So this guy has been chatting to me for about a week. He’s super super interesting. He has sent me pictures of his art work, sends me poetry in Italian, has sent me videos of his concerts.

He is unbelievably accomplished in so many ways. I knew we would get along based on all the chats we had had.

He picked a Thai restaurant (having paid attention to a previous convo we had where I mention my love of Thai). I wore my first date dress so I didn’t get confused as to what’s what.

My Uber drive to the restaurant was surreal. The driver had a Pomeranian (which obviously got the convo started). He then kept talking about how we should get together for some sexy time.
And I’m like “mate, this is wildly inappropriate”
and he’s like “so sorry, I meant the dogs. My boy is a stallion”.
And I was like *eye roll*.
And he’s like “look How cute my pom pom is?”
As I’m all like “1 Star”

Ps it seems to be a London Tinder thing to leave your uber score in your dating profile. All the boys be like “5 stars”, “97% 5 Star reviews”, etc etc.
And I just cringe coz my Uber score is shit. It’s not because I’m a dick (ok, maybe sometimes it’s because I’m a dick), but it’s mostly because I smuggle bags of dogs into the Uber without telling the driver and strategically cough or sneeze whenever the dogs make a noise. Then when we rock up to whatever destination I want to go, I open the bags and free the doggos. They are like furry little jack in the boxes!!!

I digress. So we roll up to the Thai restaurant where The Artiste is looking rather dapper and handsome. He’s so arty and totally looking cool without trying. He has an NYC based t-shirt on (in a totally ironic way) with a blazer, and I’m digging it.
The bloody Uber driver, decides to be a gentleman and opens the door for me without any prior warning which resulted in me half falling out in full view of The Artiste. I turn it into a rather awkward curtesy. So awkward.

We have to wait 20 minutes for a table so we are standing by the door but conversation flows naturally. This man is a born performer and giving a great show. He is charismatic, charming, a gentleman.
We take our seat and he holds the menu open for me, we talk about food and wine and theatre (my passions combined).

So the Waitress takes our order and I order my fav papaya salad and a curry. He orders something in Thai with a perfect accent. I swoon.

My papaya salad turns up and it’s delicious. It takes me back to memories of my fav Thai restaurant in NYC and meals with my friend Sophie Gamand
After about 8 bites, there appears to be a fire in my mouth. I suddenly seem unable to take the heat and end up semi choking and semi begging for water. He pours me some water… and more… and more, until I have drank an entire hose pipe of H2O and still need more. I then get a coke, and 2 ice teas and still the burning continues. And every time it starts to cease, I take another mouthful of food (because it is so good). So I’m actually sitting there crying while taking mouthfuls of food and fanning my mouth.
He’s like “but why don’t you stop eating it?”
And I’m like “but it’s so delicious. It’s worth the pain”. (This probably perfectly highlights my turbulent relationship with food!!)
I think this is where he decided I was a little bit strange. Why would someone choose to continue eating something that is causing them physical pain???? I don’t know people. I just don’t know.

So as I’m crying away, he’s telling me about a show he is producing and from the previews he has shown me, it sounds amazing.

At this point, I couldn’t actually see him properly for tears in my eyes and I decided to give up on the salad.
The entire wait staff shoot me a look to say either “pathetic white girl”, or “she deserves a medal for taking part”. I couldn’t see that well through the tears to differentiate between the two!!

The main meal comes along and The Artiste is actually praying that it isn’t hot. You can see his visible panic as I take my first mouthful. And his audible sigh when I say it’s not spicy.

As we are eating, I start getting ridiculously animated and end up dropping curry down my dress… along with tofu down my bra. And he just watches me as I try and pretend like nothing happened and hide the panic from my face. It becomes awkward as he is sitting staring at me gobsmacked, and I am just trying to be as cool as a bank manager denying your loan application (all while smiling manically to overcompensate for how clumsy I am!).
He hands me a tissue to clean up my top and I just pretend everything is fine.

We chat and chat and chat and it’s engaging and fascinating and wonderful and I suddenly need to pee (could have something to do with the lake full of water I drank with the starter).
He then says “you may want to check the tofu is ok in your bra also!!”
Me “I’m sure it’s cool!!”
Da Fuk Kim!! Da actual Fuk!!

The meal continues and I’m too mortified to eat dessert so we go for a walk.

It’s a light breeze but a cool evening to be strolling. I suddenly desperately need the loo again (damn you water), and the only place nearby that is open is where he is staying. I’m really not one to go back to a guys house on a first date, but I weighed up the pros and cons and decided that if he was a murderer, I would rather die with an empty bladder!!

So he opens the door and it’s a bloody studio set up with a clear door for the bathroom and my heart just drops. Why is this happening to me?
So I did what any self respecting girl would do when presented with an acute need to pee, vs a clear door (with no hook)…. I took my cardigan off and held it up in front of me to protect my shame.
And so I peed…..while silently sobbing inside.

After I was done, I needed to get out of there ASAP so said I was going to book an Uber. He asked for my help moving a couple pieces of furniture and setting up for a photo shoot he was doing in the morning. It was the least I could do after being so damn inadequate .

So here I am, helping this man redecorate his Airbnb studio, wishing that the tofu was still down my bra as I’m getting hungry again

***EDITED***
He wants to see me again (I think to produce his show) and I got home and scoffed a bag of donuts!!

Well wow guys. First “date” I have been on in years that actually felt like a date.

So it’s meeting 2 with the Italian and after really fucking up being late last time, I decided to be early this time!!! They say the road to hell is paved with good intention right?
Well, I decided to wear my “pizza dress” (you know the one with the mushroom Incident last week?) because it’s since proven pretty successful with pizza (once I learnt to maneuver past the boobs!!).
So, I get into the Uber with plenty of time to spare and almost everything that could go wrong on the journey, went wrong. Bridges were closed. Roads were closed. The driver ran out of petrol. So the entire time, I am messaging him with timing updates and he’s so unbelievably Italian and is super chill and says “in my country, up to 30 minutes is not considered late”. so I’m now officially in love with him that he can tolerate my tardiness twice in a row.
So while in the taxi, previous tinder date (who is now my friend), starts messaging me and I tell him that I am schlepping to North London to have pizza!!!. This is a big deal for me, as I don’t like leaving central london at all. So I stupidly let out a flippant thought saying I hope it’s better than the trip to the supermarket for dessert date. And the bastard replies saying that we are probably going to Dominoes!!!! Like why would be put that thought in my head? Why? Now all I can think about is if I need to get a half and half or spring for a meal deal!!!

I have been sat in this uber for over an hour on a journey that promised to be 25 minutes!!! I feel like I have sat here so long, that I have witnessed world war 3, my great grand children have just celebrated their 100th birthday, and the iPhone 89 has just been released !!!!! It just keeps going on and on and on. I’m scared to blink in case i open my eyes to a similar scene to Will Smith in “I Am Legend”
Uber lies and false promises. Fake news Uber. Fake news.
So I rock up to restaurant and I’m not just late for an English person, but also now late for an Italian (I’m still early for a Trinidadian so don’t panic too much!).

So he’s made an effort also and looks very sweet. Sadly, the restaurant is busy so we have to go to a local pub and have a drink until a table is ready. Unfortunately, it’s the middle of a football match and I hate one of the teams with a passion. So, I buy us a pint each (yes I got cider darlings), and we awkwardly perch on the edge of the bar.

Conversation is slow. And we end up chatting about nearly all the same topics as the last time we met. I secretly plot an escape plan (which may or may not have involved setting fire to things!). However, just as I was trying to find a box of matches at the bar, we got the call that our table was ready.
Thank goodness. Pizza will save the convo.

The pizza was good but not the best I had ever tried. It reminded him of Home and with every bite, he became more and more nostalgic. And with every swig of wine, the conversation flowed better and better.

He was remarkably funny and so smart and talented. He did however eat his pizza with a knife and fork which freaked me out.

I gave him a slice of my pizza. Y’all know that’s a big deal for me!!! We may as well be married now!!!

This was a good date and felt “datey” as he gently touched my fingers with his until they were intwined.

And you try not to get excited and think about the future. You really do. But all I could think about was prosecco picnics in the park and little pizza babies running through fields chasing pepperoni butterflies.

We then went on and got more drinks in a rather random little bar in North London and he planned our next pizza date. In fact, he had an entire list of places we are going to….. all pizzerias (he had done his research on me!!). and he’s going to cook me pasta (like a proper Italian). Although he said “potato pasta sauce” which I am Hoping is just a translation issue rather than an actual dish!!! (Potatoes and pasta cooked together and made into a sauce)

And it all sounds lovely apart from he hates dogs (so it clear won’t work out), and all I can think about is how much I need to pee and get out of these spanx!!! Why must my clothes torture me so?

From the beginning of the evening.

He is revenge late (see previous post here) and told me to get an uber to a coffee shop in Bermondsey.

I entered my uber in central london and seemed to exit In Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Surrounded by hipsters and losing the will to live.

The coffee shop was filled with pretentious twats mispronouncing chipotle and kombucha.

I ended up ordering an artisanal, fair trade, organic Apple juice where the “barista” made sure to tell me how they had visited the farm personally and liked the “ethos”. They are playing Blur in a non ironic way (in a yup, Blur actually made another album after they were famous!!!).
Kill me now. Just kill me!!!

So he turns up and he looks casual as fuck. And I’m dolled up with a dress, and makeup (ignore the Converse for the moment). And he informs me that the tapas place is full so he knows another place nearby. A steak house.
Y’all know I’m a vegan. I’m not a preachy vegan by any means. But knowing someone is a vegan, you wouldn’t suggest a steak house as a dinner date would you? This is what my inner monologue is saying. My actual response was “ok, no problem. I’m sure they have something vegan I can have.”.
We turn up and I ask the waitress if I can look at the menu before we sit down. It’s all in french. French isn’t usually a problem for me but I’m just not in the right frame of mind to translate anything….. and I’m hungry. So I tell the waitress that I’m vegan and is there anything at all I can eat? So she says the chef will rustle up something. Phew.

We sit down and he orders a steak and I get “whatever the chef can rustle up!”.

Conversation is awkward. He’s asking me for career advice as he’s quitting his job. What is it about me that people keep confusing with a careers advisor? So I’m like “be an instagrammer!!” Trying to be facetious. Sadly he thought I was being serious and then asked me how to become an instagrammer.

Food turns up and my meal was literally 3 baby potatoes and 5 asparagus Spears!!!! Now, yes. I sometimes am prone to exaggerating a little…. sometimes. But this was actually what was served to me.
Y’all know how much I enjoy my food and this “meal” made me want to cry.

He’s just learnt to swim (bless him), and tells me all about his lessons.

So my potatoes have been eaten and the bill arrives. I pull out my card (standard for me. I always go Dutch) fully expecting to pay for meal. He then tells he server, we will be splitting the bill. So I end up paying £24 ($30) for my 3 baby potatoes and asparagus. ?

He proposes we get dessert. Finally something I can be excited about. He will redeem himself.
He tells me that there is somewhere nearby that has a few options and my heart actually sings. Waffles? Pancakes? Cheesecake? Please be cheesecake.

So we cross the road and we walk into co-op supermarket to grab “dessert”!!!! I have never been so horrified in my entire life.
For my international readers, Co-op is a chain of supermarkets that are fully stocked with empty promises and disappointment. Think the awesomeness of 7Eleven while you are drunk!!!

He takes the last ice cream and then says “what you gonna have?”. This is the moment where my heart actually tore in two. He had lulled me into false hope and had watched me fall from a tremendous height. So I picked up a mini pack of pineapple. “I’ll just have this”.

I then suggest we get an uber so we aren’t late for my friends show and he laughs at me, suggesting we get the bus. I have never had anyone laugh at me for suggesting we get an uber. Yes I know I am uber obsessed, but what is life without small pleasures?

At this point I just want to make up an excuse and leave. But he knows I am going to the show, and it would just be awkward so I follow him onto the bus.
We don’t talk.

We turn up at the show and it’s superb and awkward and brilliant. The Australian Just isn’t into it and seems bored out of his mind. I’m laughing hysterically

One of my improv friends turns up late and sits behind me with what looks like a mail order Bride (sorry Paul). And as the show goes on my brain starts going. Should I start a mail order bride business? What is a good web domain for this kinda business? Is selling people illegal? everywhere? Is this a better option than Tinder?
By the end of Mike’s show, I had about 50 domains to purchase. All stupid puns along the lines of the Kinko’s slogan “make it. Print it. Pack it. Ship it”.

So the show ends and I’m pretty sure this guy hasn’t smiled once. I really needed to pee (and update y’all as to how awful this was). So I spend about 20 minutes lingering in the bathrooms. I wish I had taken a hip flask. Mental note to always carry a hip flask in case of emergency.
Maybe I could use the doggy camera and train a dog to bring me a flask of booze a la St Bernard’s!! So I start watching YouTube videos on how to train your dog to bring you things……. specifically bottles of booze. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, there aren’t many videos on this).

I eventually emerge from the bathroom and I’m pretty sure he breaths a sigh of relief that I actually returned. I wonder if it’s possible to hold my breath long enough to pass out???.

I try and end the evening by saying that i had fun and I’m going to go grab a drink with my friends from the show and stupidly, stupidly say “would you like to come?” He says yes and I then start to fantasize as to what a frontal lobotomy without pain relief feels like!!

I’ve never drunk a coke so fast in my life and used my dogs as an excuse to leave.
I had secretly hoped he would leave and I could double back and rejoin my friends. He however insists on walking me home ?

As we are walking, a drunk guy covered in vomit is dragged out of a pub into a police car and shouts to me “alright darling”. His girlfriend follows him closely behind crying. And I start wondering as to if a date with this drunkard would have been more fun!!!! Least there would have been a good story to tell!! Vomit vs Boredom? I can’t decide. I think his gf had a better night than I did!!!

So I’m now home, watching Pokémon (and working out how many degrees I need to get out of  the Spanx I appear to be trapped in!!) and he just texted me that he wants to see me again!!! FML

So as per my post earlier, I wasn’t really feeling up for a Tinder date tonight but didn’t want to cancel the guy after already changing the time twice today.

So I should preface this date with a shopping trip I had with a friend last week. She was sick of me just wearing a sports bra and schlep clothes that she took me shopping for lingerie that fits and forced me to buy multiple bra and panty sets. To be fare on her, I did have a steamy date that night so there was method to her madness.

Back to today. So because England decided to be graced with the coy presence of the sun , I realized that I couldn’t wear my regular first date outfit and had to think a little more abstractly.

I ended up picking a floral dress and some plimsols (because I am the only girl in the world who owns hardly any shoes!).
So I was looking pretty good in the outfit, considering I got ready in 10 minutes (and was already 10 minutes late) and was ready to meet my future ex from Tinder.

I picked a venue close to me. Anyone that knows me irl, knows I always go to the same place. It’s not remotely original but I like the food, atmosphere, and I also get a nice discount for being a regular ?

It’s less than 5 minutes walk from my flat so I let Tinder man know my eta. The only problem was, I was having peripheral vision issues. My eyesight was absolutely fine, but wearing this bra was unfocusing me. Wherever I looked, all I could see was boobs. Trying to cross the road? Boob obstruction. Putting my headphones away? Boob obstruction!!! Like my boobs were just everywhere I looked.
I’m not usually breast obsessed. They are just generally pillows. However, this new bra had somehow turned my breasts into Ursula Anderson In Bond mixed with Madonna in Vogue!!!

It also became a problem when I walked past the pub and I felt everyone was staring!!! Someone even asked how my day was!!!!!! (That is highly suspect from a Londoner!!).
So I ran (ok walked) back home to get a cardigan.

By this point, I was now 20 minutes late and I’m Pretty sure the guy thought I had stood him up.

I was able to walk better once covered up and met the date outside the venue. Now he had pre texted me what he was going to be wearing (a suit) and I knew this would go one of two ways. Either I instantly declare my love for him (knowing how much I love a man in a suit), or I think he is a politician. Thankfully it was the latter, and I was able to focus a little more on the conversation.

First thing he mentioned was how tall I am!!!!! I don’t understand why men on Tinder seem so surprised that someone who says they are 6ft tall, actually turns out to be 6ft tall!!!! It seems to be an ongoing theme recently.

So he’s lovely and buys me pizza (a sure way to my heart), I buy him beer (a way to a mans heart), and we find some seats. He offers to take my cardigan from me and before I had a chance to think, my bloody boobs were out like a beacon for every lost soul in the venue. Some random stranger actually came up to me and pulled a chair out for me to sit down at the table with my date!!! Another stranger across the communal table, handed me a napkin!!

When the pizza arrived, the entire situation became even worse as not only did I have to eat while Modestly covering my chest, I somehow managed to slam a pizza slice into the underside of my breasts while trying to get said slice from the table into my mouth!!!
I pretended to be casual about the entire thing and just brushed it off as nothing. That was until he started staring at my breasts. Almost transfixed. I was ready to give him a piece of my mind when I noticed a piece of mushroom stuck to the underside of my breast area started to slowly peel off and fall back onto the table. I was mortified and just sat there open mouthed unable to say anything other than softly muttering “I was saving that for later!!”

He wants to see me again!!!

So I’m back on Tinder and had arranged to meet this guy tonight at 9pm and hadn’t really set a place to meet and I hadn’t heard from him since so just assumed it was off…… until he called me at 9.10 asking where I was! !!
I made up an excuse and picked a new location.
I have never got out of my pajamas so fast on my life. Took me 12 minutes to get ready and get in an uber.

My leggings are damp, my socks are wrong for the shoe, my hair is wet and I’m pretty sure there is dog sick on my coat. but I’m here and guess what dear reader?
The bastard isn’t even here yet!!!

UPDATE

So he is Italian (who knew?). I probably would have known if I had done my pre date prep work and actually read his profile!!!
Was awkward when I didn’t know his name though!!
Haha fuck

So that probably could have gone better tbh.

At one point he asked what my hobbies/passions are so I listed them and he said “so do you like to do anything that you can’t earn money from?”….. is it my fault that I have hacked my life to just get paid doing things I love? Didn’t think so.
However, my boss is a bitch ?

Then the conversation got a little slow so I ended up telling him scene by scene the 7 hour play I had seen earlier this week!
I thought I was doing a pretty good job retelling the masterpiece until one of the actors from the show (sitting on the table behind me) ended up tapping me on the back and saying “you forgot this scene”!!!
It was literally the only scene that actor had lines in!!

Then he kept giving me compliments so (being British) I got entirely too embarrassed about the situation and I then spent a good 20 minutes talking about my dinner…. my dinner was basically spaghetti with chickpeas and a jar of sauce.

He stopped giving me compliments after he saw this picture!!! Wonder why???
#epicshitdinner

And so I had already lied saying I lived further away from the venue than I actually did so when he offered to walk me home, I was like “nah mate, I live a good 20 minutes in the wrong direction”, so he then insisted on waiting for me to get in a taxi. In any other situation I would have been like “awwww what a gentleman”, but this time I was pissed because I now had to lie to a poor helpless london cabbie about where I was going. So after waving the Italian off, I got distracted by Facebook (thanks guys), and didn’t correct the address. Only to be dropped off
In some random neighborhood in London where I am pretty sure hepatitis was invented.

Awwww I just got a message from him. Assumed it was to tell me what a lovely time he had with me, and how much money I saved him with my detailed play retelling. But no. It was to correct a spelling error on my website