Perhaps the very second date I went on as a newly single Londoner was with a guy that I met on Match.com.
Being new to dating, and having spent years hearing people talk about the likes of Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, Match...I was so curious to see what they were all about, so I, naturally, went a little "bos" (which is South African slang for being a little extreme in the way you do something, but describes it so much better. Bos also means bush in a literal sense...which is totally not relevant in this context....where was I?)
Anyway, on paper this guy seemed funny, quirky, moral, employed...all the good adjectives, basically. We messaged back and forth for a few days about the generic "who are you, what do you do, what do you like" shit, he asked for my number, we agreed to meet and bobs-your-uncle. He did send me some very random texts in the days leading up to meeting - one of which had something to do with him witnessing a bird flying at some woman in the street. I hadnt the faintest clue what this guy was on about, nor how to respond appropriately (...to a guy I hardly knew about a random bird story), so I went with a bird pun (default, right!?) and replied with "Thats Hawkward!"
No reply. Not even a weak "lol". Just radio silence.
I thought it was my bad sense of humour and that he surely thought I was a complete imbecile.
A few days later, I met LibrarianGuy (as he shall henceforth be known) at Covent Garden tube station (in London...obviously). As we politely made first date small talk, I noticed that he stood oddly close to me, almost leaning towards me as he spoke to me. My natural reaction was to lean back - or step back, which is what I did - because personal space, mate. I was desperately hoping that he was a little drunk or something and wasnt a weird leany-in person.
He took me to a pub called Punch and Judy where we had a few glasses of wine - three to be exact. Two of which I paid for. (The reason I mention this will become apparent a little later on)
We chatted about various generic things, including my job and his - he was a librarian for a charity, and I work in the tech sector as a technical person. He took this to mean that I earn a lot of money and kept on lamenting about how much more I must earn than him. A point that I kept trying to either not comment on or defer, but that he kept harping on about throughout the evening.
Another weird thing that happening was that, at one point, I noticed that I had something in my shoe and needed to remove the shoe to get rid of whatever it was and readjust; he watched me with an intense gaze as I did this, even moving back and looking under the table and commented, almost under his breath: "Painted toenails" (assumingly at my painted toenails) - creepy much?
I think we spent about an hour and a half at this pub before he told me that we were going somewhere else and, as I was mildly drunk by this point, I willingly picked up my belongings and followed him out of the pub and through the streets of the West End until we ended up at Trafalgar Dining Rooms in Trafalgar Square.
Trafalgar Dining Rooms (through wine goggles, at least) was lovely - very chic and elegant with well dressed staff and a well populated cocktail menu. We sat down on a couch and ordered a round of cocktails which, still unbeknownst to me, they gave us on the house. At this point, I can scarcely remember what we were discussing, but I do distinctly remember getting to the 20 questions round for the evening...basically, he suggested that we are each given a certain number of questions to ask back and forth which had to be reciprocated with an answer and the follow-on questions could not be related to the previous one, nor could it be the same as the last question the other had asked. I dont know why I am going to into so much detail about this "game", because I dont remember what we asked each other, except to say that he got a little inappropriate with his questions towards the end of the game and got a little annoyed with me when I descended into drunken stupidness when answering his questions in an effort to diffuse, for lack of a better word, his line of questioning.
Being inebriated, I do believe he sort-of kissed me at one point, but then stopped and told me something along of the lines of needing to feel safe, comforted and understood - or some shit like that. All I remember thinking was "ALRIGHT MATE, WE ARENT GETTING MARRIED. CHILL YER BAPS"
By 11pm, it was time to go home, so we asked for the bill which arrived almost immediately. LibrarianGuy then says to me that, since he had bought the drinks at the pub and because I earn more than he does, I should get these drinks... ...... ...... NOW, HOLD THE FUCKING DOOR. I, absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, have no problem with paying for drinks when on a date, but it should be 50/50. End of.
I had paid for two out of three rounds at the first pub and now I was being told that since he paid at the pub (which he did - but ONE round only), and because he assumed that I earned more than he did, I should pay for the cocktails at the bar we were at!?
Anyway, pick your battles right? I paid and we left. He then grabbed my hand and proceeded to drag me through the streets of London to Charing Cross station. Once we had arrived and were in the process of saying our goodbyes, he told me that on our next date, I should wear heels of the same height as I had on that night because he likes me at that height.
We had, much earlier in the evening, discussed a second date (before shit got really weird, obviously) where we would meet in Greenwich for a drink and dinner, and go on a walk through the park, so when he told me to wear heels on this next date, I responded by saying that I would not wear heels if we were going to be spending time walking around a park - his face told me he didnt like that answer.
Very shorty after, we went out respective ways back in the directions of where we lived - fortunately, his direction was opposite to mine. I think he texted me the next day (again, some random text to which I really didnt know how to respond).
I had in fact learnt that my prior-to-meeting bird pun had not received a response because this guy was fundamentally a creepy weirdo devoid of a sense of humour - in fact, had I been so indulgent, Im fairly certain there were a few weird obsessions lurking beneath the surface.
Despite my poor judgement due to the alcohol on the night, I realised the remarkable error of my ways and sent him a "Dear John..." text a few days later and then blocked him - so I have no idea if he ever replied, and thank god for that.
I also deleted my Match.com account shortly after that because fuck that. I was not in the market for the weirdos of London, and by all accounts, Match.com was where they lived.
No comments:
Post a Comment