The “D” Word: Take a deep breath…

… and it’s time to dive into the single pool to try and catch me a fish.  Or as other people call it – dating.

I put myself on a dating site, then it’s a case of pulling on a metaphorical pair of waders and find a frog worth kissing.  Unfortunately, having been in a relationship for a while meant that I was somewhat naive.

So here it is: my first date since the big break-up.  And it was a doozy…

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I replied out of kindness; his initial message was well thought-out and meaningful.  My gut told me that he wasn’t my type but I think loneliness won out.  I suppose I should give him a name, so let’s call him Dutch.

Dutch said he was 6 foot 4″ tall, well built and a trained accountant in a local business.  He was of African descent and enjoyed playing basketball, films and socialising.  When I threw him some curve balls around alternative conversation topics such as astrology and physics, he took it in his stride.  So we exchanged messages a couple of times; harmless pleasantries.  He eventually asked me out, and I hesitated.  My gut said “NO!” but I couldn’t bring myself to decline.

I should have declined.  

I agreed to meet Dutch for dinner (another massive no-no for a first date!) and arranged a time and a place.  The day leading up to the evening we had maintained a shallow conversation until the afternoon.  I was about to leave for the bus stop, and messaged him that I was on my way.  No reply.

He still didn’t reply, so I sent him a message:  “If you’re going to stand me up, show a little kindness and let me know.”  The bus came, I got on and went to the meeting spot.  No one turned up.

I should have left.  

Dutch sent me his phone number beforehand so I decided to call it.  He sounded like he had just woken up, and asked what time it was.  He explained that he had fallen asleep and didn’t set his alarm.  I offered to rearrange, he wasn’t ready and I didn’t want to wait around.  But no, he was five minutes away and I was to wait there.

Why didn’t I leave?  

So I stayed, and five minutes later this tall, mountain of a man lumbered towards me.  I looked, even if I do say so myself, smoking hot. And in that typical online dating cliched way, he looked… nothing like his photo.  I would never make judgments on anyone’s appearance, but I must say his size and weight was a shock.

What else hasn’t he told me?

We went to the restaurant and I cringed walking through the door, not because of his size but because it was obvious he had been asleep in his clothes for a couple of hours.  I felt so out of place, sat at a table with someone who still had sleep still in their eyes.

The date is now a blur with only “highlights” (oh the irony), here are some of them:

  • Realising Dutch had not only slept in his cloths, but also he was still wearing his work clothes from that morning.  How did I realise?  He had his work ID still on.
  • He wasn’t a qualified accountant, he was doing his exams.
  • He liked Amaretto but he thought it was Jagermeister.
  • He told me, several times, that it was my fault he was late.  (After the date he told me this was a joke.)
  • He doesn’t eat much, but polished off a starter, main and pudding and my leftovers.

But mostly, it was how he kept contradicting himself and how he did not appreciate me questioning it.  The couple at the next table must have thought it was hilarious.

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So after our pudding, Dutch kept asking if we were going for drinks afterwards.  My excuses ranged from being tired, it was late to I’m not a big drinker.  The bill came and he asked again if I wanted to go for a drink, I said no.

At the end of any date I ask three times if I can pay for half the bill.  Three times, clearly.  If they say no each time, I thank them and put the tip in.  I did this with Dutch; and he declined.  I thanked him genuinely, and we left the restaurant.

When outside, he asked again if I wanted to go for a drink.  As we were thankfully alone, because I politely declined hoping he would take the hint and let me go.  But he didn’t.  He asked me why, so I said gently and kindly that this was not a good date.  Dutch looked shocked… and then looked angry.

So he asked for me to pay for half the bill.

I was gob-smacked.  What the hell?!  I snapped at him to go to hell, stormed off and got into a taxi.  I told the poor driver to “Just drive, now”.  I felt like I was in a film until my manners caught up with me, and the driver heard my tale of woe.

I got home AN HOUR AND A HALF after I left.  My parents were shocked that I walked in so early.  So I told them what happened and decided to walk my dog.  As I was walking ol’ Chazbert, I was texting a friend and copied my summary of the night so I could tell others.

But my run-in with Dutch wasn’t over… 

He messaged me, said that he had enjoyed spending the evening with me and wondered whether he could see me again.  I was outraged, and without thinking I sent him the copied text I had just sent to my friends.  He replied that he didn’t remember the date being that bad and then said he was joking for most of the night, none of that was true.  Telling him no, I deleted his number and messages.  Two days later, he asked again.  I suggested he doesn’t contact me again and blocked him.

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That was my worst date EVER.  In retrospect, I’m glad it happened on my first date after the big break-up.  Not only did it make me realise that my gut is pretty spot on, but also I got this story.

It still makes me laugh to think about Dutch; he was definitely one sandwich short of a buffet.

 

Mar 2 0