I’m politically minded. I find politics incredible. And people who use their political influence to inspire change are exactly the type of person for me.

So when the politician approached me on a popular dating site, I was intrigued.

He didn’t describe himself as a “politician” but a civil servant. It was only after several days talking that his true identity was made clear.

So the thing that encouraged me to first talk to this guy was his ethics. He seemed almost exactly aligned with me ethically and moralistically (this doesn’t happen often) so we started chatting.

As my dating life continues. I’m becoming more and more cautious as to how people present themselves via typing. I naively believe that everyone is as open, and honest as me in their words. So my new strategy is to get them on the phone as soon as possible and start chatting.

This worked in The Politicians favor as he quickly became a lot more interesting during our phone conversations. He was passionate about so many topics and was well travelled. We ended up talking for about 2 hours on our first conversation.

We spoke for 3 hours the next day, then 4, etc.

we instantly connected and I really enjoyed chatting to him.

He told me as much as he could about the work he was doing. I waxed lyrical about my (comparatively boring) life.

But the more we talked, the more there were warning bells. No he wasn’t a sexual deviant (shockingly). He wasn’t into drugs or gang bangs. He didn’t have a kinky side that had ethical consent issues. No dear reader….He liked to bake!!!

Now I don’t object to a man liking to cook or bake. I firmly encourage it (considering my love of all foods). However, the politician described in depth the kind of cake he would make for any occasion.

I would tell him something shit/good/ tragic/funny and he would come up with lines such as “this calls for a “buttercream Sunday cake” or “it really sounds like Kim needs a coffee cake today!!” (I hate coffee for the record, but he never listened to that!!).

He also listed” Great British Bake Off” (a Show I actually cannot stand) as possibly on of his fav summer highlights. I simply hate the show. If anyone is watching it, I just walk out. I have nothing against cakes (as we’ve discussed), but I don’t find it realistic or life changing to watch a bunch of people all baking the same cake in unrealistic time constraints.

I also hate Mary Berry. Well not her exactly (she seems like a lovely lady), but I hate the way she eats. As a fork comes close to her mouth, her tongue darts out like a lizard to taste the food before it’s even close to her lips. It just reminds me of something from Jurassic Park and I can’t watch anything with her and food.

I know she is the nations favourite grandma, but I just can’t. Sorry Mary.

So the Politician has voted himself the best hugger in London and keeps sending me messages about his “big strong muscles” giving me a hug.

His obsession with hugging me with his “big strong muscles” Defo screamed of someone with an issue with their body (or mind). He was probably complimented by a girl once about his muscles and has never moved past that compliment… awkwardly Making it part of his identity.

So apart from the cake and muscle “obsession”, I decide to meet him anyway.

I usually go to my fav eatery but this time we met at my local pub because I needed to rush home quickly mid “date” to do something.

So he rocks up early (impressed), and calls me to ask if he can get me a cider (see…he has been paying attention). I declined and said I would be there soon.

Now, I’m not adverse to a guy buying me a drink at all (it’s almost as rare as a unicorn for me), but I do object to not seeing my drink being poured if I don’t know someone. I’ve had something slipped into my drink before and ended up in hospital so if I can’t see my drink being made, I won’t have it.

When I arrive at the pub, he’s visibly breathtaken by my appearance (it was a good hair day day reader!!). I’m not arrogant, or narcissistic, or vain in any way. But to have never previously had such a reaction as you walk into a room, this man was doing well. I felt like Ursula Andress walking out of the sea in “Bond”.

He then went in for a hug (with his big strong muscles) and he’s right. He wasn’t lying about that. He has bloody strong muscles that held me in such a bear hug grip that the next day. I noticed my chest was bruised!!!

So the “date” is going swimmingly but he’s not as interesting as I first thought. We may have made the mistake of getting to know each other a little “too well” over the phone that my conversation skills are lacking…. or my interest is lacking. I’m not sure which. But I’m now bored…… and he’s talking about cake again.

He also goes in for a kiss a little too soon. I’m all for kissing and pda, and demand to be ravaged whenever possible (in a clean and wholesome way as this is a family blog). But when I’ve already mentally checked out of the date, and clearly not that interested, his forwardness irked me.

Thankfully I get my call, and I have to rush home to deal with something quickly. I promised him I would return. Why I hear you ask? I just don’t know, but I had promised to return. So I formulate a new plan to get me the hell out of the date as soon as possible.

I return to the pub with my dog Chaplin. Chaplin is a gentle soul but he is easily spooked around big guys. So I knew that he wouldn’t do so well with an over enthusiastic politician wanting to give him a hug.

Within 4 minutes of returning, the dog and I had to leave (thanks for having my back Chaplin) and I bid adieu to The Politician.

He did become a little needy/obsessive messaging and calling me super frequently after having the “best time”. I actually had to send him a message saying it was all becoming a little bit much for me and I needed to focus on my career rather than dating.

He would still send me random “cake” pictures every now and then but thankfully that has fizzled out also.

And as I have cake for breakfast, I’ll occasionally think about him and wonder if his bragging about baking were anywhere near as truthful as his “big, strong, muscles” claim.

Let them have cake….. didn’t like it!!!

So this guy seemed epic. He came across as super interesting on his online profile and was very good at chatting.

He had clearly studied my profile and had done his homework. This impressed me. When someone doesn’t share your interest but goes to the effort of learning something about your passion before you meet…. I’m down. I’m one of those annoying “Type A” people who hate being unprepared for anything and if I don’t understand something, I will google the shit out of it till I can grasp the basic concept.

So, the night of the date and he’s late. Lateness never used to bother me previously. I was always more annoyed when people turned up early expecting me to be there/ready. But since allowing all these strangers into my life, I’ve started to work out more about what I like/dislike in a person and what I find attractive/unattractive in a personality.

So he’s late and I’m not down with it. Thankfully I’ve arranged to meet at my fav london eatery so I am busy chatting to the staff and vendors until he rocks up.

He arrives and he looks like his profile picture (albeit with a very closely shaved head). And then he smiles at me and I notice his front teeth are missing. Now as you know dear reader, I’m not superficial. I don’t judge based on appearances. I hate shallowness and the idea of someone judging me based on my looks alone just makes me cringe. However….. this threw me. I have a pretty alright memory and I’m sure I would have remembered a toothless picture. I’m trying not to be thrown by this entire thing, but he is reminding me of a hillbilly extra from “American History X” and it’s leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

So I walk him round the venue and he wants a drink. Cider? Oh baby. Welcome to my world. So we rock up to the cider bar and he says he wants what I’m having. Yup.. he’s got potential 😉

So I pull my wallet out to pay and he thanks me for the drink and just stares at me. I was expecting to go halves Romeo, but whatever.

This behavior is actually starting to bother me more and more.

I’m generally not impressed by chivalry. I don’t believe a man should pay. I do often think some guys want something in return for “paying for a woman’s night out”…..not all guys (before anyone throws a tantrum).

I believe in equality and starting a relationship/friendship on a level playing ground and that to me starts at that first moment. I think expecting your partner to pay (no matter their sex) is just rude. Make the effort to offer to pay your way as a sign of respect to that person. If they refuse, then that’s fine. But you’re not taking advantage of someone financially, or expecting them to support you.

This probably wouldn’t bother me so much if it wasn’t a continuous pattern now.. and dating in london is becoming expensive when nearly every guy seems to expect me to buy them dinner and drinks!

I brush it off. I brush off a lot. And he gives me the widest toothless smile.

We go and sit down outside. The weather is glorious and the atmosphere is amazing and we start to chat.

He’s into crypto currency. A subject I had recently just learned about (thanks to Netflix). He’s travelled the world. Spent a lot of time in South Africa and Germany. He mentions Rhodesia. I pray he’s not a white supremacist. He’s been to New York (I think this was why I first started talking to him tbh).

Now the New York connection becomes interesting. For anyone who knows me in real life, knows that one of my major fantasies when moving to NYC many moons ago was to meet a nice, fat, bearded, balding, Jewish husband who lived on the upper east side who had a bagel shop. It was legit one of my fantasies for years. (Side note, my imaginary Jewish husband also was taller than me, a comedian and played pro basketball when not at the bagel shop…. it’s called a fantasy for a reason kids… that man doesn’t exist!!!)

So it turns out that mister “toothless” not only had family who had a bagel shop in NYC, but also another side of his family had a bagel shop in north london. And this is where I sighed the hugest sigh of relief. He wasn’t a Neo Nazi…. he was Jewish!!!

I felt I could relax a little more now. He told me about his many visits to Israel (somewhere I’ve always wanted to visit), and his hopes and dreams for the future.

The latter part of this conversation is what depressed me the most.

Now dear reader, I don’t care what passion my future spouse has as long as he loves it. I don’t care how much he earns if he is passionate about it. I don’t care what he does as long as he strives to be the best in his field. I have more in common with a street sweeper who wakes up most days excited to go to work and has purpose and intention, than I would the owner of a Fortune 500 company who earns millions but is filled with bitterness and purposelessness.

“Toothless” lived with his parents and brother still and worked the minimum amount of time possible each week to just cover his expenses. He had no drive. No ambition. And no passion. He didn’t even have a passion for bagels (which probably would have been enough for me knowing my obsession for boiled bread!!).

So he’s hungry and decides to get some food. He literally starts Marching off before getting 100 yards before turning round to see what I want to eat.

He may or may not have heard me say some swear words at him in Spanish (thank you Duolingo!!). I like to think he suddenly remembered his manners.

I point him in the direction of all the good food vendors and explain vegan food to him. He has a vegan sister so assures me that he’s got this covered.

As he leaves, I dive back onto the app to find out more about the teeth situation. All his profile pictures have pictures of teeth. So I then start googling “teeth caps”, “caps for teeth”, “false teeth”, “photoshopping teeth into a mouth”. until I feel I have now graduated from “Google University” of cosmetic dentistry and am still none the wiser as to where this mans teeth have gone to.

He heads back over holding two entire trays worth of food. Fuck the teeth. This man is a feeder and I’ve now fallen in love. Im already salivating. I feel like one of Pavlovs dogs, moments after that food bell rang. He puts the feast down in front of us and proclaims that “I couldn’t find anything vegan, so you’ll have to get your own”. I’m absolutely stupefied as not only did he go to every vendor I recommended (he gets an A+ for his listening skills), but he also ordered 2 regularly vegan dishes that he confesses he had them add meat to!!!

I’m done. I have nothing. I’ve lost my appetite. I want him to choke on a prawn.

I use these dates as a way of learning about myself. As both a human and an actress. It becomes an exercise to see if I can stay calm in any situation. Can I pretend that everything is ok and play a new role with each and every guy I see?

It’s an exercise about being in the moment and responding to a stimulus given. It’s basic improv with a “yes and” theory.

As I give yet another academy award worthy performance about what a great time I’m having, but I sadly have to leave.

He hits me with this line.

“I don’t usually like fat girls, but you’re seriously awesome”

You know how he lost his teeth dear reader? He was punched in the face and had an epileptic fit.

Why would anyone want to ever hurt this man? I just have no clue