The One Who Really Didn’t Agree – Tinder.

Let’s preface this story by saying, if you disagree with people who take medication for Mental Health purposes, this story will not be for you. This story is intended to be light hearted and is not me seeking advice, and as someone who has been taking medication to control mental health concerns for a number of years, and who has really struggled to find a therapy, strategy or medication that works for me, I feel that I need a certain level of understanding and support from anyone I date (or potentially want to date.) I have also always been a big advocate for people taking measures to help their mental health and feel better. It’s something I feel passionately about, and despite any jokes I may make to the contrary, I would never tear someone down for being passionate about something that I don’t agree with. Aaron, however, was not of the same mindset.

I met Aaron in mid 2016 and while there were no immediate sparks, we planned to meet for lunch before I had to do an assessment at uni to see if things went better in person. A note before we really get into this – Aaron is a vegan. This fact does bare some weight in the story, especially in reference to my statement about not judging someone based on their life choices, but I wasn’t aware of this until the point he mentions it in this story. Continuing.
So we met at Melbourne Central and planned to walk around a bit before getting something to eat, and things immediately seemed weird. He had a hobby I had never really considered or known about before, and when I asked him about it (in a lull in conversation) he almost seemed defensive- even angry, that I had asked. I was simply curious as I had never met someone with an interest in the particular hobby, he acted as though I were attacking him. I asked him questions very carefully in order to find out more information about the hobby (“So how long have you been doing this?” and “Does your family do it too?”) And he responded as if I had asked him what in his right mind possessed him to start such a hobby and why his hobbies weren’t more interesting (“Well Jesus, it’s not that weird, everyone I know does it!” and “Seriously, is it that hard to grasp that I enjoy this?? REALLY?”)  I stopped asking questions and asked what he felt like eating, mentioning that there were some great places for Pizza or Pasta nearby.
“I’m a Vegan.” Was his only response. No further information or input, leaving it up to me to decide. When we eventually landed on a place really close to campus, all he ordered was a bowl of chips (making me feel self conscious about ordering anything more.)
Conversation was a little bit awkward, and eventually I had to leave to go to my assessment and I told him we would talk later.

The next day I had to visit my GP to get a blood test and review how my medication was going, as I felt as though there were something wrong – they didn’t feel like they were working. I can always tell when my meds aren’t working as effectively, as I vigilantly monitor my moods and symptoms, ensuring that if I see a fluctuation that lasts more than 7 days (with no ~ physical ~ reason) I check in with myself and work out what’s going on. So, when I noticed a slump I couldn’t explain I decided to check in while at my next GP appointment. So, while I was waiting Aaron messaged me and asked what I was up to for the day, and then asked me whether I was ok when I said that I was in the waiting room at the doctor’s. I let him know why I was there – never one to shy away from discussing mental health and medication as I feel it creates some much needed awareness for the struggles some people go through. I told him I was doing a check up on my meds and on my current mental state, and that it was nothing serious, just something I needed to stay on top of. Normally, this is the only explanation I need to give, but with Aaron this was just the start of a massive argument.

I hadn’t checked my phone since I sent that message, I instead was called into my appointment, had to go pick up my new prescription and went to get a coffee before I needed to go home and work on my next assignment, so when I did get home and found Aaron berating me for my decision to go on medication (as if I weren’t already on them before that very morning) I knew it was the beginning of the end.
How could you put your body through that? Do you not know how damaging it is to put all those toxic chemicals into your body? You’re already destroying your health eating meat and animal products, how could you then actively choose to put something else in your body like that? Just go outside for a change, get some sun on you and you’ll feel better, it’s not even that hard.”

Ok, Aaron, there are so many things wrong with this. You can NOT tell someone how to live their life, and you certainly can not force your opinion down my throat. I never asked for an opinion, nor did I ask for advice. I was being transparent about my mental health; I was being vulnerable. And this is how it played out. I wasn’t sure how to respond to him, so I decided it best to leave it while I gathered my thoughts. I switched my phone off, disconnected my laptop from the internet and burnt through 2 readings and an assignment (or at least, as far as I could get without needing the internet.) And by the time I responded, I felt as though there were nothing better in the world I could say.

Right, and what gives you the right to dictate what I can and can’t do with my own body? First to attack my decision to eat meat, which is fine, I’m happy to leave that one alone as it’s your decision what you do and don’t eat, but then to attack my right to be medicated for my mental health concerns? I made the decision to take medication when nothing else was working for me; I have tried as much therapy in as many different styles as possible, with as many different people as possible, and found that day to day it’s easier and better for me to be medicated. I also eat meat because I have a fairly strict diet to follow to remain healthy and balanced, it helps me cope with my eating disorder. Neither of those are yours to comment on and I don’t appreciate you trying to tell me how to live my life when you’ve been in it for less than a month. If you had been expressing concern for my mental health or even just asking a question about why I choose to be on meds, I would respect you more, but attacking me for my choices? I disagree with being a vegan and haven’t once attacked that. But now you think you can attack me? I’m really not interested in this anymore, I’m sorry but this is the one thing that’s non-negotiable for me.”

Again, I would think this was a reasonable end but apparently I was wrong. Aaron had something else to say, some more “friendly advice” to share to critique my every day life and freedom of choice.
You should go and see my friend, I’ll even take you myself to make sure you go. He knows everything and is better than any medication ever will be, I’ve been to see him a lot and he’s cured all my problems. I’ll even drive you – I won’t come in unless you want me to, but I’ll take you and make sure you see him. Just don’t put any of those chemicals in your body, that’s the first step. We can fix the rest.”

Reading that made me feel a lot of things – Aaron was not only controlling, but was righteous and condescending. He had decided he was the fixer of all my problems and that he knew better than I about my own issues. Aaron was convinced we were a good match and that if I were to just give in to his wishes, things would work between us (go figure. One person gives up all their personal beliefs for the other and things workout – for the other person.)


Funnily enough, I did not respond to Aaron, and nor did he message me again. A few years later, he tried to reconnect via Instagram after seeing a body positivity post I had made about my personal progress. He reassured me that he had grown a lot personally since the last time we had spoken, and that he had done some research into the matter and now understood why I had decided to medicate, however the damage had been done and I was not interested in his nonsense at this stage, as my own personal growth lead me to take no shit from someone who only wanted to control all my problems. Aaron tried to tell me a few more times that he still thought my seeing his friend would fix all my problems (so much for personal growth…) but after a while he gave up. I refused to give up meat or meet his friend, and he refused to accept that I was doing what I knew was best for me.

Truly, a match made in heaven.

Lessons Learnt.

So my dudes,

I thought I’d start a section on here for lessons that I have not only learnt, but also lessons I have taught to others. This can act as an advice guide for both you and your dates, and hopefully serve as a reminder to one and all that sometimes we need to learn from experiences we’ve had along the way, and even if you don’t have these experiences yourself, you can learn from my many, many failed dates and bad experiences.

I am hoping that I can layer these in between stories so that my lessons are sprinkled in with the experiences that taught me them, and can save you some hardship somewhere along the line. I’m also opening it up to you, the people. If you would like any advice, or if you would like to ask a question, then please contact me or leave a comment and hopefully I can clear things up. I am, by no means, a professional but I do have experience in all matters of the heart, and while I have suffered through terrible dates and heartbreak, I have also loved and been loved and I know that through all of these experiences, I have grown as a person 🙂 so please, let me know if there is something else you would like to see or get advice on!

The One That Was “No Problemo!” – Hinge.

Do you ever meet someone and wonder Huh, how are you still single? And then they open their mouth and suddenly it’s like Huh. THAT’S why you’re still single. And isn’t it funny how sometimes the things we think we want most turn out to be a bit of a nightmare? This is one of those stories. It all begins with a boy, a date and an unusual back story.

Meet Alex. He was the older brother of someone I had been friends with as a child – possibly not the most ideal of scenarios, but still I felt it was kind of cool. I had had a childhood crush on him that (obviously) never went anywhere as I lost contact with him and his family over the years. Then one day up pops a familiar face on Hinge. I didn’t know why I recognized him, as there was a glitch in the app that meant that sometimes when I was swiping I could only see one or two photos and a person’s prompts, though eventually it was worked out that we knew each other from a long time ago, and a date was planned for dinner the following week. I had been rather busy at work and in my social life at this stage, so when I started to feel what I thought was a cold coming on I decided to try and push through; however, as someone who has pre-existing issues with their sinuses, it should’ve been a red flag for me, and I probably should have taken more care of it than I did.

The date came, and while we had been chatting quite consistently before the date via text, when physically together things seemed a little stilted, and I felt somewhat uncomfortable the entire time. I don’t know what specifically it was about this whole situation that made me as uncomfortable as I was, the conversation had been ok via text, but that was about it. He didn’t have me laughing, we weren’t engaging in any serious conversation, we were only really covering surface level topics. While there was nothing especially wrong with that, it also wasn’t as stimulating or interesting as it had been over text. It felt like he came across as thinking he was better than me, which wasn’t the most appealing thing in the world. Most of the talking was left up to me and my nervous stammering, and (much to my horror) he wasn’t interested in my anecdotes about bad dates or working in hospitality. Que se passe-t-il. 

Upon sitting down at the table and being provided menus, Alex immediately critiqued the server and made snide comments about not being able to hear her (even though we were in a very busy restaurant with lots of full tables and lots of noise.) and her not doing her job properly. After critiquing her, he decided to list off his likes and dislikes in the food world, effectively ruling out everything on the menu as there was some element on each that he refused to eat. When we ordered and started eating, he also announced that I was “a super slow eater” even after I explained I get anxious eating in front of other people for the first time because of my eating disorder, and after leaving me to do the majority of the talking so that I couldn’t wolf my food down. He asked if I had ever been to the restaurant before, and in truth – I had. I had been on 2 dates to that restaurant prior to this one, and I wasn’t the one who suggested the restaurant and I wasn’t going to say no, seeing as it was a restaurant I really liked and a place I felt comfortable. But when I told him that I had, he started acting incredibly defensively about it, even though I had only said that I had in fact been there before – no further detail.
We were given a free dessert (which happened whenever I went to this particular restaurant) and even that didn’t seem to excite him as much as it excited me – a free dessert. He even had the audacity to complain about it!? A FREE DESSERT!?
He walked me back to my car, the conversation still stilted and a bit weird, and that was where it got weirder. After struggling to figure out where his head was during the date, and whether or not he liked me- he suddenly became hyper-sexual, making out with me, touching my butt and holding me close enough that I could feel his excitement. Each time I tried to peel myself away to go home, he would grab my arms or wrists and pull me back, locking me into an awkward kiss. At one stage he tried to kiss me while I was talking, and tried to shove his tongue in my mouth. When I pulled away to finish my sentence (me telling him I wanted to head home for the hundredth time) he poked my teeth with his finger and told me he was “more interested in what’s inside there” than what I was saying. (a sentence that still gives me nightmares to this day.) He seemed to think that grabbing a girl, pressing your boner against her hip bone and not letting her out of your death grip was sexy and cute- a fun and flirty way to get around to having sex. Need I remind you all, we were in a car park at this point? I had tried to establish PDA boundaries, and he instead had hurdled over all of them and seemed to want to go for it right there in the car park. This entire experience made me consider where the local convent was and how I would go about applying.
It didn’t seem to match up with the (almost) lack of interest I had felt in the restaurant, but I guess some people really aren’t interested in anything but that one thing. I went home that night still feeling that tickle at the back of my nose, but intent on pushing forward I still went to work the next morning. 

I did push through, but by Wednesday I had (what I assumed was) a cold, and I was struggling to breathe and walk any distance greater than 20 metres without becoming breathless. I continued to go to work, but by the Friday (when we had planned to see each other again) I was completely unable to move, and coughing so violently I was starting to throw up. I cancelled our date (much to his frustration) and went to bed, sleeping on and off for the next 2 days until Monday rolled back around again. I went back to work, still feeling run down and not entirely certain that the Codral I was taking was helping. I ended up getting sent home from work twice that week, as I was more sick than I was willing to admit, and making everyone around me uncomfortable with how much coughing, sneezing and nose blowing I needed to do. I was definitely not the most fun person to be around at the time, as I was so ill that I was either asleep or using all the little energy I had in order to get up and shower or make a cup of tea. It turns out I had a sinus infection – a nasty, and very uncomfortable situation, but not one I was not used to. Through the week, Alex had tried to reorganize the date to no avail. He would text me on 10 minutes notice and ask if I wanted to come over because he was home alone or because his family were going to be out for a while. Wow. 

I was SO sick, and felt so much pressure in my head and sinuses that it constantly felt like my head would explode. I had been avoiding using my phone and staring at screens for too long, as my head was only worsened by the harsh lighting of a screen, and I was trying my best to feel and get better. This meant that my response time to everyone, not just Alex, was awful as I would get through possibly a max of 2 messages before I would want to give up completely and shut my eyes. I responded to whoever I could, whenever I could, and tried to keep a conversation going when it was slowly becoming too much for me. My conversations with people are usually quite detailed and in depth, I rarely have “small talk” conversations off of dating apps, but in my state that level of commitment to each message was not possible. I struggled to even think of a response, let alone to type one out and send it; my brain feeling like a bowl of cold mashed potatoes. Mostly, this did not go unnoticed. My friends are generally good at not picking on me for not responding, but this time something was different. I kept getting reminded that I hadn’t responded to their texts etc. and told that they “missed me” or were wondering where I was. People continued to ask me to hang out, and I said no because the short notice meant I was not well enough to go out, and this continued to annoy people – mostly Alex. A few of the attempts made by these people were almost made out to sound as though they were guilting me about not having been around, with some of them seemingly furious that I had dared not respond to them because I had been taking time for myself.
I haven’t heard from you lately and I have a lot I want to talk about – why aren’t you responding?”
“You just don’t seem like yourself since the last time we spoke, I need to tell you about this awful thing that happened but how can I do that if you’re never around?”
“OI! Dickhead! Read my texts!”
“Maybe if you’d actually responded quicker, we could’ve hung out.”
The examples could go on, but I will leave them at my select favourites. I was also subjected to one friend who carried on a conversation and repeatedly sent me messages about a half hour apart each time, as if I were responding; and another boy off Hinge (who will feature in a story of his own very soon) who repeatedly messaged me a few hours apart each time, every day for a week asking if I were better yet. Sigh. 

The following week, and not feeling a whole heap better than I had, I went back to work and ended up in the emergency room as the pressure in my head and face had caused me to pass out – turns out I also had an ear infection that I had just been passing off in my head as sinus pain. Thankfully the severity of this incident was a much needed wakeup call for the people who had spent the week guilting me regarding my sudden disappearance. But I hadn’t heard from Alex since my last delayed response on Sunday evening and it was now Monday night, so figured I was finally in the clear. But then came the rant.

On Wednesday, I was sitting at work on a cocktail of lovely anti-biotics and pain meds, and was just settling into the thousands of tasks I had left to do from my absence the week before, when I got a text. For the sake of myself typing, and you reading, I will attempt to paraphrase it and give you as much detail as I can, without boring you with how lengthy and difficult it was to follow.
This message basically said that he “struggled to understand how my communication could drop off so much” (despite being sick), that he “didn’t know why I had failed to commit to a second date so many times” (as if no reason were provided) and that we “need to actually go out again to be able to continue things – which I want to do.” (a threat or just total statement of the obvious? You decide)
Not really in the mood for any of this nonsense, I sent back a rant about how I had been sick and had ended up in hospital, so my disappearance was anything but me not being interested in him, and was rather me trying not to feel as trashy as I had; including that I had been messaging back when possible and trying to keep a conversation going; trying to keep him posted on how I was feeling (without the gory details) but apparently this was not enough as I had not been responding fast enough for his liking. Oy with the poodles already. 

Awaiting another argument, I prepared a list of all the times I had told him how sick I was, and all the times he had asked me to hang out on less than an hour’s notice when I had been bed ridden for days. Alex didn’t take this too kindly – apparently expecting that I give him a play by play of my illness, and finding it unreasonable that I hadn’t prioritized speaking to him when I had been responding to other people (how he knew I had also been speaking with other people, I will never know, but to expect someone I went on one date with become my number one priority instantly is absurd, offensive and completely misguided.) I had completely missed messages from my family regarding some rather exciting news, from my best friends, some of whom were really struggling mentally and going through a lot, and from my work – pretty self-explanatory why that’s important, but I digress. He expected that I respond to him instantly and not “with a 3 hour delay like you have been every single time.” Hmmm. Maybe not? He saw nothing wrong with this expectation, however, and repeatedly told me he didn’t feel unreasonable in expecting that I prioritise him more than I had.

This led to us almost arguing over how this should have gone down – He seemed to think that just because he had been on one date with me, I owed him more of an explanation than me repeatedly telling him I was sick and unable to move or do anything, and should’ve kept him updated at ALL times on how I was feeling. I felt that saying I had been sick was enough, as I thought he would understand when I said “I have a sinus infection.” That I wasn’t in a position to be going out on such short notice as he had been giving me, and that the many times I mentioned that it wasn’t personal, I was just sick, meant that he would have some compassion and stop constantly harassing me about coming over on 10 minutes notice. Sure, bud, I can’t breathe, but I’d LOVE to have sweaty, snotty sex with you and then have to run out because your family are coming home – where do I sign up? 

Alex seemed to think his demands were not unreasonable, that wanting me to prioritise him was not unreasonable, and that expecting I have sex with him when my head felt like it was exploding and had no ability to breathe was not at ALL unreasonable, no siree it was not unreasonable in the slightest. Alex turned into a very condescending, controlling man who I am glad to see the back of. While I had tried to explain my struggle at the start (with the vomiting triggering some memories of eating disorders and a fear of ending up in hospital) it had fallen on deaf ears and he had continued to push me and ignore my thoughts and feelings as he imposed his own beliefs about body image, self-worth and ways to cope with a breakup on me (Where that came from, I’ll never know but I got his full set of beliefs about how working out is the best way of coping post-breakup one day while I was asleep.) Each time I had expressed how ill I felt, he had ignored it to instead ask if I wanted to come over while the house was empty – or he had offered to come over at times when he assumed my house would be empty too. His texts were the ones that, when I would respond, he would say “Maybe if you’d actually responded quicker, we could’ve hung out.”
I understand only being after one thing from someone, but I also believe in setting clear expectations with someone about what you’re looking for, and if that was all he was looking for, I would have preferred he not message me like that, so constantly and demanding so much, and just let it slide under the rug. I do not even slightly believe that there is any situation acceptable to treat another human being like this, we had only been on one date and had no existing relationship beyond knowing each other as children and said date. But suddenly, I was supposed to let him know at every stage of my illness what I was feeling, and he expected that I give up my sick days to hang out with him – but only when the house was empty and it suited him, and only ever on 10 minutes notice with a window of about an hour each time when he also lived 20 minutes away from me. Factoring in 40 minutes of travel time, can anyone really safely say he was after anything but sex?

After much arguing about how unreasonable it was that he expected me to make him more of a priority when I couldn’t even respond to my own family, I told him I felt it was best we not continue things, as he was expecting too much from me and didn’t seem to care that I was not giving more because I very simply couldn’t. I also told him that I was not interested in someone who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) even check in to see if I was feeling better, and instead kept asking me to come over knowing full well all he wanted was sex, and then got mad because I couldn’t respond (because I was asleep and sick.) Maybe he had a fetish for snot? Is that a thing?
I explained that I was uncomfortable from the moment we met and that this constant harassment was no way to get a girl to sleep with you, especially if she was as sick as I had been at the time.


Alex had one response to that. No recognition of issues, no apology for making me feel uncomfortable, not even a response to me asking if he knew how sick I’d been – even after I said I’d been in hospital, as he had made his point abundantly clear that he felt everything he did was completely reasonable; all he said was –
“No problemo!”

The One With Instagram – Hinge.

This one’s just weird.

In mid-2019 when I downloaded Hinge, I felt that maybe this would be a fresh start. As you have seen, and likely will continue to see; I have been on quite a few Hinge dates. This app was intended to connect you with people you will actually like and get along with; and while I had no delusions that I would meet the love of my life on an app, I was still hoping to meet some people I actually had an interest in or something in common with. As with all dating apps, it was very hit or miss meeting people. I have met boys I’ve had a good connection with – if not had a good conversation with. This, however, is definitely not one of those stories. Asher was neither of those things. 

Asher was attractive and, based on what I saw on his profile, looked like the kind of person I would enjoy speaking with. He had a prompt about the OJ Simpson trial (big bonus points), had a cool job, had photos with puppies and from music festivals, had linked his Instagram where he had beautifully shot photos and videos from his travels, and one of his prompts was a very amusing story from one of his trips overseas. All up, he had lots of material to discuss, so when I commented on his OJ Simpson prompt, I felt like we would at least be able to have a conversation. Idiot, me.
On Hinge, one of the many, many prompts you can select to put on your profile is “Change my mind about…” and all Asher’s profile said was “Change my mind about… The OJ Simpson trial.” Not knowing where his head was on the case, I simply commented-
Are you for or against the final verdict?”
A couple of hours later, I got a response.
Guilty lol”
Not quite the answer I had expected, but still something I was able to work with. I had a think about how to dig a little deeper with him and landed on this –
“Me too, I definitely think he did it. Did you watch the American Crime Story they did on it? Or is your opinion a gut feeling?”
Again, I waited a few hours and got this response –
Don know what that is lol just my opinion don’t have a shit fit lol.” (Note – the poor grammar and punctuation throughout these are taken straight from the messages themselves.) Cool. Usually I would end the conversation there and leave it completely alone, but on this occasion I really wanted to know whether he meant “don’t be mad that I haven’t seen the show.” Or whether he genuinely thought I was angry that we agreed and I wanted to discuss it.
Ok so a gut thing. Do you have an opinion on JonBenet Ramsay?” (One of my favourite conspiracies and conversation starters, as almost everyone has an idea or a perspective that I want to hear, and if you have one, please feel free to leave it below!) But this is where the annoying part started. He responded –
Nah Instagram?”
Now. Despite having a blog about my bad dates, I am a fiercely private person. All of my social media accounts are private and show as little detail as humanly possible to anyone I’m not friends with. I choose to write under a pseudonym on other blogs, and redact my own name and certain details of myself, my life and my dates in order to remain anonymous – this is why I will not share screenshots of these interactions, and why sometimes I will brush over certain aspects of my life or of these dates.
Furthermore, I never link my social media accounts to dating profiles, I don’t give away my Insta handle or my full name to people I’ve only just started talking to and I keep my background details as vague as possible at the start to protect myself, so someone asking me outright if we can switch to a platform I keep locked down isn’t going to fly. In other stories, if I mention “quickly switching” to another medium, I am using my own standard for the word “quickly.” This usually takes a week of actual conversation, and even then I don’t always feel comfortable. So this? This certainly didn’t cut it for me.
Sorry I don’t give it out to people I don’t know, I’m just a bit of a private person.”
I understand that on a dating app, you need to be willing to let go of your fierce privacy at some point in order to meet and potentially date people, but I will always at least keep my personal life (where I work, where I hang out, what area I’m from, who my friends are) held close to me until I know I am comfortable enough sharing it.
Oh haha how was your day?”
This started the annoying conversation. Once the (incredibly brief) conversation about OJ Simpson was over, he would ask me vague and uninteresting questions about my day and how I was, and when I responded he would then send back the same two responses.
The first being “haha”
The second, sent immediately after, being “Instagram?” 
As if this somehow help us get to know one another, as if this could somehow speed up the process for him so that he could get a look inside my life.

I gave up after the fourth time I tried to ask him about anything else (his prompts, his photos, his travel stories, his dogs) and continually got the same responses. I left one of his messages unopened and went about my week as usual, but every now and then saw a message from him asking how my day was and then asking “Instagram?” 

What part of being fiercely private did he not understand? I eventually gave up on the prospect of discussing anything further than my Instagram handle with him and unmatched him. But every now and then he pops up when I’m swiping through, and he has since changed one of his prompts to “One thing I want to know about you…”
And the Answer?
Instagram?” 

The One Where I Was The Bad Date – Tinder.

I guess sometimes things don’t work out because I’m the bad date. Bad might even be a bit of a stretch, but bad is also how I would describe this. I don’t think I’m perfect, and I know that I can be a bit of a pain, but this story is definitely a rarity, as this was mostly unprovoked and was just because I was being petty at the time and was fed up with the boy in question. 

Sebastian came into my life around the same time the first and only person I ever truly loved left, and right before someone who had a huge impact on me entered my life. Things had not ended well with the guy I thought I had fallen in love with, and I know that that had some kind of influence on this story, as this guy was pushy and I wanted to be over it all. I never advocate for using someone to get over someone else, and I have truly learnt my lesson because of this situation and know to deal with my own emotional baggage before I get involved with someone else, as I have been both the user and the used and I know how difficult it can be to be in both positions. 

So a little more on Sebastian. Sebastian was a few years older than I was, and was nice(ish) to talk to. He had a dorky job, a few nerdy hobbies and some interests I definitely did not share – which at the time seemed fine. Sometimes when you meet someone with different hobbies and interests to you, it can be more fun. You may learn something or even discover an interest you never knew you had, and as a result, you get to share something special with them, and they get to share something even more special with you. Sebastian didn’t seem to mind the different interests, he thrived on them, taking pride in his dorky interests and sharing as much as he could about as many of them as he could. He could be a little bit condescending, especially about having a wealthy family, having been to a fancy private school and living in what he thought was a nice area, but that definitely wasn’t the worst thing about him. The worst thing was that he got extremely clingy extremely quickly – classic stage five clinger if ever I saw one. As someone who values independence and having their own space, this was a lot to take on board so quickly, especially from someone who I wasn’t overly interested in and who (until a certain point) I hadn’t met. We organized to hang out a couple of times, originally having a coffee at a local café, then going out to dinner and to see a movie (which he talked through, much to my chagrin as I had suggested the movie we saw), and then hanging out at an art gallery in the Melbourne CBD before one final date that I will get to a little later on. He became progressively clingier as the dates went on, and it started getting really uncomfortable. Normally, I’m not one to engage in public displays of affection. If I do, I’m hugging someone hello or goodbye, I might kiss someone in public if I’ve been seeing them for a while, and usually I try and do it when no one else is around. The day we went to the art gallery was when it really ramped up. Sebastian kept trying to hold my hand in the street, and tried to “romantically” (read awkwardly) pull me in for a kiss by saying “come here…” with what I can only assume was his bedroom face, before wrapping his arms around my waist and yanking me closer to him- in the middle of an exhibit. I’m really not about that. The final date was one that I was also not a huge fan of, so I will try and keep this brief and then I’ll explain why I was a bad date.
We were hanging out, had eaten dinner and I think Sebastian thought things were going to go a little bit further than they were. He started kissing me, really trying to make out with me, and get heated. This was something I was also not interested in, but it didn’t stop him from trying. That was when I felt it. I was wearing a dress, he was wearing dress pants and all of a sudden I felt something warm on my leg. No – he hadn’t peed on me, but yes, he had gotten VERY excited and I was suddenly very aware of that. Oy with the poodles already. Sebastian had cum on my leg and was done for the night. He promptly informed me he had only ever had sex once, and it was a few years (exactly to the day) earlier. Wonderful. This for me was way too much information and I excused myself to the bathroom to wipe my leg clean and get ahold of myself. Sebastian was a chronic over sharer, a quality in him I was beginning to strongly dislike. I went back out and he seemed pretty pleased with himself, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me in and kissing my nose repeatedly (ew ew ew ew ew) and telling me how great I was. The date ended abruptly then and I went home to shower and rid of the horrific memory of that night. Each date had had an element worse than the last, from bragging constantly about having been to a private school, to talking through a movie I had desperately wanted to see, to being condescending and competitive about everything (including whose parents love who more – hint, my parents are divorced and I don’t have a great relationship with one of them, so that conversation was quite triggering for me.) He told me about crashing his car a couple of months after he had been given it so his parents bought him a new one (I had worked hard to earn the money to buy myself a second hand car – he had been given 2 brand new ones), he told me about competing with his pregnant sister for who had the better blood pressure, commenting that I wouldn’t understand as I never had any siblings to compete with, before making the real kicker of a comment – “What kind of childhood did you even have?” (which again triggered me as I have a lot of trauma attached to my childhood that I don’t like thinking about on a date).
Sebastian also never seemed to understand the requests I made about his behavior in public, let alone the physical cues that went along with them. No matter how often I pulled away or told him something made me uncomfortable, he still persisted in doing it.  On our second date, he had told his friends we were going out and they had asked for “a picture of the happy couple!” as if we were boyfriend and girlfriend already (on our second date.) which I again mentioned made me uncomfortable after he tried to get a picture with me.

Now, I said I was a bad date at the top of this, but I’ll leave you to judge for yourselves and please let me know what you think when you read the rest of this.
I had tried and failed to set up clear boundaries with Sebastian from the start, telling him I wasn’t comfortable with PDA’s, letting him know I wasn’t an affectionate person when I don’t know someone well and didn’t enjoy holding hands or kissing in public, I told him repeatedly that I have an issue with being touched when I haven’t consented and that it takes a bit of time for me to get to that level with anyone. All of this seemingly fell on deaf ears, as he consistently pushed the boundaries and made me feel increasingly uncomfortable. At this point, any time he tried to hold my hand, I pulled it away; I felt that if I walked ahead of him, he wouldn’t try and kiss me in public, and that if I made a physical point of not getting caught in his immediate vicinity, he would get the hint. Actions would hopefully speak louder than words, and with how clingy he was getting, it was the only way I could see fit to get out of it if my words were going nowhere.
Sebastian also started getting ridiculously jealous about nothing- my male friends (with girlfriends) were threats, my gay friends were threats – any male I interacted with was a threat to him. I wasn’t even his girlfriend, but the clingy started turning to possessive. This, combined with how competitive and condescending he was becoming made me feel more and more suffocated. I had met Sebastian between semesters at Uni and a week after our last date, my semester started again so I became twice as busy as I had been with work and study. I was sitting in a class one day when Sebastian asked me what I was doing – so I told him what class I was in.
Your entire degree is such a wank wtf.” He responded.
Granted, I was in a subject I had chosen as I had deemed it to be an easy pass and needed my elective to be a bit more forgiving than the 3 core units I had to do as well that semester. But does that give him, or anyone for that matter, the right to belittle me and cast judgement on what I had chosen to do? The answer is, and always will be, no.
Wow.” Was the only response I could muster.
No no no not what I meant! Just that that class sounds so different to what I’m used to with Uni.”
This was the last straw for me, and I decided to stop responding. Sebastian had disrespected my boundaries, my wishes and my comfort and now he was disrespecting my life choices. Boy, bye. 

Sebastian kept hanging on, texting me asking if I wanted to hang out on various nights, asking if I wanted to come to family events (um, no.) or to events related to his hobbies – where his family would also be so oh, what a great chance to meet them. It was that very week I met the person I dated for the next year, and then that I decided to be a little bit petty. While studying the night before my first date with this new boy, I accidentally sent Sebastian a snap intended for one of my closest friends who had asked me what I was doing the following day and whether I wanted to get coffee. I had double tapped what I thought was my friend’s snap to reply, and instead had tapped the one below it from Sebastian to reply to him.
Instead of sending a snap to apologize, I decided to add insult to injury. All my initial snap had said was “Sorry, I can’t, I’m going to hang out with X, we’re going to this local cafe.” (Side bar – I haven’t decided what I’ll call that boy yet as I am still tossing up whether or not to write about him in one of these posts – so for now he is X.) And without sending any clarifying snap to let him know I was going on a date with someone else, I left it.
I had also named the local café in my snap, as we are all from the same area and know the place I was talking about – Sebastian, too, because he lived 5 minutes away and had asked me to meet him there one day.  Ha ha haaaa. 

Sebastian responded with his typical “Who is that?????” and all I could do was laugh and say “Sorry, wrong person.”
While on the date, I posted an Instagram story where you could clearly see a man’s hands in the background at the table with me. Sebastian was the first person to view the story, and immediately messaged me to ask how my day was and what I had decided to do. I ignored his message and continued on my date, enjoying what was the start of a mostly fantastic relationship with someone I clicked with really well. As I got home, X and I were already planning our next 2 dates, and Sebastian sent me a message asking if I were still at that café and if I wanted to wait there and get coffee when he finished work. No.
It was a few days later, after I posted a snap of myself with the caption “hiking date ready” to my story that I saw Sebastian typing and then nothing. I later discovered he had blocked me in doing that. Haaaaaa.

On my third date with X (which fell within a week of the first) I got what I can only describe as the most useless message of my life. I had made it clear to Sebastian that I wasn’t interested in pursuing things, even down to outright ignoring him when he wouldn’t accept what I was saying, and had given him no signs or reason to think he was getting a girlfriend out of this situation. As I got into X’s car to head off on another hike, I laughed and read out the following message to him –
Hey * redacted *, I hope you’re well! I don’t think things between us are working anymore, and I’m really sorry but I just don’t think it’s going to go any further. I understand if you’re confused and I’m more than happy to sit down and talk it out if you need any further information, but I just don’t think we’re working and I don’t want to hurt you. Thank you for everything and good luck in the future.” 

Sebastian had broken up with me – after weeks of me telling him he was making me uncomfortable and asking him to stop, while I was in someone else’s car going out on a date, he ended things. We went on a hike near Sebastian’s house (as he and X live only minutes from one another but have never met or had anything to do with one another beyond both knowing me.) and a few times while driving out on another date, X and I would pass Sebastian on the street or at the local shops, and every time it looked like we had punched him in the face. 

When I got home from that date with X, after texting him to accept plans for our 4th date, I decided to text Sebastian back and give him a piece of my mind.
Hey bud.” (always the start of a super bitchy text on my behalf)
Don’t worry your tiny head about it, I’m not in the slightest bit confused. I don’t want to sit down and talk it out, I know why it’s not working. I want to give you some advice for the future. If a girl isn’t comfortable with something you’re doing, don’t do it. And if you get a second date out of her, don’t immediately tell your friends about it, and if you do, don’t then show her the message where they’re asking for a picture of “the happy couple.” That’s probably moving a bit too fast, and combined with the other issue, it may be a bit much for her. All the best.” And with that he was gone. 

Funnily enough, he didn’t text me back, though he is still in the viewing list of every Instagram story I’ve ever posted. He recently found a girlfriend and put it on Facebook (something I’m surprised he didn’t try with me considering how clingy he got.) And while I’m happy for them; I truly, truly hope she’s either the most tolerant person alive or that he’s grown up and taken feedback on board.

Otherwise I hope their breakup is public, and I hope I am able to witness it – I love a good “told ya so” moment.

The One with the X Rated Ending – Hinge.

This story is not for anyone under the age of 16 or who has strong feelings about pre-marital sex. This story will also get a little bit graphic and for that I am sorry – this is just a cautionary tale to men and women alike.

This one starts off like many of these stories – a pretty boy, some good conversation and a plan to hang out. The bottle of red was bought, the time was set, and the outfit was cute. The plans were made hastily and seemed to be pretty standard, and something I enjoy doing from time to time on a date – hang out, drink wine and talk, see where it takes us. Ready for a night of good conversation and good wine, I showered and made myself look and smell like a functional human being (when at the time I had a nasty sinus infection and felt less than functional.) And even went so far as to change my sheets to ensure everything was as appealing as possible. But more on that later. 

Simon showed up in a suit, apparently having been to an event beforehand, which wasn’t what threw me most about him. What threw me most was actually his height. I don’t claim to be anything except petite – I am an incredibly small person, standing at only 5’1. But Simon was not much taller than me, and while he had listed his height at 5’10, he was barely taller than me, coming in closer to 5’6 than anything. I know it’s shallow to be thrown by this, but having expected him to be significantly taller, this was a bit of a surprise to see he had lied on his profile. I moved past this fact, not wanting to appear too shallow, but was then thrown by his voice. His voice came out sounding a little bit like that of a pre-pubescent boy rather than a 26 year old man. Hmmmm.
Again, for the sake of the evening I moved past it and tried to enjoy the conversation… Until he told me he had accidentally put his age in wrong on the app. Oh no. At this point, I knew he lived at home and was still at uni studying (a Bachelor’s degree, so I had thought it was weird at 26 but not completely unheard of.) Combining this with the fact he was still rather short, had shown up in an uber (and not driven himself) and sounded like a younger boy, I started panicking a la Monica Gellar when she discovers her boyfriend is actually a senior in high school, not college. According to Simon, he was only 24 – so not too far off and definitely not as bad as I had thought, but still quite a shock when all of these facts came to light. So, I continued on with the date, enjoying his company more and more as we got to know each other. 

Then things started heating up, and this is where events really take a turn. Disclaimer – this is your last warning, things aren’t pretty after this and I do reference sex and a sex accident. Click away now if that’s not what you came here for! Go read about poems and milkshakes and live in blissful ignorance as I wish I could when it comes to this story, leave thinking that the worst part was the amount of weird inconsistencies in his profile and information.
When we started kissing, Simon immediately shoved his tongue in my mouth and held it in there stiff like a dead fish. Not fun, but not awful, and I tried to keep the kissing as closed mouthed as possible. But then he wanted to take things further, and put his hand down my pants – fine, this is how these things start, I guess we’re not going to waste any time in getting there! I felt a little sting and just assumed it was a nerve or something, not given much time to think about it before he started rubbing his flat hand up and down, side to side down there. Yikes. The weird rubbing became more vigorous until he pulled his hand out and used it to push my head down. Again, fine, I guess this is where things were going anyway, I was just a little disappointed that he had used that hand to push my head down, as I had freshly washed my hair and was not happy that he had done that. After the shortest 2 minutes of my life, he used that same hand to pull my head back up to keep kissing. When we then got to the not pants part, the no-pants-dance if you will; it was as quick and disappointing as I can possibly describe – to the point where we weren’t actually doing anything, he was just rubbing himself against my stomach and panting. Images of Will and Charlotte in The Inbetweeners flashed through my brain, as I lay there wondering why I had done my hair and put makeup on if this is how disappointing it was. After a moment, he seemed to be done and rolled off me, happy with his effort. It was then that I noticed that I had a bit of blood on my leg. 

I caught sight of the blood and subtly checked my half of the bed, holding a tissue to it to stop it from dripping on my brand new, beloved quilt cover. I went to the bathroom and discovered his finger nail had sliced my inner thigh – as close to my noonie as possible, but not in or on it. What the actual fuck. I wiped it clean with some water, and wiped the blood off my leg and shoulder (obviously from where he had touched me in the process.) I asked him to leave, claiming I had an early start the next morning, and went to bed. I woke with the alarm I had set to make sure I was up and ready to go on time – as I had another date with someone else; when I noticed it. On my brand new quilt cover. My clean, white, patterned quilt cover that I had saved up for and splurged on when it went on sale – a blood stain in the shape of a finger. This little fuck-knuckle had realized I was bleeding, and rather than ask me if I was ok or check to see where the blood was coming from, he had wiped his fingers on my brand new quilt cover. And how do I know it was his and not mine? Because he was the one laying on the other side of the bed that I don’t sleep on or use – right next to the full, open box of tissues.

The One With The Catfishing Accusation. – Hinge

When choosing dating app photos, I generally try and choose the same things. A selfie or two – usually with nice subtle makeup, good lighting or a filter; a photo with my dog, a photo with a group of friends from some kind of formal event, a photo of me solo at another formal event. I paint a picture of my life, showing that I scrub up alright sometimes and that I can be social (when really I’m incredibly anxious about everything, all the time…) but I usually try and also pick pictures that paint a cohesive picture of what I look like. So when I met Riley on Hinge, I was incredibly surprised to find out that what I had envisioned, to him at least, was not only deceiving but was an incredible let down. This was also one of my first experiences on Hinge, and it was something that nearly convinced me to delete my account.

Riley seemed as normal as anyone else. Our chats were nice and flowy, he seemed pretty flirty (which at the time I enjoyed), he was interested in true crime and could keep up with my constant stream of ridiculous thoughts, theories and rants about cases I’d been listening to or had read about. He listened to the podcasts I listened to, had his own theories and thoughts on cases I was immensely interested in and seemed to enjoy the back and fourth we had going. This easy flowing, fun conversation is rare in the guys I meet on apps. Usually they’re full of ideas I’ve already heard of. “Have you heard of a podcast called Serial?” No shit, Sherlock, I listened to it in 2014 when it was released. “Have you ever heard of Jonbenet Ramsey?” Hasn’t everyone? “I think you’d really like Dirty John.” Baby, that’s why I’m anxious on dating apps, who are you fooling?
This kind of easy conversation continued for a couple of weeks before we decided to try and take things offline and into the real world. We planned to meet at a café midway between where we lived, and agreed to wear something in particular to show that it was us (kind of half as a joke, I thought…)

So I showed up to the café ready to keep talking to to this true crime loving beauty (because he was quite breathtaking to look at) wearing a shirt that said “The Husband Did It.” (to show it was me.) Paired with a pair of denim cut-off shorts and my white converses, I felt cute and ready to talk to this boy; in my element and confident as anything. I sat and waited, not wanting to order a coffee until he arrived, though also not oblivious to the fact he was late, and becoming later by the second. I must have checked my texts, Facebook and Tinder a hundred times before calling it quits and leaving the café. I ordered myself a coffee to go and sulked in the car listening to a podcast, waiting a moment to see if he showed up. When he still hadn’t shown up, I checked the message where he had set a date, time and place and made sure that I was, in fact, at the right place at the right time. Though it’s not something I’ve done before, I’m always anxious that I’ll mess up and stand someone up or go a day too early (how fun is anxiety.) But alas, I had all of the details correct, I was at the agreed upon place, I was at a table (and then in my car) facing the door to the cafe. How could I have possibly missed him? I even texted him to confirm what I already knew, watching to see if anyone outside grabbed their phone – but still, no response. I drove home with my phone at full volume in case he tried to call and ask where I was – but still, no word. I messaged my friends, informing them of my flop of a date, and decided that it was best to just pretend it hadn’t happened.

A day later, I received a message from him that – more than anything, hurt and confused me.
Hey * redacted! *I thought I should explain my absence yesterday but don’t really think I need to. I got to the café and saw you and you looked nothing like your photos, so I thought I’d leave. I don’t know what you did to your photos but it’s deceptive and rude to fool people like that, sucking them in and letting them down so much. Maybe reconsider your photos for next time? I’m gonna block your number now, I’m still a little embarrassed that I fell for all this. Have a nice life, catfish.”

I obviously never heard from Riley again, and spent a great deal of time looking in the mirror feeling like Ross Gellar when Joey sets him up on a date and then cancels it to make Ross want to go back to Rachel. I had never considered that someone could actually walk in and then walk straight out again upon seeing you until that day – and to this day, I still worry sometimes that someone will walk in, see me and walk back out whenever I go on a date.

The One Who Messaged Back Just a Little Too Late – Tinder.

So we’re back to early 2016 with a bit of a short story, and one of the first matches I ever had on Tinder, a fact that does play into this story later. This story with this boy, (lets call him Dean) takes place over a quite few months, with a lengthy tinder flirtation and many failed attempts at a first date. We had conflicting schedules that often meant we were not able to meet up and hang out, though we spoke fairly consistently from April, 2016 until late October, 2016. We started becoming fairly familiar with each other, despite never having met, and our conversations were an almost daily occurrence. I would not necessarily say you While I was obviously seeing other people during this time, things with Dean never seemed to pan out time wise and kind of faded into the background. I had him on Snapchat and occasionally would receive a snap or chat but by the end of November, it fizzled out completely. I don’t even know if we still had each other on Snap, as he rarely viewed my stories, sent me anything directly or posted stories. Things went completely radio silent, and on the rare occasion he would view my stories, it would be a stupid video of myself and friends doing something a little bit weird. Rice exploding in a microwave, stupid dancing in the library at uni, nothing important that would indicate that I was dating someone.

We’re doing a bit of a time jump here to complete the story, forward to September 2018. I had been steadily dating a guy since July, and had forgotten that I had Tinder on my phone, I hadn’t responded to anyone I had been chatting with in months so it wasn’t exactly a buzzing hive of activity. But then, one night while at work, I felt my phone ping. Dean sent you a message.

Hmm. I thought, I don’t remember swiping on anyone new in a long time? Having totally forgotten, by this point, how often we had spoken back in the day. I opened it up to find what I still think to be the funniest message I’ve ever received.
Hey * redacted first name * 🙂 x
How have you been recently??”

Stop it. No really, stop it.

How does one even respond to that? I literally could not even begin to imagine what this guy was imagining would happen, he’d message me 2 years after we had stopped speaking entirely and I’d fall madly in love with him immediately? As if 2 years going past hadn’t changed anything for me at all. If it weren’t for the total fluke of me having Tinder on my phone, even though I was dating someone, I wouldn’t have even seen the message. (to see how dating that boy ended, see the start of The One Who “Wasn’t Ready” for further details.)
I responded the next night with one of my work colleagues, not quite sure how to handle such an odd and uncomfortable situation. He offered to message back something super suggestive and try and freak him out, I suggested we find him on Facebook and he message Dean pretending to be my boyfriend (which was extra funny, as this colleague is gay.) Eventually, the resulting message was –
Recently like… In the last 2 years recently? Yeah look, bit of a rollercoaster as I guess you’d expect for 2 years worth of stuff. Gotta ask though – cause honestly, this is a little insane. Why now? After 2 years? 2 years, mate.”


He let me know he had been going through some old messages and wondered why we had stopped talking (it was because he stopped responding back then) so he thought he would message me to see how I was, remembering that we had had a good time chatting and had been trying to plan a date – 2 years ago. That was also the last message I sent on Tinder – me asking if he wanted to hang out, him not responding for 2 years. He did apologize for how awkward and random it was, at which point I took it upon myself to message him back and tell him that I didn’t know where to start in telling him about the last 2 years, but that as flattered as I was at the thought of him messaging me after all this time, I was in fact seeing someone. I said a quick sorry to him and wished him luck, ending the message with one of my favourite sassy quips of all time –
And good luck with everything, yeah? I hope the girl you waited 3 years to message back is keen.”
Sorry Dean…

The One With the Many Accidental Encounters.

So sometimes I have encounters with the opposite sex that aren’t on apps and that occur in real life. I am a very awkward person and from all of these scenarios I have walked away feeling guilty and uncomfortable for one reason or another. I also constantly feel like Chandler Bing, waiting to find his Monica – someone to put up with my awkward, goofy, well intentioned self. I’m very awkward and full of doubt about myself and others when it comes to dating, so seeing someone with a lot of confidence come to me in public makes me feel like even more of an anxious, nervous wreck.
These are some of my finest moments from my real life encounters with the male species.

The first takes place in 2018. I had finished a shift at my job, it was nearly midnight and I had a group of friends at a bar not far from where I had just finished work. I got a call as I was leaving asking if I felt like coming out for a bit, and to my own surprise I said yes. When I got there, the bouncer at the door had to stop everyone, check their ID and take their photo to make sure you weren’t getting back in if you left the premises. When it was my turn, I handed over my license and turned towards the camera, only to hear the bouncer say “with a smile like yours, you may not pay for a drink all night.” Chuffed, and very embarrassed, I went to laugh and ended up rolling my eyes in the photo so I was almost unrecognisable. I got inside, found my group and started talking and dancing, trying to enjoy the night even though I was mentally and physically exhausted. I went to the bar to get a drink when suddenly I felt a presence next to me. I turn to see a half drunk, very attractive guy leaning against the bar, almost swaying towards me.
Wow. You have a great face.”

 He slurred at me. I didn’t think too hard on it but to smile and say thank you. As I turned back to the bartender, he again tried to speak to me.
Do you have a pen?”
I, being a hospitality employee, always have and always have had a pen on me at all times as a result of my training. I usually would finish a shift with multiple stuffed in my pockets and bag, ready to go again the next night. I handed him my pen and turned back to the bartender again, trying to get my order out when I felt a tickle in my nose. (Sidebar – It was spring in Melbourne and Hayfever warnings were at an all time high.) I put in my standard drink order, and felt something nudge my elbow – this boy was giving me back my pen. As I went to take it back, I felt the sneeze of the century come on… Just as he handed me a napkin. I sneezed into the napkin, wiped my face and went to find a bin when I realized what I had done. This poor boy was trying to give me his number and I had just sneezed into the napkin he did it on.  He was someone I would have gladly accepted a number from in any normal circumstances, maybe just not the ones where my nose had exploded all over his digits. Oh my god. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole right there and then, and by the look on his face, he did too. I tried to apologize but was hit with 3 more of the most violent sneezes I’ve ever done (and I’m normally not a violent sneezer!) I watched him slink back to his group, took my drink and did the same thing. I sometimes wonder if that poor boy ever remembered me doing that, or if he were so drunk he just remembers the small girl with the manly sneeze… And sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night panicking about it because I never would’ve done that had I known what he was doing. Ugh.

Another accidental encounter happened in March 2019. The boy I was dating had been away for a while for work, and I was committed to being there for him when he got back, I didn’t want anything from anyone else, I just wanted him. While he was not my boyfriend, I did feel a commitment to him, as we had been together for a while and I really liked him as a person. So when one day on the train I was approached, not once, but twice I took it as my mission that I needed to be as unappealing as possible.
The first boy to try his luck saw that I was reading a book and decided that was a great way to get my attention. I was sitting there with my headphones in, reading my book when he sat himself down opposite me and tried to catch my eye. One would think that that would be the universal signal that I did not want to be bothered, but this boy pushed ahead.
That is a great book. What are you thinking of it so far?”
I looked up at him and told a small lie.
Yeah it’s great, my boyfriend recommended it to me and said I would love it. I doubted him at first but he knows me too well, I love it!” Game, set and match. The boy got up and got off the train at the next station. Feeling like I was off the hook, I went back to my book, only to hear another voice appear in front of me.
That was so funny what happened with that guy! Haha hi I’m Stewart.”
Now, what I did next is something I will never forget because it was the most panicked of the panic responses I’ve ever had. I looked up from my book, looked this boy straight in the eyes and meowed. Twice.

I was once out grocery shopping at my local shopping centre when I was approached by a guy. I had my headphones in (I like to put on a podcast whenever I’m doing pretty much anything.) And was walking around the bakery department of Coles when he appeared. I was wearing active wear and (at the time) had very clear skin and eyelash extensions, so I looked a lot more alive and nice than I do on other days you may catch me outside my house. He had a great voice, a bit like Osher Günsberg, something I found wildly attractive (If you don’t know the Australian radio and TV legend that is Andrew G, please google him ASAP and listen to his podcast Better Than Yesterday with Osher Günsberg. It will change your life. I promise you that 🙂 ) and was pretty nice to look at. It was one of those weird movie scene style moments where we both reached for something at the same time – a box of cinnamon donuts. I smiled at him and tried to grab my doughnuts in peace, but we both went to reach for another box, to give the other person that box, and instead again went for the same one. I smiled and said he could take that one and I’d take that one, and hurried off to grab the rest of my items. We then passed each other in the pasta row, as I grabbed a box of penne, and then finally met again in the flour aisle as I went to buy pizza flour. He smiled at me, and tried to start a conversation, possibly not recognizing that I had my headphones in for a reason. As he said his hello, the podcast I was listening to became extremely funny. (If you’re looking for a podcast to listen to when you’re going about your life, a few good recommendations are Jensen and Holes – Murder Squad, Punch Up the Jam, My Favourite Murder, Complete Drivel with Christian Hull, Gilmore Guys, Jenna and Julien and Mum Says My Memoir is a Lie.)
Anyway, my podcast became funny as Christian Hull told a story I wasn’t expecting to hear, and I burst out laughing as I turned to say hello to him. He didn’t seem to understand what was so funny about the way he said hello, and I didn’t want to tell him the story I was listening to, as it was quite inappropriate for a supermarket.
If you ever see this, I certainly did find you attractive, and I am so sorry!

The last story actually takes place on a date I have already written about on this blog (See The One Who “Wasn’t Ready.” To connect stories.) I was sitting at Arbory in the Melbourne CBD waiting for Logan to come back from the bathroom when a guy approached me. I was wearing a footy jersey for Logan’s team as we had been to a game earlier in the night to support his team, and then gone out for drinks to commiserate the epic loss we had witnessed. I was sitting there sipping my beer, looking over the river and the city when he appeared by the table.
“Soooo is that your boyfriend?” he smirked at me, nodding his head towards the toilets, pulling a seat out ready to sit with me with his drink. Now, I understand having balls and wanting to talk to someone attractive in public, but I also don’t understand how you could be so forward with someone who was clearly there with someone else. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m a very straight shooting, no tolerance for bullshit kind of person, and considering I was really starting to like Logan at the time, I didn’t want him sitting there flirting with me when I thought I had a good thing going with Logan. I decided to play with this boy’s ego.
No, that’s my husband.” I said, keeping my left hand planted firmly under my leg under the table. I smiled at him and waited for it to dawn on him. As the wheels started to turn in his head, I decided to add insult to injury.
It’s our first night out since the baby.” At that he looked at my stomach (which was heavily concealed by layers of baggy clothing) and then Kath and Kel style speed walked away from me.
Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out, bud.

The One With the High School “Relationships.”

So, as some of you may have seen, I am very excited to announce that I have branched out beyond the world of bad dates, and am now also writing for a good friend of mine – Callum. There is an official announcement with more information and a link to his blog further down in my blog feed, but in keeping with the theme of this blog and as a big warm welcome to him, this is the story two of Callum’s bad date experiences – both of which I was directly involved in. So, let’s get started shall we?

Callum and I have known each other since year 7, and over the years have bonded over our affinity for Gilmore Girls, our mutual love of books (namely Stephen King), the experiences we’ve shared through our schooling life and our passion for writing. Back in 2010 when we first met, we were placed in the same class and quickly fell into the same friendship group when one of his friends decided he had a crush on one of my friends. Thus, the group was formed. The group contained myself and my “boyfriend” (let’s call him Grant), Callum and his “girlfriend” (re-named Madeline for this story), our friend who wasn’t “dating” anyone at the time (Thomas), and the couple who started it all – Paris and Doyle (Hey Gilmore Girls fans 😉 I see you.)

Callum and Madeline started dating just after Paris and Doyle did, and so our group became tighter and seemingly unbreakable as we did everything together. How long did this last, I hear you asking? Well. There’s a reason I put quotation marks around the words dating and boyfriend/girlfriend before, because none of us actually went on dates, and it lasted maybe a week for them each time they dated (Grant and I lasted a little longer and seemed to be the constant in this first story.) Callum and Madeline had a good run, but Madeline soon asked me for help as she could not figure out how to break up with Callum. Having seen me do this exact thing for my, soon to be, two best friends (who will remain anonymous), she asked if I would give it a crack for her. Big yikes.
So I sat a slightly confused Callum down and told him she just couldn’t see it going any further, but I did it with my usual flare.
When a man and a woman love each other very very much…” I began, telling Callum that this was not one of those stories, and that Madeline was actually ending it and just too nervous to say so. Ouch. (Sorry Callum!!) Callum was very understanding, took a moment and was soon ok, and with that I thought it was over. But then, within a few days, Paris asked me to do the same for her and Doyle. 12 years old and already with 2 successful breakups under my belt, I thought I was the perfect person to do this as I was close enough to both sides to justify a private chat with Doyle, and knowledgable enough on the art of breaking hearts I sat him down and explained that it just wasn’t working with Paris and that I was sorry but this was it for them. Doyle took this a lot harder, though soon recovered (no use moping around after someone you were with for little over a week, if you ask me.) And with that, I well and truly thought this was the end of my breaking up days, hoping that the only ones I would be involved in from then on would be my own. This is the part of the story though where the narrator would normally say something like This was not the end of those days for her, but rather the beginning of a long line of broken hearts.

Year 7 camp came around and everyone was as excited as could be. We loaded into the bus listening to our iPod shuffles and playing MASH (AKA – PRAM where you predict what your future will hold.) It was on this bus journey that both Madeline and Paris confided in me that they wanted to get back with Callum and Doyle respectively and that they hadn’t enjoyed the few days between me breaking them up and now. Ugh, teenagers, am I right? We arrived at our lunch stop and they all got back together as I sat and listened to love songs and pictured Grant as Zac Efron. BUT THEN on that final day of that very same school camp Madeline and Paris, mere days after getting back together it had become too much and they were looking to employ my breakup guru services once again. With a heavy heart, and while waiting in line for the giant swing, I cornered Doyle first and got the breakup over and done with as quickly as I could before moving on to Callum. My conversation with Callum, who I’ve always been quite real with, went as follows.

Me – “So… Do you remember last time we had a chat like this?”
Callum – “Yeah?”
Me – “Yeah…” **nods head, gives sad smile**
Callum – “Oh… Ok…”
End scene.

We move on to the next relationship he was in, with a girl we still refer to as “Everybody’s Favourite Ex-Girlfriend” and the on-again-off-again plague of 2011. To abbreviate and try and cut down on how often I have to type that phrase, I’ll refer to her as EFEG.
EFEG and I were “friends” in that way you’re friends with people you’re stuck in a room with 8 hours a day, 5 days a week – surface level, superficial and short lived. Now, for a while I had known EFEG and Callum had a crush on each other, so when it eventuated that they became “boyfriend and girlfriend”, it wasn’t a huge surprise. Their obvious differences would boil over in only a matter of time, and once again I would take Callum’s side, only this time I would help HIM deliver the final blow to their relationship. While I liked EFEG (to an extent) I was more than happy to offer my services to a now emotionally exhausted Callum (their relationship was turbulent after all.) Her behaviour had even started wearing thin on me, and I wasn’t the one “dating” her.
In what must have been my favourite breakup ever, Callum handed me a letter and asked me to deliver to EFEG on his behalf – which I did with a big smile and a spring in my step. And I stood there with Madeline (who was still my friend at the time) and pretended not to watch as her heart was ripped out. Smothering a giggle and pretending to offer sympathy when she nearly kicked over a shelf of graphic novels in our school library, their relationship was over and the world felt right again.
They eventually got back together, much to my chagrin, and broke up again with a little help from the heartbreak whizz. This cycle continued a few times until one day they called it quits for good, and I slept easy that night knowing I could cross off 2 of my best clients from the growing list of people asking me to help them end relationships they didn’t know how to end.

Not one to usually take sides, I did make a point during their breakups that I was going to remain friends with Callum regardless of her feelings towards him and, probably much to the annoyance of EFEG, we are still friends 9 and a half years later. Neither of us will ever know what she thinks of us and this situation, as we have both removed ourselves completely from her life. I did it shortly after their last breakup, seeing no reason to be nice to someone who holds a grudge against you for being friends with someone after a teenage breakup, and Callum did it after she moved away from our school a year or so later. I guess that goes to show, some friendships from high school aren’t made to last – but some are. And hell, we’re even writing for a blog together now.