So I did the typical girl thing and said no when I think I meant yes.
Dating was new territory, at university I was never taken on a date date, but this may have been partly due to being fat and ugly…a little gap year weight gain did me no favours…ask my mum about when I arrived back at Heathrow…she cried.
Relationships at university just kind of happen. Girls meets boy, digits exchanged the numerical kind, you bump into each other on a night out…ridiculous alcohol offers on top of your pre drinks that took place before your pre drinks tip you over the edge, then all that is left is the gamble as to whether you woke up with the guy you intended, a one night stand or….a kebab. Mine was always the latter, the only thing I went home with was a chicken tikka naan fresh off the press from Kebab Kid. I like to think it was because I was frigid but the more likely reality was that I was fat. The only gamble I took was whether I’d managed to leave it in the kitchen or I woke up with it in my bed.
Don’t get me wrong I wasn’t completely a lost cause, eventually in second year a guy started to pursue me but it took three months before I let anything happen as I honestly thought he could be having a laugh at my expense. So he courted me and my kebab in usual uni style and eventually he became my first serious boyfriend. And yes, I was still a little (a lot) rounded.
Then you move to London. No longer are you in the playground that is university, meeting friends of friends, boys in lectures or the opposite sex over a snakebite on a joint sport team night out. It never occurred to me how much we all had in common.
But London, well where on earth do you start? When you go out you don’t know the entire club to talk to or be introduced to unfamiliar parties, girls and guys stick in their packs, one member occasionally straying over to another group if they have had one vodka too many.
Then along came Tinder, and Londoners welcomed the socialness of being single, it was great. After you get over the initial scariness of dating, a few shockers will certainly help that reference date posts 1, 2, 3 for further detail, it becomes second nature and although it seemed the Tinder men weren’t what they said on the tin and often a swift exit was made…it made for great entertainment the following day amongst colleagues and friends. I was a whore of the 'one date' world.
Which brings me back to number 5 and why he took me by surprise -Tinder no.5 and real life no.5 actually tallied up. I loved his company and had such fun when I was with him but there was one problem, he had demonstrated the potentially to be socially awkward which to me was a deal breaker. It is of upmost importance to me that my boyfriend metaphorically speaking, as we girls do, would get along with my friends, my family and could walk into a room of the unknown and be able to hold their own. It was strange because the number 5 I spoke to over Tinder & text seemed like that man but in person he was a lot more reserved.
So I replied to his email and not in so many words indicated door 3- following that I received no reply, only radio silence for nearly a week, and on day three I realised that it actually bothered me that I hadn’t heard from him. Other tinder dates were still looming in the background but I was no longer interested in them, number 5 had now got my full attention…but he was nowhere to be seen. Then a week later after radio silence, I received this…
(I am not the "jilted blogger" - I sacked him off remember?)
...He asked if I had triple bolted door 3...I told him I left it open... because I like the cold- being an ice queen and all that and there you have it, I popped back through door 3 for ‘the last supper’ and off we went. Simple as that.
Half way through the evening it occurred to me that he was more punchy and much less reserved- suddenly I had met my match and I knew I was in trouble…this is when I started to try.
The following Tuesday I invited him for supper, door 3 was not mentioned again and I was out to impress so I prepared a three course meal…main course Chicken Pie. I decided to jazz up my specialty chicken and mushroom pie with bacon, give it a bit of extra flavour. Off I went creating my masterpiece adding the ingredients together, cooking up a storm, what could go wrong?
Ta daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Here is my pie, not bad hey…until you ate it.
On the plate, it looked great. In your mouth? Closely resembled gargling sea water.
What I hadn’t taken into consideration- Smoked bacon is smokey a.k.a salty. So adding sodding salt as per the ingredients, on top of my smokey bacons bit became a recipe for disaster.
This was shocker number 1 and from here the more I let my guard down….the faster I went downhill.
