I started venturing into the idea of going to dating events a year ago. It’s a concept which started in the States and mostly for an older crowd, but some have popped up in London in the last couple of years for younger singles.
I went to an Original Dating event, somewhere in Bank with my best friend who too at the time was single. Being the optimist to find ‘ground breaking’ love, I found this 23 – 36 event online and convinced her to come– although when I say ‘convinced’, I mean I booked it for her and dragged her with me. So we turn up, sober, may I add, which is never a good idea – 60 odd strangers in a room, all single, and sober. Just too weird for my liking. So as most of us Brits would, we go to the bar and order a tequila and a glass of wine. The evening is set up as part lock and key party, part speed dating, so the evening began and we spoke to a few nice enough guys, but it was just quite awkward. The women have locks and the men have keys, and it’s a sort of ice breaker to see if the key unlocks the lock. A few hours pass and by this time, having spoken to a few balding 40 year olds, I think to myself, how on earth has my dating life got to this? My friend and I were at the point of like ‘this is crap lets head home’ when a guy started speaking to her. She wasn’t interested, I could tell instantly, but his friend was hot. And also had the signature big nose I apparently go for in men. Instantly we had a spark and chatted about nearly everything. My friend was the best wing woman that night, I think she deserves a medal for that night alone, enduring shit conversation with his friend just so that I could chat to him.
So we left the night exchanging numbers and my friend and I went home. A week later we went on a date in Angel, cute little pub, but I can’t remember the name. But very cute and cosy. Anyway, back to the date, I wasn’t keen on his style but I thought, hmm this is something you can change later on surely and stop being so picky. So he orders a bottle of wine and we get chatting about the usual dat-ey topics, family, career, ambitions, favourite film, how he’d like to make me breakfast the next morning. A bit forward for my liking but anyway. So the date, in my opinion, was going ok. Until he kissed me that is. It was so sloppy and wet and just downright horrible, the epic washing machine as I’d call it. I gave him a few tries to see if he had any other moves, but no, it just continued. Until I just stopped it and made an excuse to head home (it was a week night after all). So over the next couple of days I wondered if he would text me. I wasn’t feeling him but surely thought he was feeling me. But nada. Zilch. Absolute silence like he had disappeared off the face of the earth.
Until 6 months later of course. On my way to work, I get a Whatsapp notification from an unknown number (having deleted it of course). “Hey stranger”. Oh. fuck. off. Why do men do this? Like ALL the time? This disappearing act and then reviving out of the dead with the classic ‘Hey you’ or Hey stranger’. Turns out a few weeks after the date he self-admitted himself into rehab for 6 months for addiction and alcoholism. REHAB. Like what the actual fuck. Is this now the affect I have on men?!