It’s A Small World – Full Of Small Men With Short Man Syndrome

We’d actually not met on Tinder (we met on Happn) he was good looking and seemed like an honest guy; ‘We should have a date I can assure you it can’t be as bad as the others’ (all men are liars)

I asked the usual questions, mainly about height (‘are you allowed on the big rollercoasters?’) to which he responded ‘I’m 6ft’ (so you’re barely 5’10.)

There was something about him that looked familiar, but I ignored my initial instincts and carried on chatting about past disastrous dates (one in particular when the guy had said he was 6ft, however arrived in his car – got out of his car and not got any taller)

We exchanged numbers, (I looked him up on Facebook) I realised why he looked familiar (and to my absolute horror discovered the 5ft wonder I’d insulted in my previous message was his brother) we laughed about the coincidence (and then I said the worst line ever – ‘small world’ and didn’t hear from him in 24 hours as he probably thought this was a dig at his hobbit sibling)

A couple of days later we decided to meet up on a date, he tried to cancel (numerous times, ‘I’m worried you might die as I have a stalker’) but I pursued (‘I don’t care, Sunday?’)

He called to let me know he was downstairs, and we did the usual meet and greet (yep, 5’10 ) and went for a drink at the restaurant down my road (I had a normal drink, he had a fizzy water) He immediately started chatting about fitness (I said I cancelled my gym membership after a month, I vomit after a 100 metre sprint – fitness isn’t my thing) and he continued to talk about fitness (for an hour).

I tried to join in when he mentioned playing polo and told him my favourite polo player was Nick Bateman (Note: Nick Bateman is a model who once posed with a horse – he is not a polo player)

Unfortunately (typically) the date continued to get worse as he commented on my choice of outfit (‘are you wearing a bra?’) I was quite taken aback by his forwardness (ignorance) then he went on my Facebook pictures (bringing to attention that I have large breasts by pointing at each photo saying ‘boobs’) I mentioned his brother had been less forthcoming (‘how did he not bring up your tits?!’) – ‘I’m alot more honest (most would say rude) than my brother’. Everyone’s different (some people are just total bellends).

He asked me about my housemates (then began stalking them on Facebook. I can see you zooming in on my housemate doing a yoga stand, please stop) then popped to the toilet (for twenty minutes, probably having a jostle over yoga stand)


He returned and began with a new conversation (or concept) ‘I am the perfect gent (really?) I would never let a girl pay’ (alright, calm down with your fizzy water) and his amazement at the type of girl (one night stands) you meet on tinder (‘I invite girls over on a Sunday night whose parents would definitely be friends with my parents’; I give you the 21st century Mr.Darcy) 

He continued and gave me (I didn’t request it) a one on one account of a memorable first date (he had been having sex, mid way through gone floppy – then to prove a point in the morning he had pummelled her so hard with his penis she had cried) we laughed (the date came to an immediate end)

He called over the waiter to get the bill (‘and bring the card machine – let’s speed this up’) and left me with his final observation of the evening (‘your arse isn’t that bad, considering you don’t squat’) and I with mine (‘wear platforms on your next date’).



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