“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 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.