“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.