The Tinder Diaries 2 | First Date Fears

Hi everyone!

I hope you’re well.

Here is the second installment of my Tinder Diaries, where I’m recounting my first experiences of the weird and not so wonderful world of Tinder. If you haven’t read the first post, it’s on my blog so go have a read, as this is a follow up, and it’s all about Adam, 32, and our first date.

Now, perhaps I didn’t actually start off as you should do before a first date; by that, I mean I’d already sunk 3 full glasses of prosecco before I even arrived at the bar we were due to meet in.

The first date nerves had fully gotten the better of me; the last time I went on a first date was that extremely below average one I’d told you about in the last post after my very brief stint on Tinder, and my one before that was 2014 with my ex ex boyfriend…my last boyfriend, we’d known each other for years anyway so when we did actually go for dinner it didn’t really feel like a ‘first date’ as such, because we’d already gone out for drinks and nights out in groups and seen each other loads anyway. So yeah, the last time I actually went on a first date was a pretty long time ago and I was not okay hun.

The thing is, I don’t want a boyfriend or a serious relationship right now, so my nerves weren’t really in a ‘I really hope he likes me and it goes well!’ kind of way…it was more in a way of ‘Oh god, what if it’s really awkward, what if he’s a weirdo, what if in the bar we are in I see every single person I’ve ever known and I have to introduce him as someone I don’t actually know and haven’t met before’. Every single possible shit outcome was circling my head, and I was SHITTING IT.

I Facetimed one of my best friends whilst getting ready and called another in the taxi on the way, and despite the reassurances and best luck wishes, by the time I’d set foot in the bar, I was about ready to pass out, and was extremely tempted to just turn back and go home to be honest. Who needs a date anyway? Netflix and a bottle of wine, by myself, please.

He was already there when I arrived, and I went up to the table basically shouting ‘HI’ in his face. He stood up and we hugged, and I just sat there thinking ‘WHAT THE FUCK DO I SAY TO THIS COMPLETE AND UTTER STRANGER.’ Thankfully, he immediately asked what I’d like to drink and went off to go and get them. I then sat there thinking ‘Oh shit, I didn’t even offer to pay or anything, I bet he thinks I’m a right entitled little cow now’.

When he’d stood up, I’d noticed his jacket hanging on his chair and thought I DO NOT LIKE THIS JACKET. Yes, I may seem a bit judgey, but I immediately took a dislike to it and it was all I could suddenly concentrate on.

He came back with our drinks, I thanked him, and then we got stuck into conversation.

Adam has his shit together. He has a successful business and owns property; I didn’t know how to casually mention that I sometimes (regularly) eat Coco Pops for dinner, and my investment portfolio is made up of Charlotte Tilbury lipsticks.
I tried to explain to him what I do and what a blog is. I was unsure how to word ‘I write about how to get over your ex and what moisturiser is best for sensitive skin’. He asked all the right questions, and asked me what it’s called…I mumbled something incomprehensible and then started talking heatedly about the amount of ice used in cocktails. Adam must never know what my blog is called, because then he will learn a lot more about my makeup routine than I’d like, or worse, read this blog post.
Whilst talking about his business, Adam asks me if I know what VAT is. I stare at him incredulously. I have just been telling him about filing my tax return. How the fuck would I be filing a tax return if I didn’t know what VAT was, Adam?
For a moment I wonder whether to play along and tell him that no, I don’t know what VAT is, the only words that ignite recognition in my brain are ‘lipstick’ and ‘glitter’. With an icy look, I confirm that yes I do. His face colours slightly and he apologises.
I want to start dropping facts about the French Revolution because clearly my lash extensions and gel nails are giving off some kind of pretense that I barely even know my own postcode, let alone what Value Added Tax might be.

I feel a bit riled up inside, because my entire adult life I’ve had to deal with fuckwits (mainly men), thinking that because I enjoy a smoky eye as much as the next person, and get a regular spray tan, that it somehow equates to me having absolutely 0 brain cells. To be fair to Adam, I don’t think he meant it like that; he was in the midst of telling me about his own tax return (wow, thrilling first date conversation), and seemed to be checking that we were on the same page. Even so, my back is up, and that is not good for Adam.

He goes to get us another drink, and refuses my offer to pay…by this point, I’m on my 2nd drink of the date, and that brings my running total of the day up to 4 proseccos and a vodka cocktail. It’s not necessarily that I feel ‘drunk’, but I’m well aware that my first date etiquette is slipping, and if anymore VAT comments get slung about, I could struggle to bite my tongue.

After the 2nd drink, we go to another bar…I’m very confused at myself here, because I seem to…want to go to another bar with him. In this bar, he pisses me off so much less, in fact, he doesn’t even piss me off at all, to be honest. We share childhood stories, hospital visits, family histories and I actually laugh with him. What the fuck is going on? VAT Adam is making me laugh, and not a kind of ‘hahaha I’m going to punch you in a minute you arrogant arsehole’ kind of way.

Again, he is insistent on paying, however when he goes to the toilet I tell him that I am buying a round for us now, because as lovely as it is to be treated, I’m aware the bars we are going to aren’t exactly cheap and I don’t want to send VAT Adam’s business into liquidation.

We then head to a 3rd bar…this has gone from a date to some kind of odd drinking session, and I am feeling pretty worse for wear at this point, but I’m having fun and don’t particularly want to go home until all the takeaways close, because if I get home when JustEat is still available for orders, I will end up eating a lot of food, probably about 8 days worth of calories.

Now, my behaviour in this establishment becomes, only what I can describe as, STRANGE. I don’t know what comes over me, but the immense irritation I felt towards VAT Adam in the 1st bar, has transpired into some kind of odd attraction…which, I suppose, is the reason why I decide to start kissing him…repeatedly. I basically decide to start acting like VAT Adam, who let’s not forget I met for the first time about 4 hours ago, is my long term boyfriend.

He doesn’t seem to be unhappy with the situation, he actually appears to be enjoying it, but after about an hour of acting like we are celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary, I decide that needs must, and I must depart. I must depart very, very quickly, into a cab, to the safety of my own home, and own bed (definitely not VAT Adam’s home or bed), to down a pint of water, and sleep for a very long time. A long enough time for, perhaps, VAT Adam’s business to have sky rocketed, and for him to have moved the head offices to Australia, and also have emigrated there and forgotten about Crazy Tinder Girl who decided to snog him a multitude of times whilst telling him how she COULDN’T BELIEVE SHE WAS GETTING ALONG SO WELL WITH SOMEONE ON A FIRST DATE and DIDN’T HE FEEL THE SAME?

I wake up in the morning, feeling like I’ve had a sledgehammer to the head, and only able to open half of my right eye. This is partly due to my lash extensions getting stuck, and partly to do with the fact I think I may be dying.

The feeling of potential death is only increased when I remember last nights antics, specifically the antics from bar number 3.

I pick up my phone, squinting at it with my half eye, and with a jolt I realise that VAT Adam has already messaged asking if I’d like to go for lunch today…either he A) Is hoping that last nights behaviour can be repeated over a Sunday Roast and he might get lucky over the Yorkshire puddings and garlic and thyme chicken, or B) He doesn’t care.

I politely decline his request for a lunch date, purely based on the fact that I think if I leave my bed anytime in the next 16 hours that my life will genuinely end. He replies saying not to worry and could he take me out for dinner in the week…I feel like my half eye is deceiving me, but after closer inspection I see that it isn’t…VAT Adam, despite my extremely odd behaviour, has come back for seconds.

I hope you all enjoyed the second update in my Tinder Diaries, and don’t worry, there’s lot more to come, including a second date with VAT Adam, and me going on a date with the WRONG PERSON.

Speak soon!

All my love BGP xx