Where we met: Tinder
Whilst casually swiping on one of those cold (lonely, I hate my life) Sunday evenings…
…I stumbled across Jack, a Royal Marine:
“Are there any of his face?”
“Well I spose he’s alright… Debbie, did you just super like?”
“Not sure he’s worth that, you only get a few a day.”
“I get unlimited…”
We decided to meet in a bar central on a quieter evening to avoid all the Xmas parties (hindsight: never do this EVER.)
I tried to impress (lie) on the lead up to our date: “I just made a Sunday roast (I didn’t make it, I can barely butter bread) pretty much just demolished a whole cow”.
I’m just a fun loving gal who makes a mean roast..
He liked it (lapped it up): “Wife material!”
On the evening of the date he sent me a picture of him getting ready:
“LAURA LOOK AT THIS ONE!!”
“Again, Debbie – I can literally only see his chin. Are you not worried?”
“In all my photos my breasts take centre stage. He’s just playing to his strengths (maybe you should try it, might actually get a date once in a while…)”
…hope you have the worst time!”
I arrived at the bar (20 minutes late – always good to look completely uninterested. Guys love it). I was worried I wouldn’t even recognise my date from his photos (of his chin and torso) but the bar was completely empty.
I asked the bar staff if they’d seen a Marine: “What does he look like?” –
I messaged my housemate:
“LOL – as if you’ve been stood up?!”
“Well I might not of been – he could be stuck somewhere.”
“What, like down a rabbit hole in central London!? Maybe he saw you and left”
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ll take you out on a date! Please tell me you’re wearing a bra?”