Date #16 Drinks…and then Dinner with a guy from the Hutt

I had planned on a quiet one for this particular Wednesday. This dating game was tiresome. Do you all even know how hard it is to find casual slutty work attire (slasual dress) to then have to socialise after work and attempt to flirt?

Nice to meet you

I’m definitely not an expert at guys or dating. All I seem to know in life is how to talk too much and drink too much, too quickly.  I seem to open up the second I meet a guy, refuse to put out and then wonder why they think I’m crazy.

Date #16 was a friend of a friend who’s friend I had already pashed when he came over once to watch Fight Club. I was 17 and if it wasn’t already obvious with me writing this blog in the first place, it didn’t work out. I remember meeting Date #16 at a pre-drinks for the races, with my fake I.D, white blonde hair and Dove overly-summer glowed skin.

We had talked a few times over Tinder having previously matched a few times. He was a couple of years older than me and went to a catholic boys school. From memory, he always seemed to be one of those guys who had a girlfriend, but judging by his current Tinder status, he was available, and I was on the lookout for new prey.

The conversation was quick, fast and to the point. We must have had some banter during a previous Tinder life.

Date #16: “Hello again… so what are your motives? Trying to catch out a boyfriend or a friend’s boyfriend? Haha

Me: “Take me out and I might tell you. In saying that I don’t put out on the first date”

Date #16: “Sounds like a deal. After work something? Or the weekend?

Me: “After work sounds good. Where are you based?

We agreed to meet at Matterhorn, which is a relatively chilled out establishment where you can dine or drink. I’ve only ever had consumed their gin and tonics. I had been there a few times on dates with guys who were usually way older than me, so it could be widely used as a stomping ground for older guys to pass the time with younger girls and then after a few weeks or months, wonder why they’re on different levels.


P.S You had good reason to be mad at me that night. I wasn’t just flirting with the bartender, I pashed him outside the bathroom at Matterhorn. You know you love me xoxo Gossip Girl

We agreed to meet there at 5.30pm after work. I had every intention of arriving on time, since I had left work at quarter past five. Naturally, I got distracted by the huge sale sign outside Typo and ended up spending fifteen minutes looking at Coachella themed stationary for tweens at pocket-money prices. Whoops!

“Sorry I’m late, I was looking at pens with feathers on them”

When I finally got there, Date #16 had patiently waited for me and hadn’t even ordered a drink. Obviously my stationary perusing wasn’t keeping the guy from staying hydrated for too long, I was simply adding to the mystery that is me by being courteously late (10 minutes and under). I ordered a gin and tonic, he ordered a beer and we started off the conversation with our mutual love of the Hutt and other common grounds – not that there was lots of that.

I planned on having a relatively early night. Mainly because this dating game was becoming more tedious and I was having the best time ever by myself.

After two drinks and reasonably B grade chat (not enough to get him laid, only A’s get the A) he suggested the idea of dinner. I was hungry and had no real food plans outside the fantasy ofBurger King, so we settled on Mexico, since it was close and a classy first date location forclassier-than-usual Hutt people. I had to move my car from the parking lot so Date #16 got to witness my terrible parallel parking skills as a bonus.

Mexico, in my mind is a bit of a funny place. It’s an Auckland restaurant in a Wellington location with a Wellington crowd where the music is too loud on a Sunday night with a lot of darkness and red hues covering the place. I’ve been there on three dates with three different guys. Two out of three of the guys I went with ended up profusely sweating due to the spicy fried chicken. Gross. I think I slept with one of them after dinner there one night regardless… I don’t know, I can’t really remember.

The fried chicken was good though. That I do remember.

I’m somewhat hesitant to regurgitate what was said during this date. Some of it was so cringe-worthy. He was impressed that I ordered a beer and I got ‘points’ for that. We ended up playing a silly game where we got date points for things that we liked about each other… putting that into words makes me more embarrassed as I type this. What is my life? Why am I such a loser? Is this why no one loves me? Date #16 was lovely though. I felt like he was boyfriend material. Not necessarily my kind of boyfriend, but he gave off that kind of boyfriend vibe. I don’t know how to explain this in words, it was just a vibe.

We started to transition into the friend-zone towards the end of the night. I think because he was playing it cool and I was just on automatic flirt-mode where I transitioned from outrageously forward, to overly-forward-clearly-putting-them-in-the-friend-zone, to being that girl that your friend is currently sleeping with so you maintain cool conversation and stick to the basic facts. I was being really open with this guy since he was cool with the idea of 30 Days of Tinder and I kinda felt like he wasn’t fazed that this wouldn’t progress into anything more. I paid for dinner to win against the points system. It was a $50 or $60 something ploy that I paid for to get some feminist snaps.

Holla at me sister

He send me a text the following Monday asking how my weekend was.

He sent me a text the following Monday asking how I was and that my mutual friend mentioned something.

I must have forgotten to text back. My bad

Date #15 Half-Way Coffee with a Ginger Canadian

I love Canadians. I love how accepting they are as people and how chilled out they are, generally speaking. Canada has mooses, pretty parliaments, polar bears and maple syrup. I’ve never been there, but I like to interact with Canadians to make up for this minor discrepancy and I always ask them to say “out and about in my awesome car.” It’s so cool. Some of the best people come from Canada.

I’ll never go
What do you mean?

Enter Date #15. We matched during my hungover Sunday afternoon and because I am extremely lazy and forward, I gave him my number after two Tinder messages which revealed that he was Canadian and relatively okay looking.

Usually it’s a huge warning sign if any one claims to be a foreign traveller on Tinder only here for a ‘few days’. They’re not here to wine and dine, needless to say.

Anyway, like I said, I was holding Canadians in high regard, (possibly due to my Sunday night) and Date#15 texted me on the Monday morning asking how my day was. Naturally, I didn’t reply because I was busy chilling with #14 the Dark Horse. #15 followed up that night with a “Hey still keen for tonight?” I made up some excuse about going home due to illness, but really I was just exhausted from the night before.

Call me if you need clarification, Mum

I messaged him the next morning and asked if he was free to meet that day. This was awesome; we were only about 5 messages balls-deep and already sorting out a time. My kinda guy. We agreed to meet at 12.30pm on Cuba Street and walk up to Hangar together. He had heard that place was good and I was yet to do a Tinder and or any other kind of date there as of yet.

Before the date I was buying tights from the Haus of G on Cuba (has anyone tried them? They’re so good!) and he was faffing around running late. So he CALLED me. I hadn’t saved his number but he told me he was outside Wisebuys on Dixon Street.  When we finally saw each other I was mildly disappointed in myself for giving my number to him without seriously analysing any of his photos. Oops.

Date #15 was average height, of average build with strawberry blonde hair and ginger facial hair. He dressed like a nomadic white supremacist with a massive grey trench coat jacket and Doc Marten like shoes. He wasn’t bad looking. We greeted with an awkward hug and he smelled like homelessness and stale smoke. I wondered if he’d had a shower since arriving in New Zealand a couple of days ago.

… I don’t think he was just using Tinder to ‘meet’ new people.

But he was nice, although he had weak chat and was extremely quiet, which always goes down well with me since I’m so shy. After the short walk up to Hangar, we were seated for a fucking coffee and I realised that instead of getting accompanied back to work via an easy walk with minimal chat, I was in it for the long haul of at least fifteen minutes. Gutted.

This is going to be fun.

I found out Date #15 was a traveller who had very few travel stories. He was either shy or scared of me. I assumed both. He was a carpenter by trade and he was travelling by himself . He acted slightly aloof on the date — not in an endearing way though, in a dumb, your-chat-is-shit kinda way.

Because the conversation was pretty bleak and his facial expressions were minimal, I thought it’d be funny to make the time go quicker by telling him stories about my sex life and my Tinder challenge. I needed something to fill the conversational black hole that he’d plunged us into, and the idea of telling him stories about my life and insecurities was unappealing, so I thought that telling him stories that made me sound like a Hot Mess rather than a Crazy Bitch was the best route to take.

Verbal diarrhoea proceeded. I had ordered a long black to drink quickly and after fifteen minutes of listening to my own voice and hearing appreciative grunts to prove that he was listening, I mentioned that I needed to buy some dry shampoo at one of those heavily-discounted perfume sales. I quickly got up to pay for our drinks because by this stage I was 100% sure that he needed to spend all the money he had on cleanliness.

The Emotional Stages Of Online Shopping Addiction In GIFs photo 9
Do you even know how expensive Batiste is in New Zealand?

I could tell that this guy was having a good time and anticipated great things between us, even though I told him that I talk up a huge game when I’m drunk, fall asleep and never put out.

After we walked up to the discounted perfume sale for Batiste bargains, we said goodbye and out-of-the-blue he went in for the kiss. It was so weird, we weren’t exactly the best of friends and this wasn’t a smooth-sailing date that was going to end up in a pash-fest.


Still, Date #15 seemed to obviously think the date went well and he messaged me two hours later to say:

Date #15: “We should smash a bottle of red.”

Me: “When?”

Date #15: “Tonight.”

Me: “I can’t tonight!!!”

Date #15: “Haha it’s alright.”

The next day, at 11.37am (seriously, why why why was I still on his mind?) he messaged me again:

Date #15: “Hey just curious of something…”

Me: “Yeah?”

Date #15: “If you are on a 30 dates kinda thing what are you after?”

Me: “I’m not looking for anything but looking for everything.”

Date #15: “Ok that makes sense.”

He messaged me a few more times after that but given my one word replies, I guess he finally got the picture and I assume he’s since left this windy city and forgotten about me.

Jokes cuz

Date #14 Coffee with a Dark Horse

Almost half-way through this Tinder challenge I began to have this very relaxed and nonchalant attitude towards meeting strangers from my iPhone. I began to care less about my appearance, barely finding the care motivation to shave my armpits and brush my hair and there was no emoticons to describe my mental state for these dates other than the self-explanatory eggplant.

I don’t even know what is real when I swipe anymore.

Date #14 was admirable with his communication. From the get-go, he managed to get three messages deep before I would even respond.

Date #14: “How is Richie McPaw?”

2 hours later

Date #14: “You out and about in town tonight?”

2 hours later

Date #14 “Having pancakes for brunch in the morning :)”

I replied at 6:52am the next morning. I had been out the night before and woke up in a previous lover’s bed at 4.30am, refusing to stay the full night to pretend to myself that I still had some sort of dignity and drunkenly made the excuse of leaving to get home for my dog. Nailed it.

Me: “Hope that’s an knifepoint”

Me: “Invite*

Date #14: “At Neo at 11 feel free to join”

Date #14: “Pancakes were soo good. Could take you sometime if you want”

To be brutally honest, I was feeling a little bit sorry that I was being an actual shit correspondent unless the subject matter was about food and asked if he was free to meet for a coffee the next day (Monday). Sunday was a write-off and I took the day off from my 30 days of Tinder since I was absolutely hungover and slightly remorseful about my life choices. Because I was double dating on some days, I was 11 days in and two dates ahead of the game so  I spent the Sunday lying in bed before going off to a social gathering with a bottle of red that is completely off the record.

Call me if you need clarification Mum

Date #14 looked like a nice guy, but truth be told the events of the previous night overshadowed any potential Tinder date that was about to occur. My expectations were extremely low. His bio suggested that he was 6ft and liked coffee. He looked tall and had a slightly weird name. His photo selection was well-selected and showed him in the snow, in a suit and doing a hand stand. Seemingly harmless and didn’t look like a serial killer. Yay!

When I suggested we grab a coffee, he said he had class in the morning but was free around lunch time. I had this unwritten rule that I wasn’t going to date anyone at university, but Date#14 was five years older than me and I had graduated three years so he was technically well within the “mature student” category.

Two years ago my ex boyfriend summed up mature students so well

We agreed to meet at Apache at 12:30pm. Naturally I was running late and couldn’t check my Tinder since I was on the phone doing a training with one of the girls in Head Office. Poor Date #14 then saw me on the phone clearly getting my ear chewed off. I made pathetic hand gestures that I’d be off the phone soon enough. After about seven minutes of this awkward hand gestures, I introduced myself in real life and profusely apologised (wasn’t really that sorry).

Since I had chewed through half of my break doing a training for an upcoming campaign, I had 30 minutes to suss this guy out and inject some caffeine into myself. Apache was closed ( on a Monday?! Come on guys!) so I suggested we walked to go to Stories which was about 100 metres away.

Because I was super late and Date #14 was a student, I offered to get our coffees and we both ordered Long Blacks on this extremely average Wellington day. Date #14 was wearing a brown woollen jumper which is the perfect uniform for a mature student at Victoria University. He had very overgrown facial hair that wasn’t quite a beard, or a short beard that didn’t compare very well next to the Hipster on the Saturday. Regardless, he was good-looking and extremely easy to talk too.

I was overly open, informative and talking extremely fast, since I was caffeinated and in a rush. I told him about the Tinder challenge within the first four minutes of meeting and we talked ( I talked) about our Tinder experiences.

Date #14 had the best story about Tinder when I queried him of his experiences. Some girl once asked him to come around and build her bed and he, being the nice guy he is, was happy to build it for her. When the day came that she was wanting the bed made, she texted him and he went around and actually put her bed together.

Naturally I asked the obvious question as to what happened after the bed was made.

“Did you do it?!”

Yep, they did. It’s so weird learning about people you don’t even know have sex. It’s like, “I’ve just met you and now I’m picturing you naked and dry-humping a girl who can’t build a bed”. Regardless, it gave him street cred and I respected him more. I made him walk me after our coffee to get some food and offered to buy him lunch but that I’d need to eat my noodles at work. He politely declined. Eating Chef’s Palette alone possibly wasn’t his thing.

The date surprised me. Mainly because he was awesome and I enjoy guys who are upfront and say it like it is. The next day I told him how awesome it was meeting him and that he was an underdog. He sent me a few messages after that (five to be specific) before I responded with something vague and non-descriptive “Omg such good stories” before proceeding to give him the cold shoulder (without intention, he was just constantly asking me to hang out or whether I was out and I couldn’t commit!).

If he reads this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t go around for a massage, get a drink with you, have Sunday brunch or reply to the 15  others questions you asked me to my three responses over 18 messages. If it’s any consolation though, I got drunk a few Fridays ago and played Tinder on someone elses phone when she mentioned she had matched you. I highly recommended you and told her to meet you. So if you pull a pretty brunette with shoulder-length hair via Tinder without having to build her a bed, you owe me a coffee.

You’re welcome.

Date #13 Date with another Beard and his dog

When I first started this Tinder challenge, I had this overwhelming desire to go on a date with a Wellington Hipster. Big life goals, I know and so hard to find in Wellington! Where would I even find one? Little Beer Quarter? Golding’s? Dukes Carvell?

Because I’m lazy and a massive loser, its unlikely you’ll ever catch me at Meow listening to some unknown band having a good time unless I was so drunk that I thought I was listening to Kanye West. This is said with some conviction because I a) have been so drunk at Meow that I thought I was at a Kanye West concert and b) have been semi-drunk and been to an actual Kanye West concert.

“I fucked a bitch, go and find another bitch and I never trust a bitch” – Kanye West
See, we actually went to a Kanye West concert

I’m trashy yes, but at least I admit it. I haven’t spent the last eight years with cleavage spilling out of my Lippy dress and wearing heels I can’t walk in from Wild Pair to suggest that I was anything out of the ordinary. I own like three black “2 for $30 cardigans” from Glassons for fucks sake.

Upon first impressions and close inspections, Date #13 was by all sense of the word: a Wellington hipster. They’re even more hipster if they deny it.  He had dark hair, brooding eyes and a big fucking beard. Oh baby. I really feel like his Tinder photos need step-by-step analysis to ensure we’re all on the same page with what hipsters look like:

  • 1st photo: Front angle, close up of his beard taking up 40% of the camera real estate. Nailed it.
  • 2nd photo: Him wearing a denim shirt and a striped t-shirt taking a photo of the person taking his photo. Artistic… I think I get it?
  • 3rd photo: Him and a friend wearing Fay-Bans all suited up with a few buttons off his shirt. Sultry.
  • 4th photo: Him wearing a plaid shirt and blazer at a premiere of a New Zealand film. So cultured. I can’t even deal.
  • 5th photo: Him against a Subaru Leagacy on the beach. Hipster on beach?
  • 6th photo: (Seriously, can anyone even find six good photos of themselves? ) Him holding his surfboard, on a beach walking towards the camera. Hipster on surfboard?

There was something attractive about him that I couldn’t place at the time (I think its because he looks like a younger, hipster version of my Dad). He wasn’t my usual type of blonde hair, blue eyes and Dad-bods – he was tall, dark and handsome. I was borderline intimidated and didn’t want to make the first move because, like I said in my previous post, I can play a long game because I’m crazy and date 29 other people.

I’ll facebook stalk the shit out of you before you even say Hi!

Then Date#13 uploaded a moment. Of him and his dog.

No caption needed

All attempts to have played it cool were immediately thrown out the window. I LOVE guys who have dogs, I literally can’t even deal.  I used to pretend to get jealous when my dog’s baby daddy held his leash and girls would give him the eye. I’d jokingly say in a cute way, “I’m kidding” but really…

How many jokes do I need to make about being a crazy psycho bitch before people belive me?

I felt like I had landed the Tinder jackpot by matching this babin’ hipster who had a small fluffy dog. I couldn’t wait until we moved in together, got married and our dogs became best friends. Even though I was freaking out, I tried to play it cool and talk dog:

Me: “Your dog?”

Date#13: “Yep. That’s my little man!”

Me:”My dog is the second one in photos.

Date#13: “Cute. What breed is he/she? Name?”

Me: “Italian Greyhound Cross. Richie McPaw.

Date #13: “That is amazing.

We started going backwards and forwards on this chat for a wee bit talking dogs and it took five responses for Date #13 to suggest we get our dogs together. Such a cheap line, I fell for it, hard. It took two days for Date #13 to get my number and we vaguely aimed for a dog walk on our first free weekend together.

We met the following weekend, I’d immediately texted him after I was full of brunch with White Jay-Z. Date #13 was chilled and free after his shower, though he warned me he was feeling pretty shady, had gotten locked out of his flat the night before and lost his wallet. God, hipsters are so unorganised. I guess that settled who was whipping out their Westpac Debit Plus card to pay for the first date.

We organised to meet up on the waterfront near Te Papa. I had Richie and he had his little pooch too. It was a windy afternoon and I was pretty sure I was ill-dressed for the cloudy weather.

A midriff polka dot shirt with a short skirt?

Date #13 was immediately recognisable. He even walked like a hipster and kind of scuffled his way towards me in a semi-smooth way, wearing flip-flops, camel-coloured pants and a plaid shirt. He was dressed part hipster crossed with an arborist armed with a tiny fluffy dog (he did warn me that he was from the Wairarapa).

The conversation was casual and free flowing from the get-go. He was friendly and either relaxed or incredibly hung-over. I was surprised there was even an injection of personality since his face was 50% beard but he was pretty animated with his eyes and had a strong brow game.

He looked like this, without the hair.

The conversation was kept pretty light as we got coffees. Richie was yet to hump his smaller new best friend and they happily co-existed walking together. Being the responsible dog-owner that I am, I usually don’t mind having to pick up faecal matter especially when it comes from a six kilo dog, but timing is everything. Richie held our little dog-squad up and I picked up his tiny poo with two fingers and walked 10 metres in the opposite direction to put it in a bin. When I returned, Date #13 politely pointed out that there was a bin right in front of us.

Next time I throw it

We sat down at Kaffee Eis and I was paying so much attention to his dog since he (the pup)  was so chilled and we discussed dog-lyfe, the balance of parenting and having a social life. Date #13 had already done some travelling overseas in his early 20’s and we had a few connections through a marketing agency that we had both done some work through. Half-way through the coffee, I was already forgetting that this was the first time we had ever met since there was very little filter to our conversation.

The biggest, burliest man came over during our coffee and I (assuming because Richie is kind of a big deal) that he was wanting to pat my dog. But no, the big, burly man was wanting to pat the tiny dog. I literally couldn’t believe it and Date#13 was not bothered by the attention his dog was lapping up.

After about an hour the weather started to turn, it kind of stunted the date and I had to eventually get home to be taken out to dinner by a previous conquest. He suggested having a beer at Black Dog as it was dog friendly and I was having a great time with this Hipster.

This is when the conversation got deep. I admitted to him about my 30 Day Tinder challenge and he had the chilled out “you do you” attitude and didn’t seem to mind that I was going to write about him. This then escalated to a woman’s right to her own sexuality and doing whatever the fuck they wanted. He was clearly a feminist. He spoke about his love for his younger sisters and how annoying it was when guys walk past him and call his dog a ‘faggot dog’ since it’s not the dog who can respond. “He’s defenceless! He can’t stick up for himself!”. [ Edit: I found out six months later when I met some people who he used to live with and read this particular post, they enquired who his sisters were as they were under the impression he was an only child. Decided not to probe this any further as surely people don’t lie about having siblings and he had previously confirmed that they were only ‘half’ when I asked him. The mind boggles.]

Urgh, I was already crushing on Date#13 and dreading going on another date with a previous conquest in a few hours (Which I can comfortably say, since previous conquest has since deleted me on Facebook because I’ve been dating other guys and writing about it). I had this feeling though that because I was too casual and open about my Tinder situation, I felt like I had immediately got the dreaded friend-zone. I didn’t really mind all that much, it was too early in the game to get caught up in one guy. I guess though, that I just wanted to marry this feminist Hipster and have 10,000 of his babies. Or in other words, have sex with him.

Date #12 Brunch with Harry Potter

After three Tinder dates and one Silver Fox brief affair I was hung over on the Friday and sick of my own voice.

Date #12 and I talked back in early May before I deleted Tinder to be with da1 (Da1 who broke it off after 13 or so days. I was cut deep). His banter was so good that my flatmate Mon and I nicknamed him “Harry Potter” over drinks one night when this blog was in the ‘planning stages’. When we first started chatting I asked him to tell me something about himself and he said something along the lines like this:

“Umm… well. I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle since I was little. It was okay, except sometimes my cousin used to bully me and was kinda mean. Then when I was 11, a huge man came to my house on his motorbike and told me I was a wizard. Life’s been pretty good since then.”

Possibly it was because I read this over a few glasses of wine, but at the time and to this day I found this hilarious. On the banter scale, it was a 10.

When you’re dealing with guys on Tinder with shit banter, they’re either saying something too far out of left field as though they’re trying to be different, or something too basic that it doesn’t even warrant a reply. Date #12 was the Goldilocks of Tinder chat and it seemed like there was a lot of prospects especially if it was going to be slightly dry and referencing Harry Potter at any point. Which made me curious and determined to meet him…

Turns out Date #12 was the most hard to get, cynical guy I’ve ever talked to on Tinder. It was as though he joined Tinder, knowing instantly that he would regret it and scathing everytime he got a notification from someone on there. He seemed like the type that was nice, but overly picky and hesitant that he was going to get cat-fished every time. Later I found out, that he only felt that way about meeting me.

He was reading way too much into my initial bio on Tinder which I had something along the lines of “I have ulterior motives as to why I’m here”. (Edit: I’m such a wanker for writing that as my Tinder bio.) I also once posted a snap story asking who wanted to brunch with me, after organising with Harry Potter, to have brunch the following day. I could almost forgive him for giving me the hot and cold vibes since upon reflection, I was sounding suspicious by agreeing to brunch, then publicising that I needed another brunch date for a different day. Smooth.

Regardless of his hesitant attitude towards meeting me, part of my crazy bitch attribute is that I can play a long game if required (while maintaining 30 others). Since we had arranged to meet for brunch the week before and had I not bailed to brunch with my best friend, then Date #12 would have been Date #3. Over the following week plans were made then abandoned  probably due to a combination of his catfish fear and being busy with life until the following Saturday which is when we finally met. I was too exhausted to entertain on the Friday after four dates on the Thursday and could afford to skip a day since I had already done 11 dates in the last week. I also hate Friday night dates. It leads to drinking and then, if one isn’t careful, leads to something more.

Date #12 and I agreed to meet up at PreFab. In my brunch-obsessed mind PreFab is amazing. The creamy mushrooms are incredible, the portion sizes are good but not huge and the price reflects this. I like to use the bathroom every time I go there solely to use their Aesop hand wash and I genuinely like the easy layout of their café. The waitresses wear brightly coloured lipsticks and the food comes out quickly. Above all , it’s dog-friendly and Richie loves to socialise on a Saturday morning.

Richie and I arrived, strangely to time and we were slightly early so we found a spot outside before Date#12 arrived. I was wearing knee-high socks with a black skirt and a polka-dot top that showed far too much cleavage. It was kind of cold that day and my nipples did not appreciate my choice of outfit.

First impressions of Date #12 was that he was as tall as I expected (5ft 8ish) but more muscular than I expected. None of his photos showed him smiling and one was even blurry. He was wearing the whitest t-shirt I’ve ever seen (“Sorry I’m five minutes late, was picking up a new white t-shirt from AS Colour”) with a Nike jacket and a snapback cap. He dressed like a Caucasian Jay-Z, where he could afford to dress well but still wanted to look he had street-cred. His Country Road socks are testament to this.

High-quality socks are my jam!

The conversation was pretty light-hearted and not overly awkward. He wasn’t as open as I and seemed pretty guarded but was friendly and open-minded. He was clearly really curious about what I was doing on Tinder soliciting boys for brunch, so I was pretty quick to confess that although I was genuine, he was part of some social experiment. He took it pretty well, although he asked whether there was cameras around and I advised that this was just a low-budget blog.

One of the things about Date #12 was that his Tinder line was his occupation (Who does this?!) which I won’t reveal in this blog but he works for a film studio that takes its name from an ugly insect. He was really down to earth but it was clear that he worked hard and I assumed he was good at what he did. He moved to Wellington a year ago for work and was originally from Auckland.

Richie took a liking to Date #12 and was rather happy to sit on his lap. I cannot fathom how forward Richie is sometimes with strangers, I haven’t taught him the importance of stranger danger. It took a weird turn when out of the blue, near the end of the conversation, Date #12 asked me to look the other way since he had cramp so that he could pull a face and deal with it. So naturally I looked back. The situation then went as follows:

me, silently horrified
la la la la

Despite this weird seven second moment, the date wasn’t a disaster. I asked if he could look after Richie whilst I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and then went and paid the bill,  even though this guy ordered twice the amount of eggs and that costs like $10 extra “How many eggs? Two? Okay, can I please have four?”  and because I’m a strong independent woman.

Ladies and Gentleman, I paid on the first date

When I got back to the table, he was like “Urgh, you paid” and part of the reason why I did was because this challenge wasn’t about getting free food or wined and dined and I cared enough to ensure that he didn’t leave with that impression. Also, I have an this unreasonable phobia of split payment on a date.

Date #12 walked me to my car after the date and refused my offer to drive him to his car afterwards. It was kinda mega awkward saying “Bye!” *awkward hug* to then watch him walk down the street afterwards back where we came from. Although the date went well, I got the most doubting text that night from him.

Date #12: “Thanks for brunch today, I actually had a nice time.

Me: “Should I be worried about that “actually” bit?”

Date #12: “Haha! The “actually” was incase it didn’t come across that way. If you’re interested though, I think we should “probably” do it again.”

I ain’t saying he’s on Ashley Madison, but…

For some reason, I’ve had a lot of hesitation as to whether to post this.

There are a few things that I’ve chosen to keep relatively quiet, so far. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because it’s one thing to talk about going on 30 dates in 30 days. It’s quite another to talk about more than an innocent date that goes no further than a pash and crotch grab in the Barina.

There were a few ‘rules’ that I set myself during this challenge. One was, I probably shouldn’t sleep with anyone unless I had 10 dates with them. For me, that’s a general rule I try to stick to because it usually rules out the type of guy I wouldn’t want to sleep with regardless.

It’s not that I’m against casual sex. I’m all about it. Heck, sex is great when it’s casual, naked and some T.I is playing in the background. It’s just that I’m against casual bad sex. If we’ve only met once, the banter’s average even though there’s alcohol involved, I doubt I’m going to get more than six-to eight minutes (if I’m lucky) of boring Netflix and chill.

Another rule was, if I don’t want my Mum, Dad or Grandma to read about it then I probably shouldn’t be posting about it in the first place. Luckily for me, my parents raised my sister and I according to the  “you do you, babe” school of thought (although those words were never said). The bar for shocking my parents is set pretty high.  I broke my front teeth when I was 19 while completely intoxicated at a bar. Both of my parents came to the dentist with me, where my Dad is still making the joke “that’s what you get for dancing on tables.” Sure, my parents don’t want to hear about all my pashfests in the Barina, but I think they  probably understand that I’m not at home reading some Mills & Boon waiting for da one to come to me.

In short, if you’re upset by the life choices of others, you should probably stop reading. I don’t know why you even got this far. With that out of the way, I’ll admit that I totally met up with the Silver Fox from Date #11.

There was an instant attraction. This guy oozed confidence through his voice, the way he stood on the side of the road and the way he looked at me. He messaged me while Date #11 was wrapping up, and I tottered down the road to meet him. Not that I need to justify meeting someone almost twice my age, but if you really need a reason,will “because I wanted to” suffice?

The Silver Fox and I meet up and it’s late, 10.20pm on a Thursday night. I’m kind of drunk, I probably don’t look cute at this stage, but curiosity and attraction have carried me this far. We meet at D4, which isn’t my usual place to dine or drink so I suggest we go to the Green Man which is probably way more up his alley, anyway.

We drink Gin and Tonics and I find out more about him. He’s in Wellington on business and is originally from Australia. He’s married, but separated, and now has a new partner. He has two kids. It’s very clear that he doesn’t want to focus on this part of his life, so I don’t push it. Ultimately, I don’t want to know and he doesn’t want to talk about it.

After a few drinks, he suggests we go for a walk. We walk along the waterfront, it’s freezing (like 11.30pm in the middle of winter freezing) and he helps me warm up by  wrapping me up into his big suit jacket. There didn’t really feel like there was a massive age-gap between us, except for when he mentioned that he worked on a song in the late 90’s. I don’t think he’s from Savage Garden.

Take you to the mooon and back

I put my hand on the back of his head and found that he was incredibly light on hair back there, something being short lead to me missing. Urgh, old people problems. Yet, still we started kissing along the waterfront with his hands wandering everywhere.

I didn’t go back to his apartment with him. The conversation came up and in my drunken mind, I couldn’t tell whether or not this was a good idea, knowing he had a wife, a new partner and kids in Australia. It’s so easy to pretend like they’re not a factor when there is zero mention of them other than telling me they exist. I told him that I’d love to see him tomorrow and so he put me in an Uber and asked me to let him know I got home alright.

He asked me for a drink the following night and was pretty persistent.. “Miss u want u …*sigh*” and when I told him that my friend had come over (anyone remember the Crotch grabber) he offered to send them home and pay for their dinner.

Screen Shot 2015-08-31 at 10.02.06 PM

I flaked out a few more times over the next few weeks, not that I think he got the idea. It became apparent to me that there wasn’t enough of a connection to justify it to myself. In hindsight, I was probably just drunk and lonely. Realistically, it’s not a situation that one would knowingly agree to based on the likely outcome… What, he’s going to fall in love with me and move to NZ to be with me, or I fly over there and play Step Mum #3? Uh…

So with that, to those who presumed that I bedded an old dude, I’m sorry to have lead you on..


Oh, and no, I won’t say whether or not I found him in the Ashley Madison leak.

Date #11 Dinner with a Man Who Set the Standard

If you haven’t read blogs #9 and #10, you wouldn’t know that all these dates and the one you’re about to read about happened on the same fateful Thursday. I was exhausted and running quite late for my third and final date of the night with a glass of red in my hand, finger on the pulse ordering an Uber, smearing make up on my face, changing my dress and pretending to look ‘fresh faced’ and ‘awake’ despite being jaded, tipsy, and feeling more like Ke$ha and less like Bey.

Date #11 and I had been in conversation since April before I had deleted Tinder during which time we made the Facebook friend commitment. He was extremely nice, non creepy and had a good selection of Facebook and Tinder photos. He was also from the Hutt after being overseas working for quite some time.

Date #11 had wished me a happy birthday in May and even remembered what we talked about before I deleted Tinder as he then asked about my recent trip to Melbourne. After that, we matched again on Tinder a couple of days later and he asked me out for dinner at Boulcott Street Bistro within a few days.

Fuck. Yes.

I was overly keen (which hopefully wasn’t too transparent) as I had heard such great things and it was a bold move to suggest a sit down meal at a nice restaurant with someone you’ve never met before in real life. I found it incredibly chivalrous and I immediately respected him for it, even though I was going with the expectation that I would totally pay half at the end (because I am a single independent woman who no need no man). Date #11 seemed to have his shit together, possibly because guys in their early 30’s have better things to do with their time than getting high over the weekend and getting drunk in Apartment Bar (I’m not dissing anyone, I’ll see ya’ll there this weekend!). Never the less, despite my initial enthusiasm, I found myself becoming drained from this weird, almost addiction of setting up dates with other guys so in hindsight I was blind at how incredible this guy actually was in comparison.

I was running 20 minutes late, it was 45 minutes since I had pashed Date #10 in the Barina, and I had already consumed four glasses of wine. I was rushing across the road up the street in my baby slut heels when an older guy had stopped me, having spotted me running.

Silver Fox: “Cold night huh”

Me: “Isn’t it!”

Silver Fox: “It’s not as cold back home”

Me: “Where are you from?”

Silver Fox: “Perth, I’m just here for business.”

He had just dined at Boulcott Street Bistro with colleagues and was about to go back to his apartment. I asked what he recommended to eat. I’m naturally probably on the flirty side which prompted the silver fox to ask if I would like to go into the Bistro for a drink after initially I said I was meeting a friend for dinner. I had to then confessed that I was actually about to go on a date and since I didn’t think Date#11 would appreciate a plus one a threesome wasn’t really going to be on the horizon for that night. The Silver Fox asked me for my number, which I obliged and he suggested we catch up for a drink another night.

When I finally got into Boulcott Street Bistro I was so grateful it had this fancy dining mood lighting as my cheeks were burning from the four glasses of wine, the urgent rush to get there and the brief five minute encounter with the silver fox. Date #11 was as lovely in real life as he was online. He was tall, slim, had strong features with the sweetest smile and he seemed relatively relaxed and not offended that I was tardy for our dinner.

I hope he didn’t realise how casually tipsy I was. He didn’t seem to notice, as we had never met before. Date #11 had an interesting life and only just came back to New Zealand after living overseas for quite some time launching his business. Suuuuch prospects. It was hard to not come across like we weren’t on our first date to our waiter who seemed overly keen to judge us (seriously, he reminded me of this guy below. I couldn’t tell if he was foreign or from Hamilton). I ordered after recommendations from the Silver Fox – the Roasted Lamb Rack with wild mushroom & shallot stew, confit potato & root vegetable tian. Yeah, buddy!

êtes-vous de la France ou Hamilton ?

The food didn’t take long to come out, that or I was remarkably quick to drink my wine and engrossed about life and love with this guy. When the food I came out, it became harder for me to maintain class since I was on wine #5 and wasn’t in any position or mood to stop drinking. I dropped my fork, then knife, on the floor about four times and scrapped my fork on the plate loudly at least twice like the classy Hutt girl I am.

Nom nom nom

We weren’t going to have dessert, but then we did and Date #11 excused himself politely to pay the bill. This guy was a gentleman. If I wasn’t doing 30 dates in 30 days, I would have been blown away by how charming he was and probably waited by the phone for him to call. He was tall, good-looking and seemingly intelligent. There sadly wasn’t anything bad to report, or I was too tipsy to even recall.

At the end of the date, he offered me a ride home. I declined and said I would get an Uber and refused to let him walk me down to the end of the street to get one (because I am an independant woman who no need no man). He kissed me on the cheek and then I tottered down Willis Street tipsy off on another adventure.