I had a date a couple of weeks ago that was so hideous that I’ve only just been able to write about it. No, seriously. I think it goes down in history as The Worst Date Ever.
A little background. I spotted this guy on a very well known dating site (a free one I should point out) and, very unlike me, made the first move. He sounded interesting and smart and … oh OK OK, yes he had a beard!!! But he seemed interesting and smart too. He replied straight away and it quickly progressed to chatting on the phone. Remember those phone calls that last hours because you just want to talk to each other all the time? It was a little like that, except I had to limit it to an hour because I have a life.
After a few of those phone calls we arranged to meet. He was an engineer (of sorts, I zoned out at that point), an ex-teacher (liked kids, a definite plus) and was close to his family. It was looking good.
We met in my local pub and right from the off I felt there was something ‘not quite right.’ To start with yes he looked like his photo … but had obviously aged ten years in the meantime. He was thinner, older … still had a nice face but he’d definitely bullshitted me about his age. He got the drinks in and pretty much downed his glass of red wine. Now I can drink … years of practice, but I’d never seen anything like it. I put it down to nerves and he got another round in.
He did the same again.
Erm, OK. He must be really nervous. However, I didn’t have time to dwell on it because I was mesmerized by the necklace and PENDANT he was wearing. The whole men wearing jewellery thing doesn’t sit well with me at the best of times but a pendant? That was a first.
He was really interesting though … had a job he loved, kept fit, did a lot for charity. And you know how I know he does a lot for charity? He told me to Google him. Yup. On a first date, I had to Google this guy so that he could show me how much money he’d raised. All very admirable of course … getting your date to Google you however, not so much.
He was also a bit … starey. It wasn’t like he was just coyly checking out how hot I looked *cough*, he was really staring. Like deep down into my depths of my soul staring. Freaked the hell out of me. But the annoying thing was, when he wasn’t being weird, he was actually really nice.
And then he told me he’d lied about his age. No shit Sherlock.
And I totally get it. Hell, as a single woman doing her best to date, it’s really tough being judged for how old you are … but I’ve never lied about my age. My view is that a man either likes me or he doesn’t … if he’s freaked out that I’m 43 then quite frankly he can kiss my beautiful derriere. But it seems that men have ‘age issues’ too.
At least he came clean. I mean it was blatantly obvious he wasn’t 40, but at least he (finally) came clean.
As the date went on I couldn’t quite work out how I felt about this bloke. On paper, and on the phone, we were really suited. We could talk for hours and there was definitely some chemistry.
And then he told me he lived in a B&B.
Righto. Not one to judge … but that really was a curveball because I had presumed he had his own place. And I’m really not materialistic – my friends will attest to that, but Jesus, 46 and living in a B&B, and he’s supposedly working as an engineer? Something just didn’t add up.
At the end of the evening we kissed goodnight and it was good. There was potential there … but there were some alarm bells ringing and I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him again.
I spoke to my best friend the next morning and relayed what had happened and after much discussion, I decided that if he asked, I’d see him one more time just to see if my gut instinct about him being just too weird even for me was true. I felt it was worth a second date.
He text me the next morning and was very complimentary and went on to ask to see me again. I was going out for dinner the following night but suggested he come round for a drink and a chat (he’d already walked me home the night before). I made sure my best friend had all his details (as I do with every date) and I felt comfortable with him coming round. He was a little ‘quirky’ but I certainly didn’t get any serial killer vibes. Which is always good.
He turned up with a bottle of Moet, which I thought was a lovely touch. We sat and chatted on the sofa for about 20 minutes but my gut instinct began to kick in again and I found his behaviour really odd. The starey thing was getting worse and when I looked into his eyes, I noticed his pupils were big. I mean really big. That is NOT a good sign. Whilst the Moet was chilling we shared a bottle of Prosecco and whilst I sipped mine he glugged his. I mean it was only Tesco Finest but come on, show a little respect!
I asked him if he was OK.
He asked me to Google him again.
I said his behavior was a little erratic.
He showed me a scar on his head after being beaten up last year outside a kebab shop.
I told him his pupils were massive and asked if he’d taken anything.
He said he’d only had a couple of drinks before he came round.
He told me he really felt a connection with me and thought I was amazing. And that this could really go somewhere.
I thanked him but said we didn’t really know each other.
He asked me what I thought of him. As in, he wanted details about what it was exactly that I liked about him.
He asked if I wanted him to leave.
I said no but he should just relax a little and we should just get to know each other.
He began rocking back and forth.
He asked if I wanted him to leave.
I said yes.
And when I said yes, I’d like him to leave, you’d have thought I’d just asked for a divorce. He stared straight ahead, shaking his head, repeating ‘I can’t believe it’ over and over again.
This was now officially the worst date I had ever had.
He tried to call a cab but couldn’t focus on his phone enough to dial straight. I asked if he’d like me to get a cab for him and he (thankfully) agreed. I rang my local cab company but couldn’t get a cab for half an hour! All that time I had to sit next to him, hitting redial in the hope that I could get this man out of my house.
I wasn’t worried for my safety but I just wanted him gone – he was really freaking me out. It was just all so odd! He wasn’t drunk but when he came down from the toilet with not only his flies undone, but his shirt too, I realised I’d made a massive mistake in giving this guy a second chance.
I finally found a cab and although the cab company said it would be ten minutes, I told my date it was on its way and he should wait outside. Thankfully he went, but not before asking for his Moet back. Yeah, seriously.
I got it from the fridge and handed it to him, telling him that I couldn’t really give a toss about a bottle of champagne, and then, of course, he apologised and said to keep it. Wow. Thanks.
On leaving he looked at me, as best as he could with his weird, starey, big-pupiled eyes, and said, “We’ll never speak again,” and left.
I ran upstairs to my bedroom to watch him, just to make sure that he really had gone and he was stood outside, stood as still as a statue by my gate. The cab finally came and he got in it and went.
He text me the next day and said: “Sorry for being a stroppy arse.” Umm, OK?
I replied that I wasn’t sure what had happened but that I’d had my fair share of erratic men in my life, I didn’t want another one. He said he understood … then asked for the number of the taxi company as he’d left his wallet in the cab.
I thought that was the last I’d hear from him – I’d had a really lucky escape, but, sure enough, a week later, he messaged me on the dating site and said it was a shame I’d misunderstood him.
I said it was a shame he was into hardcore drugs and blocked him.
And that was that.
He’s still on the site, I checked. I’ve hidden my profile now and have taken another dating sabbatical.
I like to think I’m generally a good judge of character, but even I get it wrong sometimes. REALLY wrong.
Does this qualify for the worst date ever?