Once upon a time, a long time ago, I went on a date in Green Park/St James’s Park, for a hot chocolate. It seemed sensible at the time, I think it may have been a Sunday afternoon which is a good time for a date – not too intrusive on your day and you can always escape. It didn’t go all that well. I remember it probably lasted an hour, he smoked (which in the daytime is more obvious than if you’re out for drinks), he was a shadow of his photos, and as a fickle human being, it wasn’t right.
Fast forward and not too long ago, swiping on Tinder as I do from time to time, this super like popped up and I may have swiped right. I know… nobody likes a super like! He was a familiar face (we follow each other on Instagram) and I was being polite. It was also Saturday night and I was very hungover watching Disney’s new Cinderella and eating pizza. It was the best kind of Saturday yet also a low one. He sent a message after we matched, and plied me with compliments, and the conversation was flowing that I struggled to remember what it was that wasn’t right the first time. He reminded me he wasn’t top form. He also told me that he had put on weight and had quit smoking, and that he is going to get his teeth done – I felt like such a bitch.
Anyway, we messaged for a bit longer, swapped numbers again and eventually I caved into believing people deserve second chances. Second Chancer was so keen.
A vague plan was formed for a second chance at a Sunday date. This time beer was to be involved. Clever beer.
Second Chancer busted out all the lines, all of them. Told me his friends had told him not to go on the date before, that he was punching and that on a hangover he shouldn’t go. This time he’d told them and they told him ‘God loves a trier’. I probably smirked a lot and I know I told him off a lot for saying such nonsense. Poor sod probably got a mix of signals whilst I got drunk.
It was fun, he was pretty easy to get along with and I am as I said, a fickle sod so clearly the compliments and lines all worked and we had a nice time (snogging – ooh er). We will be meeting again to see if it was the effects of multiple beers or not. To be continued…