So. Here we are. Newly 18, single and interested in
exploring the dating world a little. As somewhat of an awkward person all my
life, I was keen to meet new people and get out of my comfort zone. In my head,
I had images of going on hikes with boys, having lunch or dinner out, seeing
movies I wouldn’t normally see, scuba diving, snowboarding, sky diving… The sky
was (seemingly) the limit, as my over
the top confidence and self destructive behaviour took hold. At 18, and without
a real serious relationship under my belt, I was excited at the prospect that
someday (someday, maybe – shout out to Gilmore Girls fans for my very subtle
Lauren Graham reference) I would meet someone who I could become invested in,
who would also be invested in me. This, however, is not the tale of how I met
that person. THIS is the tale of the boy who tried to poison me and didn’t even
seem to realize he was doing it.
For those who don’t know me offline (which will likely be the majority of you- hi there!) I am lactose intolerant and have been officially since I was 14 years old. Now, usually when planning a date with a boy, they don’t recommend something dairy intensive (like going out for ice cream or a wine and cheese night at home) but in this case, I had to mention 3 times over message that maybe going out for freakshakes wasn’t the best idea unless he wanted to spend the afternoon holding my hair back while I spewed in the bushes. Could I BE any more obvious? Apparently not. I explained several times and in the simplest terms I could that I was essentially allergic to dairy and that I did not want to put him through the aftermath of me consuming it. English was his first language and he seemed to understand all of what I said the rest of the time – it was just me explaining lactose intolerance that seemed to get lost in translation. I’ve rarely chosen to use Lacteeze or Lacto pills to stop a reaction, as when I have they haven’t worked, but the times I have have been for special occasions – ice cream at places such as Pidapipó, pizza at girl’s night, or the rare occasion I have to go out and don’t want to risk ruining my day with an accidental poisoning (read – school formals and events, work experience, dinner out with family.)
But back to the boy and the date at hand. We organized to go out on a Thursday during the day as we were both off from university and I could squeeze in a quick date before I had to rush off to my part time job. I was finishing up the exams at the end of my semester and was feeling a little run down the day before, but thought I would be able to push through and go on this date – I had the Friday off, after all, and was willing to go out with him to see if maybe he had just been nervous and misread my messages about dairy. But come Wednesday night, I was at the peak of my chest infection and couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, just generally couldn’t function. I messaged him to call it off and was going to offer to reschedule, as I knew it was short notice (it was 9pm on Wednesday and we were due to meet at 9am on Thursday.) but alas the poor soul didn’t see it and showed up to my house to pick me up regardless. I answered the door in my pyjamas only to be greeted by an annoyingly cheery, somewhat goofy, boy who clearly wasn’t very good at reading body language. He invited himself in, and followed me around while I made tea, took my antibiotics and even went to the bathroom (yes, he stood outside the door while I peed. I still cringe even thinking about that.) I let my dog in for company as this boy sat on my couch and laughed at memes on Facebook without really interacting with me. Eventually, after a second cup of tea and another round of him following me round like a lost puppy, I texted a girlfriend from the toilet and asked her to call me and say that my antibiotics were ready to pick up at the chemist. Dutifully, within 5 minutes, I got the call from my friend who – in her best fake chemist voice – confirmed my name and address and then informed me that my antibiotics were ready for collection and that I should come and collect them now so that I could get the maximum dosage in before bed that night. Bingpot.
So this boy left my house, awkwardly kissing me in the ear as we both turned to leave, I did a lap around the block and came home to nap the rest of my day away. He sent me a few more messages on Tinder which I missed because I was sick, but I did eventually read them to find that they went along the lines of this –
Friday – “I’m really keen to get those freakshakes! When can we reschedule?”
Saturday – “Hey, did that send? Let me know when you’re free and we can organize something.”
Sunday – “I don’t know what I did to you to deserve this but I’m sorry L I thought we had a really good connection and was excited to see you again, I guess I’ve just ruined it again…”
I read the messages on the Monday when the fever eventually broke and I was on the mend. I couldn’t be bothered dealing with his sadness as well as my looming exams at the time as I was still pretty run down, though that didn’t stop him from blocking me by the Tuesday morning.
I wonder if he ever worked out what lactose intolerance is…