Hi everyone, I hope you’re all well.
Welcome back to my Tinder Diaries, the blog series where I basically have been filling you in on my voyage into the world of online dating. If you haven’t read any of them yet, I’d definitely read them in order so that you know what’s going on.
So, a lot of you have been asking what’s going on with VAT Adam, and I am here to tell you all.
We went on a third date to a country pub one Thursday night a couple of weeks ago. Everything had been going well, we’d been texting pretty much non stop and I was beginning to think ‘Ooooh, maybe this is it, maybe VAT Adam is gonna end up being my boyfriend and we will holiday in Cannes this year and laugh over the memories of our first date and of me choking on a lamb bone!’. Well, how wrong I was.
He picked me up from home for the date, and the second I got in his car, the full function of my lungs went down to about 32% due to the fact he must’ve bathed in Paco Rabanne. It was sweet (the gesture, not the overwhelming scent of Invictus), and obviously better than him smelling of manure (I don’t know why he would, he doesn’t work on a farm or anything), but on a brisk February evening, having to stick my head out the window whilst on the dual carriageway was not an ideal situation, especially seeing as I’d spent an hour and 45 minutes curling my hair to perfection with my Babyliss tong. WHAT A WASTE OF HAIR PRODUCT. Do you know how much heat protection spray and serum costs, Ads?
We arrived at the pub, and sat down and ordered our food and drinks. The waiter spilt VAT Adam’s beer over the entire table, and therefore over me too, which was obviously a massively stressful situation due to the 89 layers of fake tan that reside on my skin at any given time, and Peroni is not a good mix with St Tropez.
Whilst we were waiting for our food, I told VAT Adam that I wanted to go to New York in May, to do some shopping and also to get some good travel content for my blog. He paused for a second, and then announced that it was SO funny I should say that, but with his new AMEX card he actually got a free flight to specifically New York with it…wasn’t that such a strange coincidence, and when was I planning on going again?
During his trip to the toilet, a quick Google search told me that actually, his AMEX card got him some free air miles and access to airport lounges, not a free flight to New York. Was this VAT Adam’s way of essentially telling me he was very much interested in me, so much so that he wanted to make the 3,465 mile trip across the Atlantic, just to spend 5 days waiting impatiently outside Sephora for me, and holding my hair back as I upchucked $20 cocktails in roof top bars? It seemed like it was. Either that, or due to my past behaviour (getting steaming drunk on the first date and acting like we were honeymooning in Barbados on a private beach), he was very interested in the opportunity of spending the best part of a week in a hotel with me. I mean, if my previous behaviour was anything to go by, he was probably expecting a professional-level lap dance and Burlesque tribute act by the fourth date.
The rest of the date went surprisingly well, despite the elephant in the room which was VAT Adam’s fake return flight to New York, and he drove me home after. He text me the next morning and asked to see me Sunday, which I agreed to, and was beginning to think that maybe a jaunt to New York was on the cards. Maybe I could finally have that much sought after picture of me and my beau ice skating hand in hand in Central Park. Maybe finally life wasn’t dealing me a shit hand of cards and I could swan around the streets of Manhattan with an actual BOYFRIEND?
Anyway…the morning I’m due to meet him, I’m flicking through Instagram (my personal one, not my Brighton Girl one…my personal one holds all the good shit, e.g. people I hate) stalking ex boyfriends, my friends ex boyfriends, my ex boyfriends families and a boy I met in Kavos when I was 18 (I was pleased to find he has a shockingly bad receding hair line), and of course, VAT Adam…I go on his ‘Following’ section to have a nosy, and I’m shocked to see that we seem to follow a lot of the same people.
Now, VAT Adam is in his 30’s and a fair bit older than me. We have entirely different friendship groups, come from very different parts of Brighton, did not go to the same schools, colleges, have not worked at any of the same places…so I’m a bit confused. He seems to be following a hell of a lot of girls my age, and younger…surely he can’t know all of them? Unless he’s running some kind of rehabilitation centre for girls who love fake tan too much, or a convent for women who have entirely given up on the male race, then it’s seriously odd that our Following section is entirely the same…
I start clicking through the girls profiles, and find he’s liked every single one of their pictures. Every. Single. One.
I am really getting into some in depth stalking now, and I find that he is literally only following women (around 3000 of them), and has liked and commented on every single selfie, outfit picture, and bikini/lingerie shot. Any photo of them with a boyfriend, or of their pet, or their dinner, he hasn’t liked. Apparently fiances and roast dinners aren’t his forte, but rather any image that contains a low cut top and a pout. The second there’s a flash of cleavage, it’s like central, with accompanying comments such as ‘Stunning hun x’ (HUN – FOR FUCK SAKE ADAM. NOT ONLY ARE YOU BEHAVING LIKE AN ONLINE PREDATOR BUT YOU’RE ACTUALLY USING THE WORD HUN. FFS.)
After further investigation, I find he follows actual pornographic Instagram accounts, which are full of images of bleached, hairless arseholes and twerking women with perfect, pert, DD boobs bouncing about. Ads, I’m not an idiot, and I know what men look at…but is it really necessary for me to know just how much you’re enjoying seeing Amber in nothing but a PVC crotchless thong bodysuit?
Celebrities, reality TV stars, bloggers, YouTubers, your next door neighbour – it does not matter who you are, as long as you’ve got a pair of tits, VAT Adam is gonna let you know how much he likes them.
I’m not an idiot and I know that men are going to like girls pictures, and comment on them from time to time…but to be doing it to every single female you can find…well, 1) I think it’s weird and 2) It’s a bit of a kick in the teeth after he said he couldn’t wait to show me the Maldives, but actually he’d rather have seen a pornstars nipples.
Also, I am not for one second shaming selfies, or getting your boobs out, or your perfectly bleached, hairless arsehole for that matter…I am a complete and utter narcissist when it comes to selfies, and if I can hoik my 32b’s up enough to look half decent in a photo, I’m gonna let the world see it. It’s going on Instagram, Facebook, Whatsapp…fuck, I’m even gonna post it to my ex’s.
Anyway, VAT Adam text me the next day asking how I was (not very good to be honest, after last nights discoveries), and I didn’t reply. I’d been violated enough by seeing more of a Swedish womans arsehole than I ever wanted to again to be quite honest with you, and it was all because of him.
VAT Adam never tried to message me again, to this day. It seems the tales of return flights with Norwegian, beach holidays, and bringing me along to the next night out with his friends were nothing but a tale he spun to me and 85% of the female population of the UK (to be fair, some of the twerking videos seemed to be German women, so he’s been quite exotic and European in his tastes…continental, I’m impressed.)
I didn’t feel upset, because we’d been on 3 dates and I’m a bit emotionally repressed at the moment due to the fact situations like this ALWAYS HAPPEN, but I was a tad bit disappointed that VAT Adam had turned out to be full of shit. We’d gone on these fun dates, and then the second he’d got home he was being trigger happy on Instagram and commenting on half of Sussex’s populations photos to tell them how amazing they looked.
So yeah; there we have it. Sucked in by the camaraderie and jovial humour, and the Tuesday night phone calls, it appeared that VAT Adam was not the man for me, as he seemed to be not much of a One Woman Man.
I am not disheartened though; it provided some entertainment for all of you, a few good nights out for me, and a near death experience.
It has, however, taught me a few things…
- Don’t drink prosecco on first dates. It turns you into a freak.
- Don’t order anything that contains a bone. You will be too enthralled by the candelit atmosphere and Smooth FM playing in the background, and you will choke.
- Do not tell them that you have a blog where you’re recording everything that happens between the two of you…they will probably find it, and it will result in some strongly worded text messages.
I hope you enjoyed hearing about VAT Adam, and I will be back bringing you more Tinder Diaries tales as soon as I have them.
All my love BGP xx