can’t really comment with regard to the cost. I could add things up off the on-line menu, but I’m not going to do. He paid, so I’ll leave it at that. I can report, however that the facilities are all fine! He had spent the last thirty minutes or so fishing around the possibilities that laid ahead for the rest of the evening Ÿ?? I’m sure you can guess what he had in mind. I didn’t feel I had to Ÿ??earnŸ? my meal, I think I had already more than done that, so I was able to decide with an open mind what we did next. I will be discrete, and leave the rest of the evening to your imagination. All I will say is that he remained polite and respectful, and I enjoyed the latter part of the date as much as I enjoyed the meal. He has kept in touch, and has in fact asked if he could take me away for the weekend. Again, I think at this stage, discretion dictates that I will keep my answer to myself, but we all now that if I do in fact take him up on the offer, I will probably write a bloody blog about it! All I have to do now is tick the final three boxes: Is Bills TV friendly? It certainly is Ÿ?? it’s very friendly. Value for money? I explained above Ÿ?? I don’t know! Would I go again? Yes I would Ÿ?? it’s nothing special, but it does what it says on the tin and does it well!