I'm Miss M. Here are some of my Online Dating tips, backed up by my sometimes hilarious, and often disconcerting stories…
So after a divine beginning my Bollywood romance with Mr Maybe continued to flourish.
He’d been proactive enough to book me in for a second date for the week after our first. The big night was fast approaching. And although we knew we’d see each other soon, he didn’t do that annoying thing boys do where they cease all contact until date day – only to spring a venue and time on you moments before the occasion. If you’re a boy (or a girl) who does this, please stop. It’s rude and stupid and makes us anxious.
But no – Mr Maybe stayed in touch all week – through texts, cute emoticons, and phone calls. Who would’ve thought people ACTUALLY still use the call function on their phone! I was as excited as a hipster in a tartan shop.
It was like all the bullshit had lead to this one man.
But of course, as life would have it, the romantic comedy (or romantic tragedy) that is my love life was due for a shake up. So the night before our much anticipated date, Mr Maybe called to let me know his brother had been injured in a car accident. So he’d have to cancel dinner.
I trusted this was a genuine thing, and felt pretty guilty when my first thought was:
‘Oh for f#*k’s sake. Worst timing ever!’
Not very sympathetic, huh? But once I gained a bit of perspective, I decided to get over myself.
And like the gentleman he was, Mr Maybe took control of the situation and said I could pick a new evening and he’d make it work. I was fairly relieved, because my work schedule was CHOKERS (single person cliche, I know).
There was only one night (Thursday) I was free. We locked it in and I offered to book a place, assuming this would be an awkward thing for him to do from the hospital. I called one of my fave eating establishments to get us a table. And that’s when the reservation person cackled in my ear: You can’t get a table at such short notice.
It’s Valentine’s day on Thursday.
Yes, I’d just just booked our Second Date for the most awkward night possible.
First I panicked. Then I jumped into damage control and weighed up my options – what would be worse:
1. Going on a second date on International “it sucks to be single” day.
2. Cancelling our second date because of the Valentine’s thing, hence giving it far too much importance.
After over analysing the shite out of the situation, I decided it would be best not to make a big deal of it. I could simply get a table at a chilled out pub, and pretend I had no idea it’s Valentine’s Day. Because that’s the kind of cool, relaxed chick I am.
I am not cool. Or relaxed. So I spent days fretting about how he’ll react. Will he think I’m some kind of psycho?! Will he think I’m in love with him?! Will he think I’m a sad person who went out of her way just to have some company on Valentine’s Day?!
Or alternatively he might simply laugh about the whole thing with me? Or even better, not even realise my blunder and continue to think I’m fantastic. Yes.
So you can imagine my horror when I arrived at my chilled out local pub, only to see they’d reorganised their tables into settings for two, with a set share menu, printed on fancy pink paper.
OMG. I’d walked into a Valentine’s explosion.
Deep breaths… It’s okay. He still might laugh.
I decided to help my chances by wording up the waiter. He seemed friendly and empathetic, so I told him I was on a second date – so I’d be bloody grateful if he toned down the scary romance stuff. He kindly chuckled at my predicament and told me I had nothing to worry about.
But I did. Because our waiter turned out to be a prick.
As soon as Mr Maybe arrived the waiter brought over too glasses of Champagne – to help us toast the night. I stared daggers through him, but this only served to egg him on and he started gushing about what a great looking couple we made.
I could’ve died. Or stabbed the waiter.
But instead I decided to suck it up (the Champagne, and my pride) and tell Mr Maybe exactly what had happened. Well, not really – I told him I only realised it was Valentine’s when I’d got to the pub. LIES! But he bought it and we agreed not to let it get in the way of a fun night.
So dinner ended. As did our scintillating conversation. And he offered to walk me to my car.
My car – where he didn’t kiss me. And he didn’t say anything about wanting to catch up again. I was pretty deflated, but then I thought that maybe a dude that can’t see the humour in what had happened is perhaps not the dude for me.
And that’s when my phone started ringing.
I answered to hear someone pissing themselves laughing. It was him:
What the hell just happened?!
I was thinking the same thing. And I didn’t have the answer. So I laughed too.
We ended up chatting for ages (mainly about how much of a jerk the waiter was). And before hanging up Mr Maybe said he wanted to tell me I looked beautiful at dinner – but he didn’t want me to think he was being intense.
Ah! So we were on exactly the same page. Miraculous!
Days later we organised a drink for that weekend. It was ON.
But no, I was wrong… Again.
We’d survived a turning point, but it seems my romantic tragedy was not destined to end happily with Mr Maybe…