I have had a weird couple of months. I mean, I have had a really weird couple of months. I decided to go on a few first dates, and most of them didn’t work out.
Okay, I only had 4, and 3 of them didn’t lead to second dates. Let’s not think I’ve had 100. A girl doesn’t have that much effort or time to date that many people at once.
First dates will always be awkward, for the first 5, maybe 10 minutes. Not for around 4 hours. 4 hours of politely rejecting, hearing their life story and feeling like I was there for one purpose. By the end of it, I was waiting for a tram to run me over.
Disclaimer, before I get started, that I will never mention anyone’s name on my blog, never discuss who they are or anything like that. I respect their privacy.
So, the first date from (what I believe) may be my own personal hell. And no, I am not exaggerating this one.
For the purpose of this post, let’s refer to the subject as… Fernando.
I met Fernando on a well known dating app, with an open mind about what this person could be like. There was a few warning signs, but being the person I am, I decided to ignore such warning signs. Fernando seemed a cool guy, seemed pretty normal. However, he had a tendency to drop off the radar for a few days and then come back as it nothing had happened. Why do you do this to me, Fernando?
Fernando tended to disappear at weekends and then re-appear. I always wondered how someone could disappear for a few days and not drop one text. I know that people have a life, and can’t be on their phone 24/7, and so I let it slide. Maybe the universe was really trying to stop me from making this mistake, but you learn from these mistakes… or at least, I hope.
Don’t get me wrong, Fernando seemed charming and asked about my day, and was interested in me. He asked me on a date not long into us conveying, and I left him waiting for exactly 20 minutes before I replied that I guess we could go on a date. Little did I know, the actual date would make me feel like I’d been out to a nightclub and harassed for half the night, and not on a first date.
We arranged a date, and I was expecting him to text me with details at some point on that day, but, why did I expect such things from Fernando? Fernando already mentioned he was a spontaneous guy. Spontaneity isn’t exactly what I thought of when he decided to ghost me. Was I stood up when I didn’t even know what time or where to actually stand and meet him?
I found the whole ordeal of him ghosting just plain weird and unusual. Fernando had well and truly left my life, in proper ghosting style… or so I thought. Fernando obviously liked to play hard to get, so hard to get that he ghosted me before a first date, and then texted me around 3 days later.
I didn’t necessarily know if I wanted a date with Fernando after he’d ghosted me and left me wondering what I’d done wrong. Truthfully, I wasn’t actually that arsed. Fernando wasn’t worth that date.
He said he’d had a weird weekend (so weird you couldn’t text me, and left me on read, Fernando?) and apologised for the whole thing. Right, looking back on this whole thing, through this whole blog post, I should have blocked him after the first ghosting. Nando was playing some weird game, and I was apparently willing to go along with it.
I gave him the cold shoulder, told him he should have messaged me, saved him as 3 ghost emojis in my phone… but then continued to text back. Maybe I was bored, maybe I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe I kind of liked him and thought hey let’s try this… who bloody knows. Nando told me he liked prosecco, he seemed to be out every weekend, and had his last seen turned off on Whatsapp… I didn’t think I could trust him with that last one.
I played cold with him for a bit and tried to figure out if I could be bothered spending time on him. He seemed to be making an effort. I thought awwww he’s realised his mistake, he’s trying to make up for it… Wrong. so. damn. wrong.
We talked for a while, again, he tried to make more conversation. He texted me whether I was out one night at around half ten… Nando was trying to booty call me, and this was the guy who said he never drunk texted. He waited a while until he struck again, but his way of asking me out was weird.
Nando: Are you free next week? I wanna go out… thinking Monday or Tuesday?
Nando wasn’t exactly spelling out how he wanted to see me as a person. Was this an actual date or was this him wanting to get smashed around a few bars? I was inclined to wiggle my way out of it if it involved heavy amounts of drinking, I knew that drunk me could be a real arsehole if I wanted to be.
Fernando was really skipping around the asking me out concept here… I’d managed to forget the ghosting issue, but I couldn’t let him just ask me out in a semi can’t be arsed manner. No, Fernando, I would not stand for this.
He asked me out for drinks (not for a drink) and so I jokingly said no (ha, why did I agree?) but then felt bad so said of course I’d see him.
The day of the date, he was working, so said he’d meet me at around quarter past 5. I said I could get into Manchester for half 5. My train was delayed by half an hour, and he said he was waiting for me outside the station. I had these fears Nando might be a serial killer, ready to lead me off into some back alley and sell my organs. Maybe that’s why he disappeared on weekends. I couldn’t see him when I walked out the station… had he actually stood me up this time?
I spotted him and we had an awkward greeting, but then he proceeded to talk my ear off. Nando liked going out all the time, Nando had a good excuse for ghosting me (it was a 4/10 excuse, Nando). We went to a bar in Spinningfields, and sat outside. He asked me what I’d been doing the day before and why I’d been so mysterious.
Did I tell him I’d actually been with someone else, and look like a massive player? Of course I did. I told him I’d been seeing someone the night before but we were done now (ladies and gents, it wasn’t done, but that’s another chapter, and it’s as exciting as it sounds).
The first conversation involved him asking about this previous guy, where he’d taken me on dates, what happened between us, who he was, what his national insurance number was, where he could find him… He was fairly obsessed with bettering anyone I’d ever been on a date with. Why didn’t we just phone him and he could have a conversation with him?
Nando then proceeded to explain why he’d ghosted me the first time and I tried to look okay with the whole thing, but I think he lost me 20 minutes into his story. He asked me about my previous relationship, wow, we were getting this deep on a first date? I’d need some more gin to deal with this, and his talk about his ex, and the fact I also knew of one of his friends.
Truthfully, I felt like I was out drinking with the lads rather than on a first date. He drank his pint fairly quickly, and told me I was a slow drinker. I didn’t know we were on a binge drinking night. I would have pre drank if I’d have known. Fernando looked at me as if to finish my drink. I finished my drink.
The next hours consisted of him telling me about his life, quizzing me on previous guys I’d dated and my blog. I confronted him about his last seen being off, he looked at me shocked and said how did he even turn it on. Clearly, he did know how to turn it on, because since it has been turned off…
He consistently told me I was sassy, and that I said what I wanted to. Yes, Fernando, us women tend to have mouths that we speak with, but my words were to good to waste on him. I instead rolled my eyes numerous times, and wondered when this date would end. We went to four bars in total, and had quite a bit to drink. I didn’t think being drunk on a first date was a great idea, but Nando told me he wanted to get me drunk… oh dear lord, why did I not run at that point?
Charm was clearly his forte when he looked at me and muttered ‘I don’t know if you piss me off, or I like you’… great, I see that things are going well here.
We were at the second to last bar when he tried to kiss me. I almost fell off my chair because I was moving so far back to get away from him. He sulked off and told me he was running away after that rejection (please do, please).
I’d hoped the kissing thing was behind us, but I found myself constantly swerving a kiss I just wasn’t feeling. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine… no, it was his fault. I did not want any kind of kiss from him, I didn’t owe him a kiss. He kept on telling me I was teasing him, I told him it wasn’t teasing. Maybe it was too subtle, but I was still worried he was going to kill me and sell my organs on the black market.
I checked train times, so I could get out of this train wreck of a date, and we left to go to the station. This was the point I cracked. He stopped me to try and kiss me, again, and I was more worried about catching my train home. I finally pecked him on the lips, but he wasn’t happy with that. I have never been a fan of tongues, but apparently he was. I pulled away after 30 seconds and physically dragged him half way to the station.
Why did I feel completely insulted, harassed and irritated from this first date? There had been so many things he’d said that I was ready to boot him to the kerb for. The final blow existed in a comment on how he was always in control, and he liked a girl who thought she was in control. I was ready to vom all over him.
The train ride home consisted of him joking that I was ready to ghost him. I’d already erased his name from my mind, forgotten what he looked like and planned to never talk to him again. I didn’t mind the holding hands, or his arms around me, but of course his slipped his hand far up my thigh. I slapped him away and told him his stop was waiting for him as the train arrived at his destination. He tried to kiss me again, but I told him to leave.
I’d told him to not get me drunk. As soon as we left the station I texted the previous night guy. oH, drunk texts are the best, aren’t they? Fernando sent me a joking text that I was ghosting him, and I said I wasn’t… sorry, I was, but there was no other way to deal with this horrifying situation.
I heard from him the day after, but then he didn’t text again when I didn’t respond. I guess karma really does come back for you, Fernando?