As I am encouraging you all to share your online dating nightmares or hilarious tales for a new podcast project, I feel it is only fair to share mine. You show me yours and I will show you mine.
Another tale of love folks. A hungover Sunday is when I do most of my online dating. After I drag myself from bed, I sing “Man in the Mirror” into my mirror, butt naked and begin swiping.
I'm Gonna Make A Change,
For Once In My Life
It's Gonna Feel Real Good,
Gonna Make A Difference
Gonna Make It Right . . .
The internet obviously knew that I was lonely and hungover. And it supplied me with an email offering me 3 months free on Match.com.
“Oh delicious! A new app to play with!”
Match.com is a completely different beast than your other apps to find love. People on Match.com are legit looking for love. I joke about looking for love but I actually just want to go for a drink with pretty people. Now, I am no supermodel but I was inundated with Match.com requests and messages and hearts and all sorts of weird emojis. Some of these messages were from very attractive ladies. I was very flattered but when you actually read the bio of these women, we see things like
“Seeking long term relationship”
“NEED BABIEZ ASAP”
Woof, no thanks. I always wonder about people who “really want a relationship”. Surely the point of a relationship is that you have found someone that, at that point in time, you like more than other people? So, you should want a specific person not a title or whatever. Anyway, I am moving from the point. I received a message from a very attractive Irish girl. Irish. Maximum points. Any date that I have gone on with an Irish is always so much better. We are just a better standard of human. Sorry, rest of the world. But we are gas craic.
Anyway, we were chatting for a bit and unlike many of Match.com, did not mention babies within the first few sentences.
“Oh you are from Ireland? I love the Irish accent”
“Haha, yeah. I am from Ireland. I apparently have QUITE the Irish accent”
“Wen u wnt kidz?”
We went for a drink in Covent Garden. My god, I love Covent Garden. A superb date place for all you Londoners. A strong recommendation from Brian.
The date was going really well. She seemed sane and we had plenty of Irish things to talk about (Potatoes, The Famine, The Queen, 800 years of oppression, you know, the usual stuff). We got along very well and we had a smooch or two.
The next day, it all went sour very quickly. We got the tube together in the morning and all seemed rosey. We were discussing where we should go on our next date. She received a text and she looked shocked.
“Nah, I owe my ex boyfriend aload of money”
“Yeah, like loads. He is a drug dealer. I was getting a lot of stuff that I assumed was free. But it wasn’t. And he is mad. More so now that we have broken up”
Like, what am I to say to that?
“Cheer up champ! At least you had plenty of sweet drugs for a while!”
Instead, I sat and pondered my life choices and how I ended up sitting beside a women who was in a serious amount of debt with a drug dealer. Suddenly, She quickly jumped up and ran off the train.
I remained sitting. Confused. The doors closed and we pulled out of the station that was four stops before she was due to get off. Dating is weird and I have experienced plenty of weird situations, so I figured this was going to be another one. I just sat there and looked forward to texting my friends when I have reception. I hop out at my desired stop and grab my sacred morning coffee. I receive a text from our debt ridden princess saying that she had to get off because she had to vomit. Followed by a sick emoji.
Again, what do you say to that? The combination of last nights alcohol and a threatening text from an ex, made her feel sick. I have never been in such a situation but I can imagine that it is unpleasant. I was beginning to wonder whether I should actually see this girl again but she was very attractive (Yes, I am shallow. I have made my peace with it. You should to) and we had fun so why not?
We were texting throughout the day and she was going back up in my estimations. I know, what a glorious achievement for her. We once more were planning when to see each other next. I had a crazy day in work. We signed a new client and this new client (who I loved) forgot that we have other clients and I needed to put out a fire. Not literally. I would be an awful Fireman. I did not respond to her for several hours. It went like this;
I did not respond.
Does that make me a bad person? I don't think so, but I would think that. The evening part of the date was lovely and she was great but I don't want to be found buried in the back garden of her ex boyfriend's house. And who gets kicked out of their house? And who asks if you are busy, and then when you do not respond because you are busy, texts you to let you know that you are busy.
I wish her all the best. And I hope she found somewhere to live.
I did not see her again.