Bad Date Chronicles #1

We met on Hinge. We hadn’t been talking long when he dropped one of those standard ‘let's skip the small talk and just go for a drink’. I agreed, it was a summer evening and I had nothing to do. I chose a place for us to meet, a pub with an extraordinary beer garden that had become a favourite spot of mine. He had driven for about 40 minutes for the date, saying that if it went well he could get the train home and pick his car up tomorrow, no problem.

I should have known that the date was doomed when I went to the bar and got ID’d. I didn’t have it on me. Luckily I'm the habit of arriving far too early on any dates I go on. I had to ring my mum and get her to drop it down. Which is probably one of the least chic things you can possibly do on a date. All mystic was gone as he walked past me on the way to the pub sitting on a wall waiting for my mum. I kept my head down hoping he wouldn’t recognise me. He did, but was gracious enough to walk past and wait for me inside.

ID secured, I went in and met him. It very quickly transpired that we were not a match. Probably something that we could have mutually worked out if we’d spent just a little more time on the app with each other. The chat was stilted and awkward. Nothing offensive or upsetting was discussed but also I don’t think either of us so much as chuckled.

I realised that I had two options: stay, have more drinks, part ways and never talk again or leave now. The latter option was not something I would have considered earlier in my dating life (loathe to call it a 'dating life', but slightly less loathsome than a 'dating career'). I used to think that I absolutely must see things to their logical conclusion. I acted decisively, deciding the logical conclusion was actually as soon as possible. I drained my pint, put the glass down and stood up. ‘Right, I’m going to head off’ I said, and turned to walk off. ‘Oh right, where are the toilets?’ he replied. I pointed them out and left, called a friend on the way home and relished the time that it felt like I’d made myself.

I didn’t think of him again. Until a summer later. The restaurant I was working in closed for ten days and I was offered three days work at a restaurant around the corner. I walked in on my first day, nervous as you like and there he is. The only other waiter in there who I’d be working pretty closely with for the duration. Excellent.

As luck would have it, it went pretty well. We briefly addressed the date. ‘I think I know you’ ‘Yeah, think we went for a drink last summer’. The perfect, non-awkward summary of what happened. We had a good time working together and when I picked up his phone by accident I saw he had a girlfriend so he’s clearly a lot better at dating than I am.

Because of this date and the like I now implement a ‘vibe-check’, wherein I insist on a pre-date phone call. I’ve been pretty lucky with dates, never been in danger of anything more severe than boredom and I’ve realised that a five minute phone call can pretty much quell any concerns in that department.