First of all I’d like to apologise for my silence over the past month, I’ve been VERY busy and alas, dating fell way down on the priority list! I’ve been on holiday (a cruise around the Caribbean, casj) and while there were several members of male staff that were suitable dating candidates, it’s a fireable offence to do so – meaning unfortunately, I had to steer clear.
So I’m giving you a throwback people! Though this is slightly off topic as it’s about the post-date happenings rather than the date itself! So, I know I moan dating in London is hard, but it does have its advantages :the main one being, that if your date goes atrociously (as many of mine have) it doesn’t matter because you are never, ever going to see that person again. The likelihood of you being in the same place at the same time in this huge city is slim to none.
Or so I thought.
Let me take you back to a time that seems many moons ago, when I was a fresh-faced university student: young, hopeful and so naïve as to how cruel post-university life would be… anyway. I went on a Tinder date with an Australian guy. The date itself was great – he was tall, nice looking, chatty, and I’m a total sucker for an accent, so he ticked all the boxes. However, he was head chef at a super fancy restaurant on the Kings Road and he never got time off – this Saturday night date was a rare occasion! After the date we chatted back and forth for a bit and a few weeks later arranged to meet on a bank holiday Monday. Monday came… and Monday went – with no date… he was great, but not so great that I was gonna double text – I have far more pride than that.
Now let’s scoot forward a couple of months to another bank holiday Monday. My BFF/roomie and I worked at Byron Hamburgers in South Ken and that day, had the longest shifts of our lives. It was just the two of us manning the floor that day – to give you an idea of how busy it was; we ran out of burgers. Seriously. We finally closed up the restaurant; I was so frazzled my hair looked like I’d been dragged through a bush, the bags under my eyes were so big you could do your weekly grocery shopping in them and the 14 hour shift had left me wearing a fantastic new eau-de-burg fragrance.
As we traipsed towards the bus stop my BFF sniggered ‘Check out the pda!’ she pointed to a couple who were eating each others faces off on some steps.
‘Ewww that’s so gross.’ I said as I followed her direction ‘You think people would save it for the bed- ooooooooohmygod that’s Aussie guy.’ I grabbed my BFFs arm and almost frog marched her towards the bus stop ‘Just look down, keep your eyes on the floor.’ I demanded. Pleasedon’tseemepleasedon’tseemepleasedon’t-
I wheeled around and put on my best surprised face ‘Oh my gosh hi!’ I replied as nonchalantly as possible – despite my voice being a few octaves above average. ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ We hugged awkwardly as he tried to avoid the collection of pens that were sticking out of my hair (it’s a really great place to store biro’s when you’re waitressing).
‘So…ur…this is my friend…’ he waved in the direction of where the girl he had just been snogging sat, with a poisonous look on her face.
‘And ur… this is mine!’ my BFF waved (you don’t catch us making out in indiscreet places I thought)
After that thrilling conversation, all words failed me as I was just overwhelmed by the cringey awkwardness of the situation.
‘Daisy,’ my BFF grabbed me ‘Our bus is here!’ Thank God. We said a hasty goodbye and ran on to the bus. Unfortunately it wasn’t actually our bus and was in fact taking us in completely the opposite direction, but my BFF said we needed an escape route. And she was right. It was worth the 2 hour journey home.
But, my friends. The story doesn’t end there. No, no.
I’m at work (again) and after returning from my break, the restaurant had filled up completely. And who do I see sitting by the window? Yes, you guessed it. Aussie guy. With another girl – this guy must be a serial dater. Thankfully he wasn’t in my section and had his back to me, so I managed to avoid him the entire duration of his meal. There was a near miss when he passed me to go to the bathroom. I had to do an Elle Woods bend and snap manoeuver (though it was all bend and no snap because after I fake dropped the napkin on the floor, I hid underneath the safety of the table until the coast was clear – pretty smooth I thought).
That was until the end of the meal when Aussie guy and his date were leaving. I had made the mistake of telling a colleague of mine about the situation and, like a 10 year old, he thought it would be funny to shove me in to him as he was leaving.
‘Daisy, hi!’ Aussie guy grinned.
‘Hey!’ I replied ‘Were you eating here? I totally didn’t see you!’ (the shrill voice returned)
‘Yeah, I thought that was you under the table.’ – Damn. Clearly not as smooth as I thought.
‘Did you enjoy your meal?’ I asked, for want of anything better to say.
‘Yeah.’ He replied. ‘She’s just a friend’ Uh-huh. Got lotsa friends don’t ya pal. I nodded and the silence stretched between us. And I knew what I was going to say. I couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of my mouth. In that totally British fashion of saying something you don’t mean just to avoid awkwardness I said ‘we should definitely meet up some time!’ I was dying inside.
‘Oh…’ he paused ‘Well, my visa got declined so I’m going back to Aus at the end of the month.’ – I was stunned. I’ve heard some excuses in my time but I mean really. Getting deported seemed a little far fetched.
Anyway. Moral of the story: If you don’t want to see your date again, try to make sure they get deported.