#terrible first date

[qqkatie]

Terrible first date

[get-the-g-blog]

Tinder nightmares

I’ve been sick this week so there hasn’t been much debauchery going on from my end so lets have a little chat about Tinder shall we?! Or Happn, Bumble, Grindr, whatever you’re into. I’m all for any dating app really, if people want to use it go for it! Find the love of your life. Or the lay of your life. Take charge! I however, am old school, I like to meet my prey in the wild...like at my favourite bar down the road which luckily resembles a zoo on a good night.

That’s not to say I haven’t dabbled before...I’ve logged on from time to time. Generally for some mild entertainment when I’m bored, but my attention span for it lasts about 5 minutes before it gets deleted all over again. 

I am, however, more inclined to use it whilst in Paris...to improve my french. Yea fucking right you’re all saying...but seriously, I use it to talk/type to poor unsuspecting French people that I’m never going to meet so my french gets better.

Last year I actually went out on a limb and met one of my unassuming “french teachers”. It was just after fashion week and it seemed everyone had exited Paris except me. I had been talking to this guy V for a bit and although I wasn’t really attracted to him, he seemed like a super interesting dude. We were in a similar industry, he’d travelled the world doing a bunch of odd jobs and we had a couple of mutual friends. V asked if i’d like to come to an exhibition opening of his old boss and then to a gig...the wife of his new boss. It sounded very casual and not like like it was going to be an intimate one on one affair so I thought fuck it, why not. 

The exhibition was super cool and although my non-attraction was confirmed, he really was an interesting character and I thought ‘hey, maybe we could just be friends’. I love meeting new people anyway so it’s not that much of a stretch right?!

After the exhibition wound down we went over to the gig and after about 10 minutes I realised V must have been drinking a little more of the ‘kool aid’ than I had... if you catch my drift. 

I was talking to his work mate S when V wobbled over and out of nowhere turned to S and said “are you hitting on my girlllll?!”. I was mortified. Because

1. Just because S is a lesbian does not mean she chats up everyone with a vagina...she’s your work colleague for gods sake

2. I sure as hell ain’t ‘your girl’

We’d been there for about 30 minutes, the gig still hadn’t started and I’d had a couple of other awkward encounters with some of V’s mates who’d arrived, but I was determined to see the show.

We all headed to a side room to sit and chill until she finally took to the stage. I wasn’t even feeling buzzed at this point but V was hitting another level. Mid conversation, he suddenly shot up from the couch screaming, “I’ve lost my phone, I’ve lost my phone!”, ran around the tiny room looking for it before shooting out into the labyrinth of the club to continue his search. His outburst was quite manic tbh and I was a little taken aback...even more so when I looked down to where he’d been sitting and saw his phone slightly to the side.

I decided it was probably time to bounce so I took the phone and tried to find him. When I had no luck I headed back to the room to see if he was back there or to just give it to his friends and shimmy on home.

Within 2 seconds of entering the room V was in my face excited AF that i’d found his phone and as a ‘thank you’ he shoved his tongue down my throat and went in for a full blown pash, inclusive of teeth licking. Yes, you just read that right. He. Licked. My. Teeth. I know everyone has their quirks and fetishes but this was a new one for me...I wasn’t into it.

I pulled away from him and blurted out “did you just lick my teeth?!” I could have maybe, maybe put aside the free flossing by tongue but his response was really the nail in the coffin.

Instead of owning his freaky fetish like a man, he crumbled under my questioning and said “oh my god, do you not like it?! Because if you don’t like it, I can totally change. I can do it however you want. I can change.” Not sexy.

And it just got worse from there. I tried to leave again but when I said he wasn’t coming with me he threw his arms across his chest, flung his back against the wall and pouted repeatedly “you just don’t like me!”. Head hung low and all. He also threw in “I live so far away so if I can’t come home with you I will be sleeping on the streets!”. You know, just for good measure, maybe that’d make me change my mind.

I’m not sure exactly why I didn’t just walk off and leave him there. Probably that side of us ladies that wants to me nice, liked and to avoid hurting peoples feelings. So instead I waited until we got a hold of his friends and then made a run for it.

Alas, I saw no gig that night, he was enough of a show. It did put me right off Tinder though, I’ve even found a new way of improving my french.

x

[nev3r-trust-a-duck]

So I had a ‘date’ with this guy tonight at Starbucks and when he showed up his brother and their female friend were with him and we talked for a little but he ignored me for about 75% of the night and spent the time talking to his brother and the friend and messing with his motorcycle. This is why I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a crazy cat lady some day. 

[entertainingdisaster]

First one is on the books.

First Tinder date, that is.  And I should have swiped left.

I could be really cold and snarky and list all the reasons why I should have swiped left.  Instead, I’ll just give you a couple highlights.

He had an accent, and one I could not place.  Seeing as I’ve spent a good portion of this weekend reading “Outlander,” I was hoping it was from someplace like Scotland.  (Had a bit of a British Isles feel to it, or so I thought.) But nope!  He’s from Nowhereseville, North Carolina.  You know, one of those towns were just about everyone who lives there works in the same textile factory.  So our backgrounds are a bit different, to say the least.

We met up at 7:45 for drinks.  It sounded like he was a bit hungover from the night before.  (Country boy is still learning how to drink in the city!)

He outright said that his mother keeps wondering when she’ll get some grandkids out of him, too.

. . . and those are just a couple of the highlights.

So.  Yes.  First Tinder date down.  So terrible, but got some good laughs out of it.  Got home and opened up Tinder and responded to a slew of men.

This whole Tinder thing is pretty hilarious.  And I’ve only been on it for approximately seventy-four hours.

[vamchoir-blog]

Watch the film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfPcfQ-NHi0&feature=youtu.be

[likepine]

If I ask you not to give me a hickey, don't give me one. It's easy.

[zoeythekat]

First Date gone oh so wrong

Karla Jenkins was ecstatic when Jonathan Rogers, the coolest dude in the tenth grade, asked her to the city fair. Like many a sixteen girl, Karla Jenkins was convinced that an oddly proportioned boy with un-managed blonde hair, narrow hips, and a slightly crooked nose was attractive because the rest of the sophomore class was also convinced that he was attractive. I only tell you this because it isn’t the moral of the story, but it’s important for you to know. Most popular guys aren’t attractive. Just a lot of other people think they are, so you get confused. 

Okay, back to the story.

Finally, the day of the city fair arrived. Jonathan Rogers showed up at Karla’s house at 7:30 sharp, exactly four and half hours after he agreed to pick her up. While waiting for him, she had redone her hair twice, read an entire novel, bought $65.00 worth of makeup for $16.75 online, and reapplied her lipstick twenty-seven times. Her mother, exhausted, begged her to just give up and go to the 6:00 showing of some super hero movie with her parents and five younger brothers. But Karla was relentless. And it paid off, I guess, because at 7:30 Jonathan Rogers showed up. 

Karla Jenkins wore a red dress, tight across her chest that flared out at her hips and hung down to her knees. Her hair was neatly twisted into a fishtail braid. She wore nude lipstick and coal eyeliner. By contrast, Jonathan Rogers showed up in baggy sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Yet, for some strange reason, Karla excitedly slipped into the passenger seat of his car instead of saying, “Oh hell no,” and going to get frozen yogurt with her best friend. 

The fair was a downright disaster. Jonathan had obtained his older brother’s  I.D. and immediately met up with a group of friends at the beer tent. 

"Don’t you want to, I don’t know, play skee-ball or ride the ferris wheel or something?" Karla suggested as Jonathan began guzzling his second mug of beer.

"Yeah, sure, I guess," he muttered. "Just let me finish another drink." He and his buddies were talking and laughing about things that didn’t really need to be talked about and weren’t really funny.

Karla was uncomfortable. Then she was annoyed. Then she was angry. She had put on this nice dress, fixed her hair, and put layer upon layer of lipstick on her lips. Then, she’d waited for four hours for a poorly dressed loser with the inability to brush his hair to show up. For the only reward to be sitting on a sticky bench in a humid tent watching a hoard of sixteen year old boys boozing themselves into insanity. 

So she left. Her first date with Jonathan Rogers would be here last. Good riddance. 

Right outside the beer tent, she ran into another sixteen year old girl, Lacey Lang. Lacey was around six inches shorter than Karla. Her entire head was coated in rainbow colored curls. She wore bright pink lipstick, a teal dress, and a silver locket. 

"Are you all right?" Lacey asked. "You look a bit… upset."

"Yeah, just on a terrible first date," Karla sighed.

"Oh. Are you ditching it?"

"Yeah."

So Lacey and Karla spent the rest of the evening playing skee-ball and riding the ferris wheel. Lacey, who had impeccable aim, won them each giant Care Bears at that game where you throw darts at balloons. Karla, who had some pent up frustration, shot water at a target with such fervor that she was able to score them each plastic horses. They got matching henna tattoos over their collarbones. They ate cotton candy and got ridiculous caricatures drawn. 

When Karla arrived home that evening, her mother asked her if she had a nice time on her date. Without hesitation, she responded, “I had the best time.” As she fell asleep that night, her thoughts never once returned to the horrible part of the evening when she was on the date that she had agreed to go on. So this is the real moral of the story: if you have to decide between hanging out with a sloppy drunk guy or a cute girl with rainbow hair? Pick the cute girl with rainbow hair.