Now we all know the drill, I was dumped after five years out of the blew blah-blah-blah it’s all in the first blog. So you can only imagine how absolutely shitting it I was to go on the first of first dates. For me, there was nothing more nerve-wracking than going on a first date after being off the scene for five years. The dating scene most defiantly evolved, sure amn’t I only talking to lads I don’t even know exist yet. I’m a blank canvas starting from scratch. Everything I used to know about “He-who-shall-not-be-named”, what he liked, sense of humour, where his tiddles were had to all be put in a box and buried. If only it was that easy then I still occasionally wouldn’t have a break down. But nonetheless, I am getting more and more emotionally stable, said my shrink…jokes. There I was, going about my day with random outbursts of nervous laughter every time I thought of what I was about to do.
Slowly morphing my way into Harley Quinn’s persona.
People must’ve thought I broke out of an asylum. It’s just a few drinks calm the fuck like. Fast-forward to me getting ready. Good luck. Shaving all the hidden places (for the craic), hair failure, eye flick disaster, outfit fab but by the time I got to him I had such serious sweat patches that there was no way my jacket was coming off for any man. I was meeting him at Stephen’s green because I couldn’t possibly be murdered there. My mind was on overload.
“What if they don’t look like their picture?”
“I probably shouldn’t have worn heels”
“Will this be the end?”
“What if I’m not feeling it?”
These were just a few of many personality disordered thoughts that went through my head. As I came to Stephen’s Green to meet my tall, dark and handsome babe I could see him from a far and I was like “Shit.. I can’t do this. Abort abort!” But then we made eye contact and that was that.
F**k
As I towered over him while going in for a hug I knew this wasn’t going to work. 5’10’’ my arse that was clearly a lie. He was more like 5’6’’ and that was me being nice. That, my friend, is strike one. Me playing along but secretly NOT impressed we went to Sinnott’s. As I walked down the stairs bopping to “Wannabe” by the spice girls I made the decision to let myself go and just have fun. I was already dressed might as well make the most of it…and he was paying.
There he was feeding me cocktail after cocktail hoping he’d eventually be feeding me his cock-tail. The chap wouldn’t let me buy one drink, which I wasn’t complaining about, so I kept knocking them back. Keep in mind I’m a lightweight. (Turns out later so was he) Then He went in for a kiss. Seeing as I was already locked, all my rules went out the window and we were both sitting down so I forgot how short he was. Through my beer goggles your man was looking a bit alri until he said he was going out for a smoke (don don don!). I didn’t have to be sober to know that was strike two. Off he went which I thought was the perfect time to go the lady’s room and found myself on the dance floor triggering my inner Beyoncé.
Dancing away with a random group of girls like I knew them my whole life filling them all in about my date. Which reminded me I should get back to. When I got back to our table he did not look happy. Which then followed by the bouncer coming over to kick us out. Now hang on a minute, we’re not going anywhere, we didn’t do anything. Then my date was telling me to come on let’s just go. Now me knowing my drunken rights and having Dutch courage demanded to know why we have to leave. So Long story short “The Hobbit” got sick in the club on the bar. Stoppppp. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry I was mortified. So as we left the club he was ranting drunken apologies at me like I gave a shit because let’s face it this was most defiantly strike three and there is no coming back from a strike three. Now, how to get rid of him…?
“Look I’m not feeling this it was a really bad first impression and I’m just looking for some fun I don’t need all this getting kicked out of clubs business so It’s not going to work”
Did he get the hint? No. He followed me all the way down Grafton street talking to a girl that had already put her foot down. Like no, it’s over.
Now this is where things got random but this actually happened. I wasn’t on drugs (pinky promise). While Walking through the street of drunken people my ears picked up on beautiful music from a B-E-A-utiful busker. As I was listening to him play, your man was still in my ear. After showing I’m a devoted fan and clearly building trust with sexy busker guy he asked me to keep an eye on his guitar so being as drunk as I was didn’t I just start busking myself?! (Now I used to play and lost it when I got in my relationship so this was the first time playing in years) The feeling of freedom was magical I felt like a bit of me came back in that playing. “The Hobbit” Was emptying his pockets into the guitar case. Will he ever learn? After only what could be called a “magnificent” performance, to my ears anyway, my so called date was telling me to come on we’re going. Like who are you again? Please leave me alone to be a rock star. I eventually had to leave sexy busker guy to stop the ultimate married couples tiff from continuing. I was heading straight for Mcdonald’s to go toilet before I made my great escape. When I came back down not only did I have three missed calls from him I also had food. I was full on mixed signals about this guy. One thing for sure he was a stage five clinger. Not wanting to be rude I ate in silence and blocked him out because food was love.
Me: being politely rude
At this stage I’ve never wanted to get a taxi so much in my life. As I was getting in the taxi I could taste freedom. He then thought it was ok to throw a tenner at me and shout I’ll text you tomorrow banging on the window as the taxi drove off. What am I, a prostitute? And no, you’re getting blocked love. To finish off the night I had a good aul’ emotional cry with the taxi man about where I am in my life. Might as well get my money’s worth. It was an awful teaser of what I was getting myself into. It left me thinking…
Are all men like this?
Did I used to have a good thing?
Is there hope for me yet?
Am I ready for this shit?
Should I just give my ex a call?
Surely they can’t get any worse than this…
P.S. Calm down I never made that call.
Until next Monday
Tinderella
X
Tinderella 