The One With Too Much Alcohol

How It Happened:

So I met this guy on Tinder and this was actually a second date (believe it or not). The first was just a lunch time coffee which I didn’t feel the need to write about – nothing exciting happened and I promise you, this one is SO much more entertaining. But he asked me out again (result) and I said yes and um… here’s what happened.

The ‘Date’:

It was a Saturday night where I rushed straight from work; the plan was to go for dinner. By the time I met him breakfast was a distant memory and lunch had been non-existent; I was famished! We met for a drink first and I was really hoping liquid would prevent my stomach from eating itself or making embarrassingly loud gurgling noises. Now, we all know that drinking on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster; this date was confirmation of that. After one drink, I was already feeling pretty tipsy – which was when he informed me he was taking me to Inamo, a fancy Japanese restaurant. I was flattered by this of course but the main problem that flashed through my mind was that I don’t like Japanese food. The images I had of a juicy burger or an enormous pizza faded away (I hoped that my smile didn’t too, because that would’ve been extremely rude.)

Obviously I wasn’t going to tell him that I had a dislike for oriental cuisine, so I was just going to have to deal with it! Inamo was super busy when we arrived so we had to wait – clearly this meant we just HAD to have another drink. So by the time I sat at the table, I was already starting to go quite cross-eyed – which is when I was faced with another problem. Chopsticks. I tried to pass this off as a cute and endearing quality of mine but even after he showed me, I just couldn’t get the hang of it – I think an ape would have done a better job. So what I hoped was cute and endearing, probably turned out to be just plain stupid, but I soldiered on anyway because they didn’t have an alternative fork option.

My THIRD problem of the evening was the portion sizes. Now you see, I have an insatiable appetite; it can be embarrassing. I can wolf down a double cheeseburger and a side of chips and probably still have room to finish the leftovers of whoever I’m with – hell-to-the-no could I be one of those girls that orders a leafy salad and is full after three mouthfuls (I’m sure those girls are lying anyway.) Anyway, the portion sizes were miniscule. Mere mouthfuls. My fourth problem? He didn’t like dessert. What kind of weirdo doesn’t like dessert? That’s like saying you don’t like cute, fluffy puppies! And I wasn’t going to order one myself, just for him to sit there and watch me eat it. No way.

By the time we left, I was 4 drinks down and well on my way to being far too drunk for a second date, but at least he was as well. We were on Wardour Street in Soho, so headed in to O Bar, where we met a woman on her Hen Do, who brought us two more shots and a jager bomb. EACH. We were well into dangerous waters here, and now I was just in the mood to party! After an hour or so, it was time to head to our next destination. We stumbled out of the bar and what do I see in front of me? Freedom Bar. My favourite gay bar ever. And I just couldn’t resist. He didn’t really have much choice in the matter and I dragged him by the hand in to the bar. Who DOES that? Who takes a guy to a GAY BAR on their second date?

He was a little overwhelmed at first but after a few more (expensive, London priced) shots I’m sure he started to enjoy himself… The rest of the night is a little hazy but when I think hard I’m sure it involved more shots, dancing on the pole and being a total fag hag (definition: a girl that spends a lot of her time with gay men… It’s hard not to in Freedom, I frequent there a lot and you see everyone you know! No wonder I struggle meeting straight men…).

He courteously walked me to my door and I, drunkenly, invited him in. I think he thought that he was going to get lucky but I had other ideas, I got in to my jammies, zipped my onesie up tightly and passed out on the bed.


You know, it’s only until I start writing things down that I realise WHY I am single.


Needless to say, I woke up the next day with horrific demons (Definition: demons – horrific flashbacks of a post alcohol fuelled evening, of all the embarrassing things you said and did and wish you could forget that leave you cringing and hating yourself.) We went for breakfast the next morning and it was very pleasant but after that our communication just fizzled out. I wonder which it was, out of all the cringe things I did, that put him off…

No matter though, I wasn’t super keen in the end; he talked about himself far too much.


Daisy’s Date Rate:


I mean, yes it was just one entire night of embarrassment, but I must’ve had a fantastic night at the time & I didn’t spend a penny! And at least now I know how to use chopsticks – kind of.

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