Date #18 Breakfast Coffee with a Bodybuilder

When you decide to go on 30 Tinder Dates in 30 Days, you figure out really quickly what your type is because you’re swiping through the entire single population of Wellington.

“Oooh, older, light hair with a Dad-bod? Yes please!”. 

Having such a type limits potential Future Boyfriends, and you may find yourself with slightly younger versions of your Dad, whose ‘Dad-bod’s might correlate to health problems later in life. Throw in a few inappropriate jokes and a German accent and I may as well just date my Dad.

Hallo, nice to meet you. You look just like my daughter.

With that a very real fear in the back of my mind (I’m pretty sure that most girls fear they’ll end up with a guy exactly like her Dad) I decided to broaden my horizons.

This wasn’t a token effort, despite my relatively relaxed attitude and low standards for Tinder prospects. I had to at least find them attractive and my rule was that I found them appealing enough to go on a date with them regardless of whether I had a 30 day quota or not.

Enter Date #18 who was the oldest Tinder date I’ve dated to date.

Get it?

Yet it still felt as though the age gap wasn’t a deal-breaking barrier. He had a kid, was from the Hutt and according to his photos, was a body builder. So basically, he was still similar to my Dad, with the exception of the whole six-pack thing.

I’m not sure whether I was attracted to the idea of going out with a body builder, but I definitely had a crush on Johnny Bravo growing up and I was open minded to someone having a rock-hard version of a Dad-Bod. Who’s to stand in the way of potential true love with someone who is guaranteed to spend at least two hours a day leaving you alone honing his hot bod?

You look pretty…I look pretty…why don’t we go home and stare at each other?

Initial contact pleasantly surprised me, as Date #18 didn’t succumb to this horrible stereotype that I unfortunately was beginning to create in my head that built guys would have personalities like Johnny Bravo. Date #18 seemed sweet, was employed and loved dogs and kids. His kid looked cute in photos too, so at least I knew in advance that he would bring some cute genes to mix with my womb.

That was so weird. I’m sorry.

Every time I go to the gym (so, twice in my entire life), I see these guys at the gym who have conversations with each other about their massive traps and I’m like:

What’s a trap?

With all of these factors in the back of my mind, Date#18 and I agreed to meet for coffee. He suggested Memphis Belle as it was his local and we confirmed a Saturday morning time of 11am. It wasn’t until the morning that we met that I realized I needed to wear something that hid my fat six/overweight eight frame that was growing rapidly with all of the free beverages and free food I was going through.. Date #18 was also a personal trainer, just to add a slight amount of pressure. I went for tight jeans and a puffer jacket to pretend like it was made to look as though I had a cute face, chubby waist, thick legs, in shape. I’m not usually one to get insecure but for someone who puts a lot of effort into their figure made me realize why I’m in preference of the Dad-bod.

Fun fact: Missy Elliot is 44 now.

I was running slightly late because of my slight outfit insecurity and ended up being at Memphis Belle before Date #18. One of my favourite things about having a dog is pretending like you’re never alone in public. I ordered a Trim Flat White and sat down on a wriggly chair, at a chipped wriggly table outside Shot Shack whilst I mourned my 17 year old self.

Screen Shot 2015-11-14 at 3.59.46 PM
I’d rather see you up there shaking dat thang.

When Date #18 finally showed up around seven to eight minutes after me, he sort of gestured to the Barista to demonstrate that he wanted his usual, before asking me if I wanted anything. He used some sort of G-Unit hand gesture to signal this, which I wouldn’t usually relate to ordering a coffee.

We decided to move to the dirty hipster couches right outside the door and I started to realise we hadn’t engaged in much conversation other than the basic facts. It’s hard communicating with so many fucking Tinder potentials and talking to at least 80 out of 500. Getting past the basic greeting with me was anyone’s success story since I refused to communicate with anyone who said anything douchey, boring or weird.

Job check, Hot bod check, anything else?

I won’t lie, Date #18 was slightly fresh, but a lot more eloquent than I expected. For one, he didn’t seem to have a comb on him to manicure his cartoon quiff and he didn’t really seem to be overly indulged in himself. Great sign. He had grey bits in his beard and I joked that it looked like Richie’s. We talked about Tinder, life in the Hutt, and my dog. He was also a big fan of dogs and had a pitbull that is currently with his ex. He didn’t really bag her in front of me, though it seemed like it was an incredibly messy breakup that I respected him for ( not bagging her out I mean, not for a messy breakup!) He loved his son, his friends and his job, it seemed. I was getting to the point where I would start saying douchey things to see if he would succumb but he didn’t seem to take the bait.

Me: “OMG do you train girls that you find are hot????”

Date #18 “Haha, sometimes”

Urgh, Come on.

Although I wasn’t overly into it, I felt like he wasn’t either. I imagine this guy usually gets with teenage bottle-blondes who wear a lot of tight dresses despite being in his thirties. That, or my puffer jacket hid my chest and he was disappointed that my cleverly angled Tinder photos were clearly a ploy. Sorry babes!

I wasn’t completely off the mark with my assumptions, Date #18 must have only planned an hour for our encounter as at 12pm his friends rocked up to pick him up for some sort of sport in the afternoon and parked next to Dreamgirls yelling at him. These guys all seemed like they were 10 years too old to be driving crappy cars and living for the weekend but I guess that’s what YOLO was invented for.

Without being too critical, I was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t actually Johnny Bravo, but I don’t trust a guy who spells his name wrong for whatever reason. I can’t deal!

Why is there more vowels in your name to prove a point?

I ended up running into him a few days later when I was meeting up with a girl where he suggested we needed to catch up again, then the next weekend too whilst I was in da clubs with another guy from Tinder. Turns out, he’s a bouncer on the weekend but let me in anyway despite holding hands with another guy. Thanks for the coffee and for letting me skip the queue!

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One thought on “Date #18 Breakfast Coffee with a Bodybuilder

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