“The Am-Dram”

I haven’t dated in a while, it’s pretty much been a month as I was giving the Second Chancer far too many chances, so I have had a little break.

I matched with The Am-Dram on Bumble, which meant I had to message first and steer the conversation from the outset – I say this because this is pretty much how it felt on the date.

We met in a pub not too far from where I live, a halfway location from him as well. As I walked there I thought to myself, this is local to one of my colleagues. I said this to The Am-Dram, he said it was a local for some friends too. Then said colleague walked in, took a table not far away, not realising he was opposite me, so I waved and then he later mouthed over ‘are you on a date’. Part of me wanted the ground to swallow me up there and then, the other part thought this will make leaving easier!

The Am-Dram was pleasant, he is a nice guy. Why is he called The Am-Dram? Because he kept going on about amateur dramatics, referring to it as ‘am-dram’, he was later going to some engagement drinks with some am-dram folk. I have no problem with hobbies, by all means I wish sometimes I had something better than my interests, but please don’t chew my ear off about them. Every thing he did is am-dram related because he is no longer playing rugby.

What The Am-Dram also mentioned, is that he was engaged about 18 months ago, which is honest and let’s face it not everyone would be so honest on a first date. I wonder if it was to someone from am-dram. He also mentioned his father passed away not long after his engagement ended, and what transpired is he really isn’t ready for dating or meeting someone. I was steering the conversation, he didn’t ask me that many questions about myself, something which happens when someone isn’t interested…

I think The Am-Dram assumed we had similar careers, yet he is making a break from his to become a teacher – in hindsight, he was patronising me a little bit for not making a similar career break, not getting out of my house-share (er it’s London, that’s quite normal), which doesn’t make you feel overly great. It was raining and I think both of us were unsure how to continue.

Meanwhile, my colleague mouthed over that Al Murray, The Pub Landlord, was in the pub. Useful and a change of focus! I like a celeb spot, and told The Am-Dram that I had spotted Iain Glen from Game of Thrones recently (he didn’t need to know this was whilst on a date). The Am-Dram said he watches Game of Thrones sometimes… how can you watch it sometimes?!

After a few more drinks, the rain had cleared, The Am-Dram needed to leave for his am-dram buddies. He confirmed he isn’t ready for dating, said I am a great girl. I think if he was ready for dating, the date would have been quite different.

He left, and I went over to my colleague and his wife, joined them for drinks and a pub quiz – the same pub quiz I went to with Choco Leibniz. This blog is wonderful for reminding me just how many dates I go on…

“Second Chancer”

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…

“High Guy”

On my dating profile I have a little list of things about me, which I often doubt that many lads read.

High Guy did, his opening gambit on Tinder was a ramble of a reply to each point on the list. It was better than ‘hey’, ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ so I replied and consequently there was a bit of back and forth in messaging. 

It turned out that High Guy had had a big night the night before, his name now might make sense. He was taking his mum and her friend to lunch and would I like to go for drinks later: I was non committal. I already had some plans; I was going to Wembley to watch football and didn’t really fancy a big night of drinks after this which is what he was alluding to. 

As the afternoon went on High Guy bailed on the drinks anyway, said he was totally hanging and in bed drinking whisky. I ventured back from my already made plans, told him not to worry, what will be, will be. I should point out we both live in the same part of London, such are Tinder’s super capabilities, and I had also mentioned I was getting a McDonald’s and heading home. 

High Guy said to wait 5 minutes, he’d man up and head out to meet me. Mainly because he was flying off somewhere the next day and this was his chance, and that I wasn’t allowed to go to McDonald’s.

High Guy arrived, still totally out of it and off his face. Clearly. Whilst this was amusing, it was obviously a struggle. He asked me the same question three times. We had a drink and I said I would be heading to McDonald’s – he knew his time was up and agreed he should not have ventured out. He wanted to take me to a Turkish place, so he twisted my arm and off we went and High Guy tells me he is a vegetarian. Actually a pescatarian as I asked him if he eats fish. This makes it tricky when you’ve got a cheeseburger on the brain.

He inhaled the mezze, wanted lots of chilli sauce, and that was that. We said our goodbyes, and I went to McDonald’s anyway.

“The Netballer”

I had the day off work today and whilst enjoying my time with a trip to the swimming pool, doing a few errands and watching Once Upon A Time, I dabbled with Tinder. I matched with The Netballer. His profile, because I actually read it, said a few things but ended with ‘the only day we we won’t have a date is Thursday, I’m playing netball’.

Turns out The Netballer was off work too, on a staycation he said. He seemed alright, he suggested lunch, and he suggested coming to where I live so that all made it pretty easy. And I am often spontaneous and can’t stand a penpal type of situation when it comes to dating apps.

We met at the tube station, which yes I know I whinged about with Cheese-Bored but this was daytime, at a less busy time, and when I got there, Iain Glen, who to my mind is best known for Game of Thrones was also there and I was giddy. I was trying to take his photo on the sly when The Netballer appeared and ruined it.

He ruined it with his bad jeans, bad leather jacket, bad trainers. I wish I wasn’t so mean but studies have shown you only have 7 seconds to make a strong first impression, and in that 7 seconds The Netballer ruined my celeb-spotting time and topped it off with his bad dress sense.

We went for a cuppa, we chatted but he seemed very awkward, and whilst eating his sandwich was making odd sort of gulpy type moves like my dad does when he has eaten too quickly. He got food stuck in his beard. He didn’t ask me about my job, where I am from, or anything about me. He only asked me about my swim and pretty much talked about himself and his stressful job as an economist and netball.

He actually plays netball.

I didn’t fancy him.

I asked him what he was doing with the rest of the day in a bid to get out of this date, he had netball to go to of course and he then asked me – to which I said I had shopping to do, things to get back to the house for (all lies, I only had Once Upon a Time to get back to and the sofa and tea). He offered to carry my fake shopping for me three times. The lad was keen. Perhaps my giddy excitement at seeing Iain Glen was a good first impression.

I think he even wanted to kiss me when we said goodbye. He messaged me after as well ‘let me know if you get bored’.

I will not be seeing The Netballer again.



I haven’t spelt this wrong. It all started with talking about cheese (it was Bumble and I needed an opener, he gave it to me in his profile with his penchant for cheese) – this has happened before in the ‘case’ of the Dickhead who I will not blog about because that was a series of poor judgements on my part for longer than necessary and already this is enough words on the matter.

Anyway, Cheese-Bored and I had about a week and a bit of back and forth of some funny messages and anecdotes though come date-day I think I had decided he was a bit odd (Cheese-Bored was reading a maths book for fun (link if you’re interested), had messaged me about the vernal equinox and he always seemed to not be up to much each day). However things can be misconstrued in writing so on the first day of spring, off I went with a spring in my step.

We met at the tube, it wasn’t an ideal meeting point. FYI, he was short. Story of my life it seems (though on the blog there is probably only The Big Man and Titchski as examples). I thought to myself I’ll go with it given Cheese-Bored was quite smartly dressed and had a plan of where to go, he could be ok. Though already I was disappointed. Again. We then walked past my housemate – ha.

We were going to a little French place for wine and cheese. It was a quirky little place, and eventually we got a table for the much discussed cheese board. It was one of those places with plenty to look at, good job really.

The actual cheese-board meant I could focus on the yummy cheese. I was bored. Cheese-Bored was one of these old-man storytellers, telling tales of how beautiful some restaurant is and how good the food is and who had told him to go there. He also told me that Wellington (because there was a painting of Napoleon on the wall) invented seamless socks so people didn’t get bruises – think he was trying to be Factoid but not getting his facts right. Throughout this I was thinking, try and give this guy the benefit of doubt but I could not shake it off. Doubt Taylor Swift would either. 

We finished the cheese and decided to leave. I noticed Cheese-Bored was in a waistcoat and whilst walking back to the tube I complimented his smart shoes. We walked past a shop selling Sherlock Holmes inspired attire, I think he wanted to be him. Not one compliment for me all evening I thought to myself.

Cheese-Bored and I said goodbye. I went home with more wine and dry roasted peanuts to watch Made in Chelsea which was a better end to the evening.

Thank you to my pal for the code name and also for this, which just about sums it all up:

Also, after the date, Cheese-Bored unmatched me on Bumble quicker than it took to scoff the cheese!

“The Teacher”

The Teacher, on paper, was, if requirements are a thing (I don’t have many, since I generally go for bald idiots), pretty good. He teaches ‘little people to become great designers’, so my opening line on Bumble was that ‘I work with big people who are designers’. For those who don’t know, on Bumble the girl has to message first. Easy…

We messaged for a week or so and arranged to meet, on a Friday, which is against my dating beliefs and links to a rule I mentioned when I went on a date with Inferno. This is ‘Don’t have a first date on a Friday night unless you have a plan to go somewhere else (or fake plan) or are too bothered about potentially ruining your Friday night’. The other issue I have with Friday, is that sometimes I just need to unwind after work, and that’s best done by getting totally wasted or going straight home.

I’d already had two pints at lunchtime, and a beer from the Friday drinks fridge… I was also running late which isn’t something The Teacher really understood I don’t think (I could enter a comment about him leaving at 3.30pm every day here but I know this isn’t true). Unfortunately, if something needs to be done at work, it needs to be done and leaving on time becomes a dream – I did give him plenty of warning however. And then he was late, and I was there first, the classic, see Inferno, Paddy McPasta, The Big Man; it seems to be a skill of mine.

Anyway we got drinks, we chatted, about holidays, he’s going to Jordan (I have been – I could have been born there too as my family lived there before I was born, just FYI) and I am contemplating going to Thailand. We chatted about where we are from (clearly not both from London), families etc., all usual and flowing conversation.

The Teacher then suggested that being a teacher means that he can never work at under 100% effort and that in my job and others, we can have days where we work at 50-70% and nobody notices. Great thanks, so you think my job isn’t important? Everybody has ‘off days’. I have many friends who are teachers – I know how hard they work, I also know some who have bad days. We are all human. This triggered some bubbling annoyance within me, it is an insensitive thing to say when you are meant to be impressing me…

Then Six Nations rugby came on the television… Wales v Ireland… and that was a distraction. He likes rugby a lot (as do I) so why on earth agree to a date when clearly you want to be watching it? And then some Welsh and Irish people wanted to sit at our table and watch it too and they started talking to us; The Teacher even bumped into a friend – it was all too much.

When he went to the loo, I went on Facebook on my phone and watched this video from BBC News where a guy is being interviewed and his kids videobomb the interview. I laughed a lot, watched it a few times and that was the most fun I had all evening.

“Factoid” – part two

I met Factoid a couple of weeks ago, I think it was on a Thursday, and boldly by maybe Sunday I think it was, I asked whether he wanted to do something again sometime. Putting myself out there. Go me. You have to when you get time wasters like The Kiwi.

Factoid said the coming week was busy, so how about the following one. Cue a little victory dance (a smirk and me being happy more like).

Eventually the week in question arrived. It is a long time to maintain momentum in the dating stratosphere. Arguably if a date is good you’re likely to see that person soon after or make the arrangements quickly.

Not so much with Factoid. He was a bit slow on the comms front (I am an avid comms WhatsApperer), but he’d had a visit to the hospital – an infection in his arm from a spider he thinks, I was to learn this when on the date.

Anyhow, we arranged to meet at a pub half way between where we both work. We hadn’t messaged that much between the dates, so we caught up on what we had been up to, Factoid kept making me laugh with his anecdotal tales and facts.

He told me about a terrible film called The Stud that he was aiming to get home for and also because he had meetings the next day. He’d told me about the meetings before he met me. (Hindsight and my slowly diminishing patience makes me think he was playing his get out card early, but then why bother meeting me). I told him about an equally rubbish film called The Room that gets shown at The Prince Charles Cinema. Great chats all round. Turns out his film choice wasn’t on, he stuck out the date a little longer perhaps.

We decided we should get some food, but weren’t really helping each other make any food decisions, so ended up in Subway. Whilst that may not be a date destination to some, I was happy in having a Subway, it did the job! He said we’d go for a proper dinner next time. It turns out I have meetings at his office next week, he suggested coffee (he was almost definitely joking).

We went for a bit of a wander and for cocktails afterwards, it was all very jolly but he really did mean it about an early night (which actually suited me fine) so we had a bit of a kiss at the tube and it was home time. He said we’d do something again soon.

But now I haven’t heard from him… which is borderline rude, weird and all the dating logic I don’t understand in between – leading me to the conclusion he is a fool and I’m not going to get any more facts. The end.

“The Kiwi” – AKA a time waster

It annoys me when you have a good first date, the guy seems keen,  you continue to message after the date and he says he is keen to see you again.

Then bang, after messaging a fair bit and from nowhere, The Kiwi says: “Sorry I had fun when we met but I’ve got too much going on over the next couple of months.”


I appreciate the honesty, upfront and not wasting any more of my time, not like Dickhead in 2016, but seriously why bother. Why keep up a pretence for the best part of two weeks?


I replied to the above said message with a response of “OK cool, thanks for letting me know.”

Followed in quick succession by “take care” which is internationally understood to mean eat shit and die, you coward.


“The Kiwi”

I have never dated someone from New Zealand before, therefore The Kiwi will be his name. I appear to be on ‘a bit of a roll’ with first dates at the moment, so much so that my brain is confused with what I know about people, so I have had to scroll back to the start of my Tinder conversation with The Kiwi to remember how it all began.

And it was a pretty good beginning in some respects, The Kiwi opted for the ‘2 truths, 1 lie’ approach to engage me in a conversation. This is better than what GQ suggests, ‘hey’ really is not an opener. The Kiwi’s method worked, however he got the answer from these options below incorrect:

  1. I’m fluent in German.
  2. I don’t like pineapple.
  3. I have naturally blonde hair.

Conversation on Tinder then flowed to the usual small talk, which was all going on around the time I was about to go on a date with Choco Leibniz. Hence I get confused about what I knew. Too many details to remember!

It was all pleasant enough, he invited me for drinks and I like to drink, so plans were set.

We went to a busy bar, conversation flowed, we talked about our top 5 destinations we haven’t yet made it to – we have different lists. He was drinking pale ale, which I like, so after a couple of drinks, we went to a pub for a better offering of the stuff, so that I could have some too. We whinged about work, though I think The Kiwi was whinging more than me!

We must have decided to get food after a couple of pints of pale ale, but there was a wait at the restaurant of choice, so I suggested a bar next door for a cocktail in the meantime. We then had more pale ale with our food in the restaurant.

After the waitress gave us a free pudding, we somehow were talking about tequila. Another thing we have in common, though The Kiwi had not had tequila with a slice of orange to follow, nor had he had honey tequila. I highly recommend this stuff! We decided to go looking for tequila after settling the bill (he paid).

The pub we found closed pretty much after we had ordered our drinks and tequilas, so it was time to call it a night. I think he might have still been whinging. I think I was drunk (I know I was drunk). The Kiwi casually put his arm around me, stops me in the street for a quick kiss and on we go to the tube.

It was all very pleasant, I think he said something about me showing him some other pubs sometime. To be continued? We shall see.