Tinder and Blind

A once single Tinder obsessed bad dater London girl living in Dubai, to a step-mum who bagged a boy in Dubai, now living in London
June 15, 2014

Dad always knows best..

It’s Fathers Day today. I’m not spending the day with my dad as he lives abroad, so instead I spent a good while thinking about him and what I’ve learnt from daddy dearest.

Like most father- daughter relationships, I’ve experienced the protectiveness, the ‘you’re so unfair’ arguments after being forbidden to stay out after a certain time, and also the embarassing boyfriend conversations.

So after growing out of my teenage years a good six years ago (ahh), I realised how our relationship has blossomed, ironically since he has lived thousands of miles away from me we’ve become closer than ever.

I wanted to share what has been etched into my memory and advice I would hope to pass onto my own eventual offspring.

Firstly the importance of being open minded and not small minded has been key to my upbringing. This has varied from my brother and I always being taken to the most random restaurants and countries, trying new foods, if we don’t like it then at least we’ve tried it. I’m a stubborn person, so is my dad, so we’ve clashed on many things and I would be the first to say I don’t want to do something out of spite, knowing my dad wanted the opposite reaction. Let’s put that down to a phase. The ‘ewwww mum said sushi is raw fish and makes you sick’ after he tried for ages to get me to try a tiny bit. Well dad, I bloody wish I listened to you sooner, sashimi has changed my life.

Seeing as this is a relationship based blog, the thing that stayed in my memory since my dad told me when I first started at secondary school, yet probably totally ignored up until I was in my late teens was: Never. Chase. Boys. Cliche I know, but so, so true. We girls are all guilty of doing it, but truth is, if a guy wants you badly enough, he will have you. However, there is a flaw in this theory..

It’s usually the guys who want you that are the boring ones, or too keen and needy..us girls like the chase. It’s a catch 22 situation, we’re never happy. We like the initial chase, then if they like us back it’s a buzz. We’ve got them but it quickly gets boring. Prime example: I really liked a guy, when I had an opportune moment I made the first move and got the reaction I wanted. We started seeing eachother, I even sold him into my dad ‘he went to private school dad, he’s got a degree!’ (something none of my previous conquests had, and my dad hated) it got him quite excited. Then it all turned keeno too quickly. Long story short, I didn’t want a relationship and he was a no sex before marriage kinda guy. For me it turned well and truly into the friend zone while he wanted 2.4 children.

Best case scenario? a girl really, really, really likes a guy, girl holds out and keeps her guard up, he likes girl, girl is very happy about this but plays it cool, he ups his game, but plays it cool while taking control and proves he likes girlas much as girl likes him. Happily ever after..Now this does not happen often, at all, so taking my dad’s advice to not chase is the only way of filtering out the arrogant bastards who know/think they’re worthy of our time and effort (do they not realise how long it takes to ‘prepare’ for a date?!) the ones who know we’ll make the effort yet if something comes up with their mates that they ‘have to attend’ and can drop you like it’s telling your nan you can’t make Sunday dinner, then no, they’re not worth the chase. Yet it’s those ones that we hold out for and go back to.

My dad also told me this is what happens.. ‘when you’re older you’ll realise’ it’s not the glorified hunks that are the ones who are loyal and faithful. They are glorified hunks for a reason, to attract modelesque women, but that’s never enough. They may have the most beautiful idealistic woman on their arm, but a blonder or more brunette version will stroll past and he’ll look over his shoulder.

I’m not saying a guy who looks after himself is a love rat (not in my exes case anyway) and all the ugly guys are all loyal and amazing counterparts to a relationship purely because they can’t attract other women; I’m saying the ones who want you and no one else, will work for it rather than knowing what they can get on a plate.

My dad once said to me I deserve to be with someone who would put me on a pedestal, I disagree, that’s no fun. But that’s something all dads want to see for their little girls I guess. For me it’s about never having to rely on a man for any kind of security apart from the protective kind. If you can stand on your own two feet then you will never have a problem if times are tough. That’s just me though and many will like the fact they can ask their partners for their credit card to buy a cute dress for dinner. Don’t get me wrong, I would never be ungrateful for a dress (preferably a Victoria Beckham LBD), but there’s a difference to being handed something without thought, and being bought a gift.

There are some things I don’t agree with my dad on, he’s quite old fashioned in some ways but I know he has become more relaxed since having a new woman in his life. I remember giving him advice on how women work when he was first courting his now fiance- I do believe I taught him a fair few things about playing hard to get in order to keep her on her toes. He’s a hopeless romantic is my dad, and I know that’s ultimately what I want in a man, to just randomly receive flowers for absolutely no reason at all (as opposed to either associated guilt or forced romance i.e Valentines Day, no thanks) or be whisked away for a weekend. He’s got it right, now.

Up until now, every relationship I’ve been in has been me taking the lead, me organising any trip/holiday/dinner/bill paying, I have never had a proactive boyfriend because I wanted to mould them into what I wanted, I thought I could change my past relationships into my idea of perfection, rather than letting it be or meeting someone who was naturally in synch with myself, I took the people whom I just thought were ‘ok’ for me, and attempted to be the world’s perfect girlfriend, avoiding arguments like the plague, not minding when I get a text on a Wednesday morning letting me know they went out the night before and got hammered. Being too laid back maybe.

What I hate about getting into relationships is the associaton of just that. Sacking your mates off to see your boyfriend/girlfriend= melt, bore, changed. If you’re not in a relationship but just ‘seeing’ someone it’s far more acceptable to ditch after-work drinks for a date, for the possibility of getting your leg over you’re a ‘lad’ (if you’re a guy, obvs) and snapping a pic of her bra on the floor to post in your whatsapp group is what, just the done thing these days isn’t it? Who cares if it’s your missus’ bra on the floor, booooring.

It’s sad that not everyone can just be friends without having that segregation of ‘oh I’ve got to get home early else he’ll just text me all night’. This is why I’m well and truly taking on the next bit of advice from father: Wait. There is no rush, there’s no point in forcing it. Yes, this blog was intended to record my learnings and experiences from forced dates with the likes of Tinder being a catalyst, and to be fair it’s been a nice release, to write again, but am I (personally) really desperate to find my Mr Right that I’m proactively seeking them through a mobile phone app which just shows me five photos of potential eligible bachelors? Me, personally, no. It’s all for the banter, for the stories, for the ‘when I was in my 20’s I did this, and that, and oh that was hilarious’ because why not?

When it comes to eventually settling down, who knows. Whatever will be will be, but until then I’ll happily enjoy being a bridesmaid as opposed to a bride and the only man who is guaranteed to have my heart forever, is my dad.

 

 

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May 19, 2014

A year ago, pre dating, this happened

 

A year ago today I found out my boyfriend of four years, whom I lived with in a flat we bought together and had a cat (yeah, it was serious) had another life. He had another girlfriend for the past six months we were together, before I found out. I wrote the below a year ago, when it all happened, maybe as a coping mechanism? and I have decided to publish it. Sometimes you think you’re happy in a situation, it’s only when you’re no longer in that situation when you realise you weren’t happy at all.

Now, I’m more than happy.

(names have all been changed to protect identity- Dick being the main character..!)

Saturday 18th May 2013:

Today was the first day my boyfriend was home after a month of being in Cyprus with the forces. I was so excited to see him. We spent the day shopping for a tuxedo for him, then I had planned a meal on top of the Heron Tower at SushiSamba to celebrate his 30th birthday which would be on Monday.
While at the restaurant I presented him with proof of purchase of tickets to see his favourite band- Mumford & Sons. We had a lovely night and he wanted to go home as in his words ‘I spend enough money on it and I’m never home’.. this will become more relevant in Sunday’s post….

Sunday 19th May:

We got up early and made breakfast together before deciding to go to the cinema to watch The Great Gatsby. Afterwards we came home and cuddled on the sofa. I said to him ‘do you want to be with me forever?’ ‘Yes’ he said, yes of course..

All weekend he was quite cagey with his phone, whereas we’d usually be very open with phones, just leaving them out. Anyway, he went to the toilet had put my phone upside down and slyly slid it under the sofa, clearly thinking it was his. Obviously I then had a sudden urge to look at his, which was also upside down. All I did was turn it round- not even press a button- and a Whatsapp message appeared from ‘Emma’: Worried about you, hope you haven’t had any more stitches’. Or something along those lines.
While in Cyprus he was in a scrap and got a cut on his head, meaning he got stitches. So my first question to him was ‘Who’s Emma?’ to which he replied: ‘I don’t know anyone called Emma*alarm bells ringing* ooookay, so how does a girl called Emma know you had stitches and why would she be worried about you? So what I did next was call her..but then what happened shocked me, as I pressed ‘call’ it came up as ‘calling Paul iPhone’… Paul???
With Whatsapp, when someone messages you it comes up as the other persons username, which is different to what you’ve saved them in your phonebook as. So, next question ‘why would you save a girls name under Paul if you don’t know who they are??’
We went round in circles, I left a message on Emma/Pauls phone simply saying ‘this is Dick’s girlfriend of 4 years and we have a house together, just seen a message from you but he’s saved your number under a guys name, so that’s the reason for my call. apologies if this makes no sense to you’… he snatches his phone back off of me.
I give him the perfect opportunity to explain himself, me being extremely calm under the circumstances. He says I obviously don’t trust him and twists it round to be my paranoia. Emma is apparently a girl that works in a bar in Bournemouth- where he’s based with the forces. He ends up leaving after sitting in silence for half an hour. He’s gone.
All I’m left with is the knowledge that the other girl is called Emma and works in a bar in Bournemouth.. and my tears.

Monday 20th May:

Today is his 30th birthday. I don’t hear from him and I don’t attempt to make contact. I do spend the day searching ‘Emma, bars, Bournemouth’ obviously getting absolutely nowhere. Torturing myself and having nothing else to go on I then get a text from Dick’s mother, Rose.
She had sent him a photobook which commemorated all of his finest moments up until the age of 30, obviously a lot of the book features myself. He opened it on Saturday night and threw it aside because he was so disappointed that his mum had got it for him. ‘This is basically for you, I’d rather have got nothing than this shit’ he said. How ungrateful, I thought to myself before asking what he would’ve been grateful for instead, he said what I had got him- his favourite bands tickets.
Anyway, the reason for Rose’s first text was to see if Dick had opened his present. I don’t reply. The second text tells me she has had a reply from Dick and he told her that he hadn’t yet opened it. Lie. She goes onto ask me about Saturday’s plans..I had organised a surprise party for him with all his best friends and family and now we need to know exact numbers to sort out the food. I reply to Rose telling her I have no idea what’s going on, briefly telling her what had happened the previous night. She says she will tell the venue we need to cancel as he has to work. I let his friends all know the same, covering his back. God knows why.
Luckily my dad is over from America this week- perfect timing, and we go to dinner and put the world to rights over a bottle or two of wine. He tells me not to be too hasty with decisions as I don’t yet know all the facts. I agree, but tell him I’m not stupid and I know there’s something seriously wrong here.

Tuesday 21st May:

I have a brainwave. This brainwave leads me into finding a hotel confirmation forwarded to Dick from a ‘Miss E White’ ..E? Emma. This is her, this is bloody her.
Facebook. Find her. Message her. I got a reply stating her mobile number and she desperately urges that I call her asap. I do. We talk for over an hour and exchange stories. She had no idea about me, she’s upset as she has now introduced Dick as her boyfriend, he’s met her friends and family and they’ve been together for five months. Yep, that’s right. How did he get away with it?
Well, I’ll tell you how.. being in the forces, everything he does is secret, so he would tell me he’s waiting at work as things are kicking off in the Middle East which he may have to attend to. ‘Of course darling, your work takes priority, just stay safe’, so while I’m at home trying not to worry if his head’s going to be blown off, ironically his head probably is being blown off, in another context..

There was one week he was home on leave though, so Emma asks me if he was in the field that week. Nope, he was home with me, but he was in the field the week after, right? Wrong, the week after he was at home with her. So he had two weeks leave, one week spent with me, the other with her. He played us both.
So now, we both know what he’s done, but he doesn’t know we know.. how can we play this? Suggestions were fired around. ‘Let’s meet up for a drink in Bournemouth, I’ll get him to meet me and he’ll walk in to see both of us together’ was her first idea. I know him (well, I thought I did) and knew he would take one look at us then walk straight back out again. He can’t do confrontation. He’s a coward.
So, she sends me all the texts he’s sent her, one of which is extremely explicit so I paste it onto my phone and hit send..to him.
I would’ve done anything to see his reaction when he received that message from me, the very message he sent to her the morning he was coming back to our home.
Now he knows, I email him an extremely civil message and BCC my family and friends in as evidence. I state that I know everything and now we just have the matter of sorting out the flat. Our flat.
I get nothing back.
I meet my dad for dinner again, this time he says ‘remember I told you not to be hasty. Forget I said that. This is no man, you can do a million times better, you know the facts now, do what you need to do’..I break down.

Wednesday 23rd May:

Emma messages me to see if I’m ok and holding up. I feel so positive today, I don’t want someone like him in my life and my feelings have turned to numbness. She tells me that all of his friends are the same- not one is single, however.
She also tells me she has spoken to one of his friends from his hometown in Cornwall. He only has one friend there, I text him ‘did you know about Emma?’ I don’t get a reply, but he ‘likes’ my Facebook status later that day when I change it to ‘cant wait to go home to see my friends and family’. I take that ‘like’ as a confession that he knew. His loyalties lie with Dick so I don’t hold it against him.
I get another message from Emma saying that Dick has just text her asking to meet up tonight and talk. I can’t believe that I still haven’t heard anything from him, so I bite the bullet and text him. I say ‘nice to know you want to meet and talk to Em, but still no word about the flat’ he replies.. my jaw dropped.. no ‘I’m so sorry’ no no, but this: ‘you two are right little buddies now aren’t you. I’ll be in contact about the flat when the time is right.’ I can’t believe that this is the first time I hear from him and that’s all I get. If I didn’t think he was heartless before, this just confirms that he has no feelings. Have I just wasted four years of my life with this ‘man’ ?

Thursday 24th May:

I tell his mum everything. She can’t believe it and it’s clear she’s hopeful but the more I tell her, the more she realises her son is not who she thought. She says she doesn’t want to believe this is the son she brought up and knows and loves. Unfortunately, he is.
I think of the positives. I’m 24 years old, not married or with child, now single and living in the best city in the world (in my opinion), where’s the best place to be single?? London of course! I’m going to have a ball. He had two girlfriends, two houses, two lives and is 30. Now he has nothing but a single bed and a camp to go ‘home’ to. I’m not the mug here.

I go out tonight and wonder if I have ‘I’m single’ tattooed to my forehead. I’ve never gotten so much attention in all my life, then again as a friend points out, I never noticed it because I was blinded by love, I ignored any attention because I was loyal and faithful, committed to one relationship. Now I’m going to have fun!!
I’m off to Devon on the weekend to surround myself with loved ones and my dad and brother are coming with me. My family have arranged a garden party to take my mind off things.

The weekend comes and goes and I still haven’t heard anything more from him. I analyse every time he was away and work out that the weekend I arranged for us both to go to Paris to watch David Beckham play for PSG, Dick called me the day before telling me he has to work as things are all kicking off and that’s all he can tell me as it’s top secret. I lost £500 on the tickets, flights and hotel but it didn’t matter because it was his job (I was bloody gutted). A few weeks later Becks had retired and that was my last chance to ever see him play. I even told him on the Sunday that I found the message, that I would never forgive his work for making him work on that weekend as Becks has now retired.

email

The email I sent to him

Thing is, he wasn’t at work..he was with Emma that weekend for her nieces christening. Yep, she told me.

 

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April 24, 2014

The Camp Bristolian

Date of date: 25th February
Name: Tom
Source: Tinder

After chatting on Tinder for about a week, this guy seems like a total dreamboat. He’s good looking, quick with the banter and has an interesting job. He’s not lived in London for too long so asks me out for a drink and suggests I choose the venue. I tell him to meet me at a place called Green Carnation in Soho.

‘Erm, you do realise Green Carnation is a gay and lesbian bar?’ says one of my colleagues after I tell him what I’m doing that night. Well no, I didn’t. I mean I know that Soho is predominantly a gay area yes, but I thought this particular bar was open for all. Apparently not. But I’ve been before and was oblivious, so now I’m totally conscious that this guy has googled the place and either thinks a)I’m having him on and am going to stitch him up while he’s surrounded by a load of hungry men (which in hindsight, he would probably have enjoyed. More of why later), or b) he thinks I’m bi.

So I text him changing the venue, recommended by my colleague who clearly knows Soho better than me.
Meanwhile I get a huge amount of work in from a client, with a short turnaround. I do a quick calculation (I’m shit at maths) and figure I will be about 20 minutes late in meeting him- so I let him know.

I turn up an hour and a half late. Feeling very bad and apologising via text every half an hour until I meet him, he tells me he’s at Be At One in Piccadilly, he clearly didn’t trust my second venue after the first blunder- or he’s been there and drank his hours worth before a change of scenery.

By the time I arrive he’s already made friends with the bar staff and they clap when I sit down. I feel myself blush and apologise prefusely, offering to buy the (my) first drinks, but I see he already has two drinks in front of him so I assume one is for me, I thank him and take it. Turns out it’s happy hour and he had stocked up for himself- what am I like!..

I’m not a snob, but Be At One wouldn’t be my first choice when it comes to cocktails- it’s more of a student wetherspoons pre drink type place isn’t it, so I suggest Archer Street, a much nicer bar where the waitresses break out into song every now and then, plus the cocktails are amaze. So we go there after I down a watered down mojito.

Archer Street means I can also hear his voice and make conversation.. this is when it registers. He’s camp, very, very camp, camper than a row of tents. He sounds a cross between Joe Pasquale and Josie Gibson from Big Brother- you know, the big Bristolian lass who went out with Jon James and lost loads of weight, now looks amazing.
He’s from the Westcountry, as am I, but every time he talks I just take it as comedy value. I have an ex colleague called Joe (now a very successful actor in Broadchurch, little plug there for you Joe, as if you need it) and those who know Joe, knows he is the most Bristolian person in the world, now this date I would say, was more so. I literally wanted to bottle him up and open him whenever I wanted to laugh. Unfortunately, we were on a date and his intentions were far from being bottled up. I was asking him questions just so I could hear him talk.
I found out he was one son out of five sisters, so I asked the question. Yes I’d had a few Tom Collins’ by this point so I figured it was a perfectly normal question: ‘did your parents ever think that you’d have such a female influence that you’d be gay?’ his answer ‘my parents love a gay so they wouldn’t mind’… this makes me think he probably is gay and is on a date with me to test the waters, see if he can be swayed into liking girls. Well after being held waiting at a Be At One for 1.5 hours and being asked loads of questions so I could memorise his accent, probably would turn anyone gay.

So we leave. He tells me I’m his first Tinder date, and now imagine the most Bristolian, camp accent ever.. he says to me:
‘Well I think that went quite well, don’t you love?’
I lol. I say ‘yes, I had the best time’ which isn’t a lie. I had a lot of fun, but I wish he was my gay best straight mate. He then says:
‘Defo do this again maid, text me some dates you’re free’.

With that, we get on our separate tubes at Piccadilly and the odd text was exchanged a week or so after. There was no romance there but I would happily help him find his Mr Right.. if he does indeed swing that way.

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April 1, 2014

The Bearded Vegan Model Pilot

Location: Muswell Hill, Carluccios

Source: Twitter/blind

(Names changed for anonymity)

Date: 26th March 2014

So the context in which I met this one is a long one so bear with me while I condense. Last year I started seeing this guy casually, it started turning into something more but I kept my guard up. At the beginning of this year I received a facebook message from his GIRLFRIEND- Laura. I had no idea, I told her everything because she deserved to know, she ditched him as did I and we have since become great friends. Weird from the outside but it works! Anyway I set her up with a colleague of mine, in return she said she thought I would get on well with one of her friends..the bearded vegan model pilot.

I researched (*cough* stalked) him a bit, found out he was quite a successful model and now training to be a pilot. I found him on Twitter and gave him a cheeky follow. A couple of weeks later I noticed he followed me back, and also on Instagram. Social media is the new face to face approach isn’t it. There are a few photos of myself and Laura, so he must’ve put two and two together.

Anyway, I’ve got nothing to lose, let’s message him, I thought. So I did- why not. Extremely creatively of me I put ‘Hello Aaron’, expecting nothing back I just went about my day.

The next morning I get a reply asking ‘how’s life?’. He catches me on a morning when life is consisting of early morning gym sessions and crash dieting in order to fit into a bridesmaid dress in 4 days. We message via twitter for a little while and eventually I give him my number.

A tube and bus journey later and we meet the next evening. I find out he’s a vegan (he can’t even eat Haribo). I’m open about my passion for steak and chocolate and he doesn’t judge- this is already going better than the Oxford Graduate.

Speaking of Oxford, Aaron has been training for the last year or so there to be a pilot. In fact, the last three dates I’ve had all have a link with Oxford, so I’m hoping they don’t all bump into eachother one day and get into a conversation about a clumsy Beckham obsessed brunette.

Anyway, the vegan thing is new. Since he’s been single he decided to be a bit wacky, grow a beard and just eat rabbit food. Totes fine with me, but knowing I’ll never get taken to Gaucho is a bit heart wrenching. I ask when he’s going to chop the beard off, when he gets his lapelles he’s going to jump in a pool and then have a shave. He’s got lovely eyes and usually I’m not a beard lover- I have a friend who loves beards and I thought the whole way through that she would bloody love him- anyway, the beard doesn’t actually put me off him which is a surprise to me.

We order wine after about 20 minutes of toing and froing- I was going to be good but that soon went out of the window and we ordered a bottle of white between us.

There was a lot to talk about, seeing as our mutual friend circumstances were out of the ordinary, so we talked about that a bit. He tells me he’s been growing a beard since November and has become quite attached to it- he puts argan oil in it to keep it soft (if that’s not an invitation for a feel then I don’t know what is).

It gets to the end of the date and I’m feeling a bit squiffy, conscious I have an early start, we leave and head to the bus stop. My bus is in the distance and it’s one of those ‘do I run for it because I don’t know how long the next one is going to be? or do I walk extra slow as to miss it and have more time for a goodbye?’ moments. I decide I will miss it anyway and no one wants to see me run after a couple of glasses of wine. Then it sits there a bit longer, so I decide to run for it. He runs with me and I jump on the bus just in time, in a mild sweat. We don’t have time for a proper goodbye so it’s one of those quick hugs and oh god, do I kiss you on the cheek or will that be awkward? So I do a quick hug and make it awkward by being indecisive on the kiss, and then he says ‘oh god, this is awkward’, before the bus doors close.

bus

Since then we have exchanged the odd message, but he’s now based back home in the Midlands, so until he’s back in London/finishes his pilots training, I think it will be a matter of just keeping in touch as and when. The circumstances at present are a bit too complicated for anything more, which is just as well because I can carry on writing about subsequent dates.. (going on one tonight)..

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March 25, 2014

The Jug and Candle date

tinder1 tinder2

 

 

Date of Date: Thursday 20th February 2014

Source: Tinder

Place: Brixton Village

I went to the gym after work then joined work colleagues for a couple of drinks (I stuck to water) near the office. I realised I had to be quick-ish in order to make my date and not be too late. It got to 9pm, the time my date and I were supposed to meet..I got my phone out ‘sorry, running late, will be there at 9.30’ I tapped in. Blew my air kisses and off I went, sexy Reebok gym bag in tow.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a tube ad panel reflection and realised I had sweat hair- you know, the hair that’s freshly washed from that morning but you’ve just done a cardio session at the gym so your scalp is almost sodden- but not gross enough to warrant a hair wash. So it was at this point I realised I needed to go home to at least run the GHD’s over, stick some heels on and dump my gym bag.

‘Sorry, another 15 mins’ I bashed in on my brisk walk back to my house. I quickly sort my hair out, slick on some lippy, wack on some heels and run out of the door.

By this point I’m late, really late. You try walking in the dark in new heels, pointy heels- it adds an extra 20 minutes onto any journey.

I approach the entrance to Brixton Village and see a guy stood there on his phone. Ah, that must be him, does he look like his photos? Oh shittttt, what’s his name again? mind is totally blank. I cannot remember his name so I panic.

‘Are you waiting for..a Tanisha?’ I say, presenting myself as though I’m some sort of showpiece that he’s just won at an auction. ‘Erm, no, I’m waiitng for a mate, sorry’ a confused looking stranger says to me. Oh god. Awks.

Meanwhile the actual date siddles up to me carrying a leather man bag and says ‘I am. Are you looking for a Mike?’ he copied what I did. I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe. I’m cringing. As I take a proper look at him I realise he’s not at my eye level. Bloody great, someone shorter than me. I’m not going to look good on his arm walking down a red carpet am I? was the first thought that entered my mind, but I’m open minded, let’s see how this goes.

To lighten the mood and my red face after that awful embarrassement, I make reference to that Specsavers advert with the train platform- you know the one, when she kisses the wrong guy. He laughs and we find a cute little bar/restaurant to sit at.

We sit at a cute little candlelit table and order the same cocktail, the conversation starts flowing. The waitress brings us a jug of water as well- yes this is significant to my story.

Turns out he works in Oxford but is staying with a friend in Brixton, hence the man bag, also hence why we matched on Tinder the weekend before. He’s only been waiting half an hour for me- I apologise and offer to buy the drink to make up for his wait in the freezing cold. He asks how tall I am ‘you seem very tall’ he says. If you call 5’5 tall, ok ok I’m probably 5’8/9 in heels, but still guys, that is not giant.

He seems lovely, but keeps bringing up how he loves lazy Sunday’s and all that’s missing is a girlfriend to laze with (bleurgh). By this point I’m two Tom Collins’ down and need some water. As I reach for it I knock the entire jug over and it spills ALL over his man bag and part of his right leg, before smashing into pieces on the wooden floor. Oops.

I literally have no idea what to do by this point because I’ve taken off my shoes under the table and I’m scared if I move that -a) he will wonder why the hell I’ve decided to make myself at home and go barefoot in a random restaurant during a date, and b) I will cut my feet open, and I really do need my feet, it would be such a waste of shoes without them.

So I keep saying ‘sorry’ over and over, while he gets the waitress and a cloth. Meanwhile I’m vigerously fighting to put my feet back into my shoes, but they’ve expanded in the heat of the restaurant/swollen from the walk, so I feel like one of the Ugly Sisters forcing on the glass slipper. They won’t budge, I’m bloody stuck with half a foot sticking out of each shoe while I stand up and try to help pick up shards of jug glass.

After that kurfuffle we sit back down and talk more date chat. I laugh at something, only I don’t just laugh like a normal person, oh no, I laughed through my nose and blew the candle out with my NOSE air. So we’re now pretty much sat in darkness, him with a wet leg, me with swollen feet and neither of us can see eachother due to my nose laugh.

It gets to about 11pm and the waitress starts clearing up, we’re the last ones left now so I start easing my feet back into my shoes a good 5 minutes before I suggest leaving.

We stand up, oh yep, he’s shorter, forgot about that. He walks me part way home and we say our goodbyes.

Lovely guy, I’m convinced I won’t hear from him again after the water and candle incidents, but I do. He added me on facebook, and text me, but I had to be honest with him. I could happily be friends with him, but as for romance, just not the one.

Maybe that Oxford graduate will be more my type..

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March 20, 2014

The Oxford Graduate

Latest date: 19th March

Source: Tinder

Place: Southbank- Founders Arms (my choice, naturally)

Firstly I had made the mistake of eating a tube of mints to curb my chocolate craving throughout the day. Then was told by a colleague ‘you do realise they have laxative effects?’ well yes, I did know that, but did I think that when I was eating them? No.

My mint binge resulted in me heading straight for the loo’s upon arrival at the date venue on the Southbank. I received a text while holding onto my stomach saying ‘I’m here, have a table outside by the entrance’. Great, it’s good to be ‘fashionably’ late I thought, let’s just hope I can get off the loo by the time it becomes ‘taking the piss’ late. I make a tactical exit out the back door before walking around the pub to make it look like I’ve just come in from the outside.

I spot him, tall, nice looking, different from his Tinder photo but then again I picked my best *airbrushed instagrammed the shit out of* photos so I can’t really talk. Anyway we greet eachother, I order a gin & soda then we start talking..about work. About 20 minutes in and we’re still talking shop. It’s fine, I’ll change the subject. We get onto the predictable ‘have you been travelling?’ convo.

I asked if he had ever been to Vegas and he said: “no it’s somewhere I would never want to go. I’ve never been to a strip club, I don’t really drink, Vegas is very fake and I like more natural places like Cape Town and I would rather trek round the Himalayas than look at tacky hotels and gaudy shows.” This was after I said I’ve been 3 times and love it but really want to go on a girls holiday there..

THEN he slagged off Victoria Beckham. Those who know me will be surprised that I didn’t chuck my drink over him. I kind of held my tongue..kind of. This came about after he asked about previous jobs etc, I’m a trained fashion journalist & had a column reviewing VB’s collection in 2009 and I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills, he said he didn’t even know she ‘did’ clothes. Well that was just blasphemy in my book.

He goes to the loo and I text my dad saying “he’s SO posh” my dad replies: “that’ll be a communication issue. Easy on the drinks though, a lady shouldn’t get drunk, espcecially on a first date.” Dad, I’ll be lucky if I get offered another- I think to myself.

So we finish our drinks and he doesn’t offer another (knew it), he tells me he needs to be in Manchester for a meeting at 8am and ‘can’t wait for my bed’ he also tells me he needs to make dinner which will be chicken & kale, the former is thawing in his fridge (erm, so you’re not feeding me then?).

So after my ONE drink I just said shall we go, we walked to the tube, talked about bed linen and his ex (whom he’s still amicable with and ‘good friends)..then.. I ask how long it will take him to get home, he says he recently bought a kindle so time goes quickly, I bought one last week so we had that in common at least, apart from the fact I only bought mine after only being able to afford a kindle case in the Mulberry sample sale, so I had to buy the kindle after.. he turned his nose up at that.. I said I really am enjoying reading again though and it makes the time go so much quicker on the tube, especially as I’m so engrossed in this amazing book at the moment and I just look forward to reading it every morning.

He asks what book I’m reading. Well I couldn’t tell him the truth which is ‘Shopaholic and baby’ (I don’t care, I love Rebecca Bloomwood) but I can’t really say that to this posh guy who hates Vegas. I say ‘oh it’s by Dan Brown’ (first bloody author that pops into my head) he says ‘oh great, which one? I’ve read all his books’ oh god, oh god I’m screwed. The only Dan Brown book I know is The Da Vinci Code, I can’t fall back on that after I’ve just said I’m reading this amazing book, surely I would’ve just said I’m reading the Da Vinci Code straight away? So I just dug my hole even deeper and said ‘I can’t remember the name of it’ to which he replied ‘you don’t know the name of the book you’re reading?’ ahhhhhh I can’t just say ‘actually I’m not reading Dan Brown, I’m reading the bloody Shopaholics series and I thought tonight I would be meeting my Luke Brandon who would’ve taken me to the OXO tower and we would’ve sipped Bellini’s all night while you tell me about your amazing life and we laugh about things we have a lot in common with’. So I just said ‘oh my kindle came with a free Dan Brown book and I’ve gone blank at what it’s called.

He took the Jubilee line, I took the Northern line and that was my 63 minute date. Don’t think we’ll be in touch again, worlds apart! He’s obviously very intelligent- an Oxford graduate, but his social skills clash with mine/ are non-existent.

Next..

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