Where we met: Every type of communication available in the 21st Century.
For my fifth date I decided to get in contact with an “old flame.” We’d never met in real life before, but I knew he was interested (from his “I will probably hide you in my basement for a couple of months” behaviour).
Housemate: “Who are you going on a date with now?”
“You know that guy who was stalking me for a bit…? Yeah him.”
“YOU ARE NOT NOT GOING ON A DATE WITH GARY!”
I messaged Gary (I sent a text message – he was blocked on all other forms of communication) asking if he still fancied a date.
“How about Friday afternoon?”
(In daylight hours – with witnesses.)
Housemate: “Where are you meeting him?“ –
“By a bridge somewhere East?”
I got ready and was feeling the usual butterflies before a first date but my housemate was sending messages to help my nerves.
“You’re a fucking idiot. I’m wearing that dress you hate to your funeral”.
I got off at the tube station and checked my phone:
I sent my housemate my location, she likes to make sure I’m safe when meeting dates
“DEBBIE IT’S SAYING YOU’RE IN THE RIVER THAMES?!”
And I approached the bridge and saw a 6’2, muscular male stood by the river.
Step by step I got closer and he turned, our eyes met.
Then in a flash it happened:
He stormed ahead (after a brief handshake) walked straight past his favourite restaurant: “Looks a bit busy in there…
…do you mind if we miss lunch and just grab a coffee” – “Yeah that’s fine”.
“This place is quite popular.”
He got the coffees in and I got our seats (stools, there were no chairs with the afternoon rush from everyone else on lunch breaks… NOT dates). He came over and handed me my mocha and sipped his own but didn’t make much conversation. I (whilst trying to not die internally) took the lead.
“You were pretty keen to meet up with me at the beginning of the year…? (you invited me on a holiday to Prague.)”
“I must have been sad. I broke up with my girlfriend in January.”
“Oh, how long were you toge-“
“Good to meet you.”
“Ok, bye – OH WAIT! you forgot your coff-“
And he was gone.
I messaged Laura to let her know I was safe.
“EVEN MY OWN STALKER DOESN’T FANCY ME!!”
“At least you’re alive.”
“I WOULD RATHER BE DEAD.”
“OH stop being so dramatic, just go home. How long did it take you to get there?”
“AN HOUR AND A HALF TO GO TO A PRET FOR 10 MINUTES LAURA.”