So the tinder pool was running dry and Drummer boy from Tinder 1.0 recently messaged me to reconnect.
He was a lot of fun and super interesting the first time around so I jumped at the chance.

He wanted pizza. I always want pizza. It was a match made in heaven. So I invited him to my usual place for the best pizza ever. It did not disappoint.

He looked just as cute as I remember him, with a mop of tight curly hair and strong facial features. He’s also a drummer so had nice arms (not that I was objectifying him in any way!!) ?

The venue was packed so we ordered pizza and food and searched for a seat. Once we found one, we vowed never to leave.

The pizza was good (as per usual), but what made me happiest was how impressed Drummer boy was with my rather awesome venue choice. He loved the venue, food, and drinks.

Now dear reader. Drummer boy is a actually a FB friend of mine and seemed rather disappointed when nothing spectacular was happening in order to make it into a #tindertale ….. however, the night was still young ?

After 3 hours of solid eating and drinking, his guard was down and (dare I say it), he was starting to get a little flirty.

I decided to go to the bar and get us another round of ciders and after paying for our drinks and about to walk away, some random wanker bumped into me, making me spill the drinks and smash the glasses. Within seconds, my bouncer friend was on the guy, ready to chuck him out. He had pinned him against the wall and was asking “are you alright Kim?”, “is he harassing you?”.
Wow Chris, thanks for the backup, but I’m cool. Glad he had my back though. I am given 2 new drinks and return to our seats.

So drummer boy and I were getting on super well. I think he just wanted to see me again to talk business, but I was taking any attention I could get. He wants to help me create my app ideas and I was making a Tinder date out of a job interview. Don’t judge me people. However with the number of ciders I had had already, I didn’t even care anymore.

We ended up chatting sci fi and Netflix and I ended up sharing my Netflix list with him as recommendations (I never do that).

After a while, we ended up playing on each other’s Tinder profiles. He was annoyed he didn’t get many matches, but I get loads. Side note: I do get loads of matches but maybe 1% I actually end up talking with.

So literally as he is complaining that he doesn’t get any matches, he suddenly gets a notification from Tinder that he has a new match. The excitement on his face was just adorable. He was so happy to have a match (other than me Obvs), and it was sheer glee on his face as he opened the app to see who from. We were both waiting with baited breath as he clicked to see that he had matched with….. a man!!!! A man, pretending to be a woman!!
He’s not into men. Poor drummer boy.

The cider was beginning to catch up with me so I decided to “break the seal” and pee. The line for the ladies was ridiculously long (seriously, why is this always an issue?), and I started chatting to the girl standing next to me.
She was super adorable, but very drunk.
So drunk in fact that she was having difficulty standing up properly. When it was her turn to go to the toilet, she semi dragged me in with her and asked for help !!!
While I have been dragged into my fair share of bathrooms by friends needing help with Buttons, zippers, or holding hair back. I have never been dragged in by a stranger asking me to check….. a mole between her breasts!!!!!
She told me She had only just noticed it and she was worried…. drunk but worried.
We both pulled out or phones to further inspect the mole, only to discover it was…..a black bean from her tacos which had somehow “glued” itself to her breasts!!

Crisis averted, I returned to my date… and another cider.

Having the most brilliant time. Mostly talking about Blade Runner tbh.

Come 11pm, we were both in need of chips (fries my American friends), but all of the stalls were closed. That was until I had the genius plan of using my “hey I’m a regular here” card, and went and flirted with the vegan stall guys for some food. They obliged, and I became the hero to drummer boy when I returned with the said food. Not all heroes wear capes people.

Twas nice.

I haven’t been sleeping well so took a sleep aid last night and woke up groggy to the foster puppy having poopageddon all over the floor.
You try and tread carefully around it only to slip over a puddle of pee and land in shit up To my eyeballs (literally my eyeball nearly had poop in it).
You desperately need the toilet (like the old woman that You are) so you try and lift your poop and pee covered body to open the dog gate to get out of the room. But the dog gate won’t open as your hands are covered in diarrhea and puppy pee, so you decide to try and climb over the gate.
As you try and get the second leg over the gate, the puppy decides to start licking your toes and you fall into another heap on the floor with one shit covered foot resting nonchalantly on top of the gate.
This is about where you weigh up as to if it is
Better to just pee yourself, get up and squat on a pee pad or continue the noble fight to the bathroom.
Guess what I did?

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?

So my uber pulls up and the driver gets out the car and holds the door open for me. And being me, I’m like “oh, hey Kim. Looking good”. He then asks if he should put the air conditioning on. Yup, I’m legit going to marry this guy.
It was all going so well until he asks “how far along I am!!”.
Me “how far along? Like to the theatre?”
Him “no in your pregnancy!”
Me “ohhhhhhh”

So I have typical fat girl problems and often get asked how far along I am in my pregnancy when people spot my bagel belly.

So instead of being a normal person and saying “nah bitch, I’m just fat”, I do my usual thing and just lie saying I am pregnant, and start making up shit about scans and sexes and all this other stuff. See friends with children, i do Kinda listen to what you’re saying without even realizing.

He then says he remembers me from a previous uber trip and how is that last child doing?
Ffs, like the only uber driver who has ever remembered me also remembers my last fake pregnancy.

So now I’m stuck in an uber having an entire conversation about how baby Timmy is really looking forward to having a baby brother. His name will probably be Tommy (I don’t know where that came from guys. I’m disappointed in myself also!!! ).

So I’m now expecting another imaginary child who I already have enrolled in the best pre school in the borough!!!!!

All this for some air conditioning

So today was shit (see previous post), so I wanted to go for a swim this morning. Walked my pretty ass to the sports Centre this morning swiped my card and the fuckers wouldn’t let me in. Turned out that before 12, it’s for over 60’s only!!! Like what the hell? Surely that’s age discrimination?
So I tried to sweet talk myself into the pool and nobody would believe that I was over 60…. I don’t understand why!!
So I was like, fine….. I’ll use the gym. They wouldn’t let me into the gym as my membership had accidentally expired. So I’m all like, “ummm, no it hasn’t”, and they are all like “yes it has”, and I’m like “get me a manager!!”, and they are all like “ok”.
So anyway, we kinda, sorta have a resolution but I have to go home and look at my statements as to when I last paid.
I walked home and just lost the will to live (or go back to the gym), and watched Netflix.
I then ate all the food in my house and hugged dogs.

So after a few hours, Chaplin was giving me evils and as he wouldn’t walk himself, I decided to be a responsible dog owner and take the big man out.

We went on our usual walk along the river Thames. For some reason today, Chaplin was filled with mischief and he just kept running about like a maniac. I took him to his beach and he just refused to run around at all. It was annoyingly peak tourist time/ peak drunk businessmen along the river time and I just looked like a total twat standing on the beach with a dog who refused to move. So to entice Chaplin to move, I decided to have a little run along the beach to get him moving. This was my first mistake.
Running on the beach with a dog is fun, drunk businessmen cheering us on was mortifying, tourists taking our picture was embarrassing however, Chaplin loved it.
The problem with sandy beaches is the sand. So once we were done, I needed to take my cheap ass fake Converse trainers off and get the sand out. Of course I wasn’t wearing any socks… like why would I?
So Chaplin was still expecting a walk, so we started off along the Thames again. Checking out the buskers, saying hi to children (Chaplin, not me), and swearing at runners (mostly me, but a little bit Chaplin) who were reenacting the psychological warfare from “Apocalypse Now” with their loud obnoxious music.

We just kept walking, and walking, and walking until 2 hours had gone by, and I was pretty sure we weren’t in London anymore.
My feet were killing me (and still sandy), and I had been playing the same song on repeat continuously that I was beginning to question my sanity.

So we sat on a bench and watched the sun set, and got a fucking taxi home