I’d been seeing a guy for a little while; he lived a long way away, so all our dates had been in restaurants and bars. This meant we hadn’t been to each other’s homes, but one night he finally invited me over to his to stay the night.
We went out for a meal first, but he was on his phone for most of it: “Sorry about this, but work’s manic, I’ve got to check my phone”. When we eventually got back to his, he barely said a word to me, just kept looking at his phone.
I couldn’t work out what had gone wrong, and I wanted to leave. Unfortunately, I was too far from home to get public transport back, and I’d had a few glasses of wine, so I couldn’t drive.
I was stuck at his. He clearly didn’t want me there, but there was nothing that could be done.
Continue reading Personal Space
He spent the start of our date complaining about his ex: “She never loved me, she just saw me as a sperm donor!”.
He also spent the middle part of our date complaining about her “I love my daughter, even though my ex just sees me as the man who donated the sperm to make her!”.
By the end of the date: “My ex is a heartless cow! I’m just a sperm donor to her!”, I was wearing a rictus grin & contemplating stabbing myself to death with a spoon.
I kept a tally of how many times he used the phrase “sperm donor”. Nine times. That’s nine times too many.
Another internet date. He emailed me several times beforehand to say how nervous he was. And then the date rolled around:
Me: “Hi, nice to meet you finally. How are you?”
Him: “Still really nervous. This is the first date I’ve been on in twenty years”.
Me: “Well, no worries, we’ve all got to get back in the dating game at some point. When did you and your wife split up?”
Him: “Last month.”
Me: “Oh. Really? Er, OK, but isn’t that a bit soon to be dating, maybe?”
Him: “Well, why not? You never know when you might meet the love of your life! It could be you!”
IT WASN’T ME.