Date #17: “Did you hear about the crab at the seafood disco?”
Me: “Haha, no.”
Date #17: “Pulled a muscle.”
Me: “How often has that worked for you?”
Date #17: “I can’t say it has. Have you got any good ones?”
Me: “Well I sea some potential. Not really. I rely on being female on getting me through a lot of things in life.” [Edit: this, dear reader, is what I call ‘biting sarcasm’].
Over the course of about two weeks, Date #17 told seven shocking, cringe-worthy jokes to get my attention. I guess in some cases, persistence is key to getting any sort of attention. It worked for him, as it got to the point where I felt like I at least needed to check this guy’s photos. They showed a guy eating a double scooped ice-cream wearing a Ralph Lauren top and sunglasses, a guy doing the thumbs up for the camera with a huge toothy grin and a guy on a boat with a huge beard. He told me he liked fishing during our tinder chat when I probed him regarding who he was and what he did with his life.
I wasn’t that enthused.
Our two mutual friends were also hardly anything to go off. One of them I had slept with, and the other I met when I turned up uninvited his 21st and got inappropriately White Girl Wasted, ate a lot of delicious ham and told his Mum how hot she was.
In any case, this wasn’t much to go off, but out of curiosity (and a little bit of desperation) I decided to meet with the persistent joker. I’ve gotta give credit to any guy who messages often with a little bit of substance, instead of just asking what I am up too all the time. (“Hae gurl, what up?” NO. “Hey” and “Hae” have the same amount of letters, so what’s the point?).
Anyway, Date #17 also seemed like a relatively good guy and he asked how Richie McPaw was to which my immediate response was: “Let’s go out for a drink tonight.” Even though he must have replied, I didn’t respond for a week. Good to know he was keen though.
Because I bailed on the drink I had suggested the week before, we eventually agreed on a coffee instead. I liked going on Tinder coffee dates during my lunch breaks, because it meant I didn’t have to commit much time, I got to see what the guys really looked like during day time hours with no five o’clock shadow, and I was also starting to gain weight really quickly going out for dinner and drinking every night at the expense of potential future boyfriends. Dates without food meant I didn’t have to eat painfully slowly in front of them, which takes up more time. Long Black, two equals, puh-lease!
Date #17 and I agreed to meet at Olive Cafe at 12.30, right in the middle of my scheduled lunch time. He suggested the location and because I’ve only ever had good coffee with good company there, I’ve gotta give kudos to anyone who suggests a Wellington venue with no hipster wanker vibe or pretentiousness.
Needless to say, I was being tardy/lazy and sent him a text to say that I was
“Rubbing a few minutes late”. Whoops. He at least had the courtesy to ask what I would like to drink before I got there so that it would be on the table ready. (Take note Date #6!) As it took me around ten minutes to walk up to the middle of Cuba Street I was only able to afford him 20 or so minutes which technically counts as a date, but barely.
Date #17 was rugged around the edges, in a good way. He had a wicked smile and a big bushy beard. He seemed like the type who went fishing and diving on the weekend followed by getting high during sunset. He was so relaxed and had a relatively good job in construction and was a few years older than me. He was hilarious despite the cringy Tinder jokes but I could definitely tell that I wouldn’t be his type long-term. He’d find me high-strung, I’d find him vague and ultimately, I hate fishing and can’t swim.
We were having a good laugh and I was stoked we weren’t eating since this was a sit-down classy lunch place. I awkwardly requested a take away cup when the coffee was ordered so that I could make a quick getaway, free coffee in tow. I gave him a bit of grief about his tragic jokes and spent a majority of the time dishing it out to him that it wasn’t a successful way of pulling. He agreed that it wasn’t the best, but used me turning up as a testament to what his shit jokes have done.
About 16 minutes in, I dropped the bombshell that I had to go back to work. Truth was, I was meeting my co-worker to buy some dry-shampoo at the make up sale since the day before when I was meeting the Canadian I found out when I got there that the building had flooded courtesy of the Victoria Street development.
The date ended with an awkward hug, and a laugh. He even asked me out on the Friday evening for drinks at Dragonfly where we hung out for a couple of hours, had heaps of rounds (instigated by him) before insisting we pay half and sticking his tongue down my throat.
We didn’t hang out again after that. He moved to Mexico.
