It is 12.00am on a Friday morning. I have not long got home from another first date. It appears I still haven’t learnt my lesson, that I attract guys from the strange walks of life. Unfortunately I cannot blame Tinder for this one, I totally blame Bumble and my own lack of judgement.
So, spending the night swiping through the app I looked at this guy’s profile. Instead of pictures of him in Thailand on some exotic animal, wrestling a tiger or skiing, there was a fancy dress picture of him in a dress. Fair play I thought, it was certainly different and quite cute, he also described himself as the real Ross Gellar. So as per bumble rules, I had to message within 24hrs. I sent a message complimenting on his ability to pull off a dress, wig and knee high socks. After a few messages we were getting on really well, seemed to have the same humour and both liked similar music, always a winner. After a few days chatting we swapped numbers and arranged a date, to some quirky bar with my kind of music. I wasn’t really nervous or bothered about this one, I thought of it as just going out with a mate after how well we had gotten on. I didn’t even have an advance outfit planned or hair & make up, not like me at all. I always have a date outfit planned at least 3 days in advance in my head!
I turned up early for once; he was sat waiting with a White Russian (WTF milk on a night out?!) for himself and a standard southern comfort for me. First impressions, not at all what I would normally go for at all but he came across alright. He looked a lot different from his pictures and had the strangest accent that took me by surprise, almost as much as how he pronounced the word ‘practice’ as ‘pratice’. We had a nice chat but it quickly became apparent that it was all business. I didn’t fancy him at all, no little sparks, no laughs and there weren’t enough pints in the word that would tempt me to a sleepover! He pointed out that he had small hands for some reason, then I was mesmerized, they made mine look massive, I refrained from a previous small hand joke, totally inappropriate.
I made the excuse that I wanted to beat the late night scramble for a taxi and said I was leaving. He offered me money for my cab, which I didn’t take and walked me to the taxi rank. I gave him a hug, skilfully swerved the attempt at a kiss and gave the ‘thanks for a nice night and it was nice to meet you’ brush off line, which I have learnt is code for ‘thanks but no thanks’. This did not work, as his parting line as i closed the taxi door happy i didn’t get asked for a second date, was ‘I will throw you a text and we will sort something out’. I clearly need to come up with a more inventive/brutal way to end dates successfully. i could use a line used on me the other week..’well, i’m sure i will speak to you again at some point’. a personal favorite brush off, straight to the point, leaving no room for hope.
I am a firm believer in personality, laughter and butterflies; I’m not one to go for looks. Looks fade over time, so if you’re with some absolute wanker who is hot as hell, eventually when their looks fade away, you will be left with just an absolute wanker.
With that said, they should ideally be a two pint minimum on the sleepover scale.