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:

Ow!
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.”

Date #7 The Back to Back Irish Episode 1

Wednesday was a hump day and for the first time in a long time, I was on time to work by 8am. Because of my excellent time management skills I was able to arrange for a tinder date at 5pm.

Date #7 was the first Irish guy I gave my number to off Tinder. I possibly had a case of overly built up anticipation for the luck of the Irish to make up for two one night stands I had on separate occasions where I was too intoxicated to even consider anything further than their Irish accents. Needless to say, I didn’t end up in a situation comparable to Gerard Butler in P.S I Love You but I held onto hope and remained optimistic that an Irish guy would eventually charm me and say just the way Gerry did in P.S I Love You “I know I should know this darling, but are you mad at me?”

Gerry, how could we be mad at you? Love, every girl ever.

Date #7 had a bio outlining that he was “Irish and new to Welly”with only two photos. One face shot of a nice looking boy and another of him with two friends holding a drink. The conversation started as most do, with a “Hello Melissa” and a smiley face on the end. I didn’t respond (because I’m a cold-hearted bitch) and he followed it up with a “I’m not very good at talking via Tinder so bear with me I’ll be a lot more charming”. So I gave him my number to be courted by an Irishman. Just like that.

Unfortunately his Hey 🙂 on the Saturday night and his Hey 😦 on the Monday night got old pretty quickly with no response and the chat wasn’t getting my blood pumping but there was a possibility that his shit Tinder chat could be compensated by a stellar personality so I finally responded.

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The eggplant says everything.

We agreed to meet at 5pm at Plum Cafe on Cuba Street for an after work coffee as I was unenthused to do anything else with him based on his shit chat and a coffee can last as long as you choose to drink it. He texted me at 4.55pm to see if I was there yet and at 4.59pm I replied that I was walking there now ( lies, I was still at my desk)

I finally got to Plum at 5.09pm to meet Date #7 in the flesh. I was getting too accustomed to meeting strangers on the internet and simply said “Hey!” with a smile. He had a little bit of stubble, slightly sticking out ears and had comparatively close to the scalp short hair. He had already bought his own coffee by the time that I was there and needed to order my own. Perhaps it wasn’t an Irish thing to ask someone what they’re going to have if someone meets them there first and then sat down with my self-catered Chai Latte.

He was a Chef and like he indicated in his bio, was new to Wellington. He was currently staying in a hostel with two friends and worked nights. Within 15 minutes he had made weird references to the fact that I could drive him around Wellington since I had a car and during the 50 minute coffee date, he was looking at my chest for at least half of that time. I even asked him to look at me in the eyes at one point to which he replied “But they’re so big!”

I have big boobs, does that give you the right to stare? Bitch, please.

During my Chai Latte, I asked Date #7 whether he had been to other countries “Nah, just NZ and the US”. Such a chatterbox, I could hardly get a word in. The conversation stooped to such tragic levels that he had to ask what my favourite colour and movie was. He had never seen Mean Girls.

When we said goodbye, it was fucking awkward. Turns out he had blown his flat viewing for this tinder date and seemed ultra keen for a second date. Little did he know that the date following this coffee date was a drink with another Irish Tinder guy.

He never heard from me again. The last text he sent me was

Date #7 “So date no 2 tomorrow?”

Date #7: “Or not”

Date #5 Zoo Times with another Londoner

After Date #4 it was becoming harder and harder to maintain enthusiasm and energy to meet these randoms. Why would I put aside time for those I don’t know when I was barely putting time aside for people I do know? The thing about friendship is that you talk about things you can relate to the other person with and you actually care somewhat about their life – depending on their ranking of friendship. With Tinder dates you have to introduce yourself, stick your chest out and maintain attractiveness for at least an hour. It’s tedious. Regardless, I’m the type of person who will do something to completion no matter how tired or annoyed I am with the situation (All my exes would agree). Since I refuse to give up, I was going to persistently continue to date no matter how tired, annoyed, or bored I was at the prospect.

Enter, Date #5. He messaged me with a relatively good opening line and excellent grammar.

Date #5: “Hi Melissa, I like your profile picture. You look dangerous – like ‘Don’t look at me! I will drink you under the table’. But you would lose.”

Melissa: “Most likely. I would go out trying. And collapse and vomit. But I mostly keep it together”

Date #5:  “Very chivalrous of you. Think I ‘d pop you in a taxi at that point. 🙂 your dog in your second picture is cute! I love dogs. I used to have an Airedale terrier that looked kind of like yours called rustic… he was naughty but adorable.”

The conversation continued with a little bit of dog banter, after which he revealed that he worked in sales, was originally from London, and came here a couple of years ago. The tinder conversation peaked with the brilliant line of “Mystic Melissa you are a lady of mystery…” and  he ended the conversation that night with “Just got into my amazing bed need my beauty sleep lol drop me a line 02********.”

Wait, why was there even a lol in there?

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Inappropriate loling makes me go

Date #5’s photos consisted of a range of images with two shirtless self portraits, (not of his rock hard abs – he had more of a two back), one selfie, two photos of him with girls in them and one photo of him in suit and tie with his mouth wide open.

I wasn’t put-off by this point. Shirtless pictures are always a concern when you’re not a body-builder, a personal trainer or a model but hey, this is a 30 Day challenge and I’m open minded. Let’s hope his weight hasn’t changed too much, and that the shirtless selfie isn’t outdated – this is always a concern with guys who upload their Facebook profile picture from 2012 as their Tinder profile picture because “they haven’t got around to changing it” or “I don’t use facebook/take photos much”. Metabolisms slow down and being a single guy means more beer nights with the boys. Let me just leave it at that without directing this at anyone in particular.

Date #5 and I continued to converse over text and share pictures of dogs. At least I wasn’t going to have a repeat of #4 as he had photographic evidence of his dogs/friends dogs, and seemed entertained by my dog stories. He even suggested that we go to the zoo, knowing that I was a dog lover, and that he would pick me up at 1pm the following day. He sent through a picture of the weather forecast to assure me of what the weather would be like for extra brownie points.

On the day, I received a call from a random number and answered it relatively hastily. To my surprise, it was date #5 simply wanted to confirm the details and to push the time to 2.30. He recognized that I was yet to save his number (Do you know how hard it is to juggle Tinder boys?!) which he called me out on and I brushed it off as though I wasn’t even phased by his slight dig. There was also some persistence that he wanted to pick me up from my house to meet the ‘little fella’.

My being late to dates was finally coming to bite me in the ass, as Date #5 was running even later than he had predicted. Thankfully I was at home and able to resume life in the interim instead of waiting like a loser at a Café. His excuse for his tardiness was brilliant, and one that I definitely needed to utilize myself at least once throughout this 30 Day Challenge.

“I had a little bit of a dilemma what to wear and just found quite possibly the worst or best odd sock combo in the world” [Editor’s note: extremely disappointing sock combo upon inspection]

When he finally arrived, he knocked on my door and had this adorable British accent. He was much shorter than I had anticipated – crafty photo angles had worked in his favour and I’m sure he was stoked that he was taller than me. As we walked up to his car, it made so much more sense that he wanted to pick me up. He had a really nice car. This was the part where I was supposed to be gushing over his car and soothing his ego. I adhered to this to appease him and said “Omgah, kewl car!” when really, I was a lot less impressed and more focused on how well he had done portraying himself taller than he was.

Date #5 was relatively new to Wellington and it was agreed upon getting into the car that I would give him directions to the zoo from my house. For those who are close to me, I have a terrible sense of direction and can’t function as a human being very well if I’m the front passenger in a car (which isn’t very often these days). I prefer to treat it like an Uber ride and be silent on my phone the entire time, much to my ex’s anger “You don’t even talk to me, you just text on your phone!”.  I’m totally aware of this massive personality flaw, as many arguments over two years stemmed from this behavioural trait. Anyway, just to clarify – THIS WASN’T ONE OF THOSE TIMES. I was the most perfect travel companion as I had my good-Tinder-date-future-girlfriend game on. Within 90 seconds though, Date #5 was digging into me and gently mocking me for my shit direction-giving which had nothing to do with his lack of comprehension ( he could barely see over the drivers seat in his sports car). This was fine though, I could handle being blamed indirectly for him not seeing of the dashboard, especially since following the gentle mocking of my shit direction-giving he said that he hated it when girls took him too seriously.

When we got to the zoo we had to park a little further down the drive since Date #5 didn’t want birds to poop on his car as he had just polished his baby that morning. I was okay with that, I can walk 300 metres without crying.

“I really hate when birds crap on my car”

Kudos points went to Date #5 when I got my wallet to pay for the zoo and he pushed in front to foot the bill. Because I like to keep things relatively fair, I offered to get the coffees but once again Date #5 insisted on paying. We ended up having to look at the pygmy monkeys for like 15 minutes since the barista at the zoo couldn’t quite grasp the concept of making coffees within five minutes. When we finally did get our coffees, Date #5 was pissed and short with the barista that his flat white wasn’t a large.

As we started our tour of the zoo, I became super excited that I got to show this guy a kiwi within the first 30 seconds of being in the enclosure. We only had two hours or so of time at the zoo due to his odd sock debacle making him late.

During the time that we were looking at the leopard, Date #5 did a cringy impression of Borat “You’ll never get this”, which up until drafting up this blog I had assumed was a quote from King Julien in the Madagascar movie. Regardless of this minor detail, I had a brainwave of who this guy reminded me of. He was just King Julien!

Nailed it

Without boring my beloved readers of the relatively smooth sailing transaction of this date (which ended with a ride home, a walk to my door and a kiss on the cheek) the actions following the date and the arrangement for a second date were simply too good to miss out.

The night after our date, I received a call from Date #5 who proceeded to tell me about his day. I didn’t think we were at the stage of sharing how our day were details but I was glad he felt comfortable enough to do so. He was bitching about his flatmates and after 15 minutes of hearing about it, I was too tired after a day at work to care and made up the pathetic excuse that “I have to go… and have a shower before my flatmate does”

Wait, what did I just say?

During and following this phone call, we agreed to hang out on the Friday for Tapas (and a giggle according to his txt?). Organising second dates this early in the game was a risky choice as I still 25 dates to plough through and ended up double booking myself on the Friday night with Date#3. For some bizarre reason, I chose to ditch Date#5 because of the whiny phone call where he bitched about his flatmate and hung out with Date #3 instead only to get my crotch grabbed. Karma.

Conversations with Date #5 started to desist since he was a little pissed that I had ditched him on the day of the day ( I gave him eight hours notice!) but by this stage we were FB friends and he even added me on LinkedIn. Whilst I was doing the write up for this blog entry, I checked his Facebook to see what he had been up to only to find that he had blocked me! Possibly he was a little offended by the whole 30 Dates in 30 days thing even though I had notified most of these guys prior. To ensure there was no hard feelings, I thought I’d txt him.

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Nope, no hard feelings!