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?
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.
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!
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.
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