On my Tinder profile, it says that I like “Brunch and Dogs”. I only really started to appreciate brunch in it’s full glory four years ago when my boyfriend at the time introduced me to Marsden Village Café in Karori. We went there every couple of weeks when we lived together and it had the perfect brunch menu for those who liked big breakfasts and rugby. We also loved that it was dog-friendly – I literally used to dream of going to brunch with my future dog ( big life goals, I know). Last year when I started using Tinder, I used to take Tinder potentials to MVC for a third date only if they were considered worthy of my favourite brunch establishment. Sadly, the ownership of the Café changed twice since I started going there four years ago, the creamy mushrooms became less creamy and more grilled and they changed the type of hash browns they used. After the last time I went with … I can’t even remember who, I decided that it was time I closed that chapter of my brunch life. Fruitless dates there with lacklustre banter and grilled mushrooms proved inferior to those fond big breakfast memories once shared with the guy who went halves on a dog with me.
Date #2 and I chatted on the first night that I reinstated Tinder. He was a self-proclaimed fellow brunch lover from London and needed to find some good places to eat as he had only been back in Wellington for a few weeks.
Ah, fresh meat! Delightful. This means that it is highly likely I haven’t been near any of his friends. When I’m stalking future prey on Facebook, seeing mutual friends and recognising one from an intimate grinding moment on the dancefloor at The Establishment always somewhat dampens the mood. I responded to Date#2 with
Melissa: “If you like dogs, then you can take me out for brunch over the weekend. I’m Melissa. I’m employed and not too weird”.
Date 2#: “Then brunch over the weekend it most certainly is.
Melissa: “We can resume talking over here. Or you can ask me for my number. What do you do?”
I clearly lied about not being weird. Over text, Date #2 further questioned what my ulterior motive was with Tinder and I said that I was genuinely here to date which, was not a lie as it’s totally the truth. I knew that if I had mentioned that I was going on 30 dates in 30 days he may not have wanted to meet me. I couldn’t risk letting my game plan slip within 24 hours of starting the challenge.
On Friday at 2.34pm, Date#2 messaged to ask whether we were still doing brunch the following day. At 9.50pm, he messaged me again since I had not replied. I hadn’t saved his number at this point and had already forgotten his name!
On the Saturday morning after I finished some work early preparing campaigns, I realised I had to get a date sorted for the day and vaguely remembered Brunch boy from London. I finally messaged him back at 11.14am and asked if 12pm would suit, at Arthurs on Cuba Street. Date #2 replied exactly 10 minutes later saying that he was walking back from the gym but that he should be home in 10/15 minutes and that 12pm was good for him.
I ensured that I was running late to pay homage to all my former Tinder lovers and pushed the date time to 12.15pm since I wanted to kill time by going to Animates. After a good 45 minutes of browsing, Richie and I departed with $27.86 worth of dog treats and off we drove to Cuba Street.
I chose Arthurs as it was dog-friendly and had an English breakfast influence to it so that I could appease my date (Plus I didn’t want to spoil Pre-Fab for myself on Date #2 if it was utter shit). By the time I got there at an appropriate Melissa time, it was 12.30pm and my date was already sitting down outside waiting at a table.
First impression of Date#2 was that he probably wasn’t joking when he said he was tall as he was over 6ft 4 which made him taller than anyone I had ever been with. He had an English accent, obviously and was relatively easy to get along with. He had a good looking face, a kind smile and a full head of hair ( with what I could see!) Not skinny and erred slightly on the Dad-Bod band wagon *wolf whistles*. He lived here four years ago to work in New Zealand and loved it hence why he came back for another year. He had just got a new flat to move into and our chat mostly revolved around that and living life in New Zealand. He said that he wanted some ‘stability’ for a little while and thought that the life here was good.
Richie was immediately a fan of Date#2 as he jumped on his lap within the first five minutes and curled up on his lap. The conversation was relatively free-flowing which naturally tipped in his favour when he admitted his Dad-bod and said that he loved dogs. I ordered the Big Breakfast, like the tiny small Blonde girl I am and 6ft 4 Date#2 ordered Eggs Benedict, which came out with Eggs, Bok Choy and Crumpets. When it came to the end of the meal and we walked towards the cashier, I got my wallet out intending to pay (because I’m Beyonce) to find that he already took care of it. Like a perfect English Gent.
Because everything was going well we ended up walking up to the Pukeahu War Memorial to check it out and walk Richie before it started raining. This is where the date started to take a turn…
We were heading up towards the inside part of the War Memorial when I saw a friend from school with her beautiful newborn and her entire extended family. Because I hadn’t seen her in a while, we stopped and had a chat where I cooed over her new baby. When it came to introductions, I introduced Date #2 as “My friend, *insert Date#1‘s real name*” without even realising. Date #2 took it really well and still shook the hands of everyone he had just met and didn’t correct me in front of them. As soon as they were out of ear shot however he said:
Date#2: “You so owe me!”
Melissa: [Assuming it was because I introduced him to people he didn’t know in the first place!] “Oh, I’m sorry!”
Date#2: “Who’s *insert Date#1‘s name*?”
After that, I came clean about my Tinder challenge and admitted that it was the name of the guy who I previously dated the night before. Date#2 took it pretty well, probably because I later found out that he assumed I was joking about the Tinder challenge at the time.
Still, surprisingly the date was going really well. As we walked back towards my car, Richie paused to do what dogs do and took a massive shit. Usually, when my dog poops it’s embarrassing in the sense that immediately afterwards I have to pick up warm poo during a hot date, but it’s part of owning a dog and I try not to resent it too much. This time however, little Richie happened to get diarrhea and I had no choice but to attempt to pick it up. It was sloppy, runny and by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to pick up. Ridiculous, strongly scented and mildly unfortunate.
The weather started to pack it in after this particularly bleak moment and Date#2 had said during brunch that he needed to buy a new bed. I offered to drive him to Thorndon due to the weather and offered him advice since I had recently bought a new bed within the last month. Neither of us were really that keen to round of the date at that point and I felt obliged to recover from my memory lapse and Richie’s explosive diarrhea. So for the next two hours I ended up accompanying my Tinder date on his bed shopping afternoon. We walked around different bed shops and lay on different beds , finalising the four that we thought were good on the price and comfort.
Three hours and forty-five minutes late into the date and on the way back to the last furniture shop where he decided he wanted to buy his bed, he leaned in for the kiss in the Barina. Naturally I obliged since a) he wasn’t horrible b) he was really nice and c) because of my overwhelming commitment to this blog! His nose was cold and a little runny but overall the kiss was sweet. Clearly not as passionate at the night before, but a kiss that suggested he had enjoyed the time we had just spent together.
After he bought his bed, I offered to drive Date#2 home as my best friend was coming around later that evening and he had a night planned full of supporting ARSENAL and going to the rugby. He invited me around to his apartment as I dropped him off, to which I declined (because I’m a classy bitch) but made the arrangement to him again the following Saturday night, where the night ended in drunken tears and my spew. Consecutively and at the time.
I’m all class.