The Date who I THOUGHT was Booty Calling Me

This is a particularly funny one. 

Now, I am Facebook friends with this particular Tinderette so….sorry about this if you read this. But nothing to be wary of. This was actually my first Tinder date ever….or at least, I think it was. Suitable that it would end with a hilarious situation. Begin how you mean to continue. 

So, I matched up with this girl. She was very easy on the eyes and lovely. Great scenes. We went out on two dates but it wasn’t really there. I think we enjoyed each others company but there was no spark or whatever. But great company. The second date ended with a “OK, well, I guess we will see each other later”. 

Y’know how it is. 

After a very, very long week, I collapsed onto the couch in my old place, and began catching up with housemates. I tucked into a few cans and chatted away. I was all set for a nice relaxing and short evening. It was about 12.30am, when a text came in from our earlier Tinderella. We had not seen or spoken to each other in a few weeks so it was very random. I shall put her texts in italics. 

“Hey, how was your week?” 

Wut? 

“Yeah, it was grand. How was yours? Any scandal?” 

“Fine thanks. Do anything with your Friday?”

What is happening here? 

“I had a horrendously long day so figured I would just flake out” 

“I may have a proposition for you that will make your Friday better ;)” 

WUT?!?!

Alarm goes off in my head. This is a booty call. Alert, this is a booty call. I stand up to alert my housemates. They celebrate. Someone hands me a bouquet of flowers. There may have been rice thrown. 

Say something not retarded, Brian. Please don’t ruin this for us. 

“Always interested in a proposition that will improve my day”

WHAT?! 

That is what you say? Christ almighty. Brian, you deserve to die alone. And I think everyone who reads this blog, also agrees. So, we obviously screwed that up and she did not text again. 

“Oh great! I am at a gig at the moment, give me a few minutes as my reception is shit”

OH HANG ON. My horrendous way with words did not make her want to vomit, pull her eyes out of her skull and jump in front of oncoming traffic. 

 Right, second chance Collins. Don’t “Pull a Brian”. Here goes…

“Yeah, sweet.”

Oh nice. Superbly done. Somebody has spoken to women before. A regular James Bond. Obviously the next questions is asking where I am and how long it will take me to get back to her place and rock her body. 

Rock her body? 

Christ, you suck. 

The text comes in. 

“OK, so my work is having a charity pub quiz and I would love you to host it! I think you would be great!! :)” 

Oh wow. Hosting a pub quiz. Admittedly, I have done that and it was a tonne of fun. But when you are thinking it is a booty call. It is a particular come down. Especially having announced it to the room. 

The bouquet was taken back off me, we cleaned up the rice and I went to bed. 

I did not host the pub quiz.