In a new weekly feature, Her.ie goes behind enemy lines to see what it’s really like to be single in Ireland.
From speed dating to making speedy escapes, our no-holds-barred blog will follow one girl’s attempts to venture into the dating jungle, play the field and share any wisdom that she finds along the way!
Week Eleven: Knowing Me, Knowing You
So last week, I filled you in on a new guy that I was chatting to on Tinder and we went on our first date over the weekend.
Nerves are a pretty normal thing to have on a first date, especially when you haven’t met the person before, so I’ve developed a bit of a habit of compulsively checking the profile of my date in an effort to reassure myself that I’m actually meeting up with a good-looking guy, rather than some fella that would make Alan Partridge look smooth.
Unfortunately, this week I had a spot of phone trouble and made the horrifying discovery that there was no Tinder app available for my replacement, a Windows Phone. This left me with four days leading up to my date where I had no photos whatsoever to refer to and by the day we were supposed to meet, I had full blown anxiety that I either wouldn’t recognise him or would recognise him and wish that I didn’t.
On arriving outside St Stephens Green, I quickly spotted a familiar looking gent and went to say hello. As we made our way to the nearest bar, I quickly noticed that he wasn’t my usual type and as the night progressed, it became clear that he’s pretty much the opposite that I usually go for.
The hair had definitely taken about 20 minutes, the shoes were immaculate and the jeans were skinnier than any of the pairs in my closet. He was a self-proclaimed ‘metro’ and as he told me about his love of shopping, it became clear that should the relationship progress, I would definitely be the one fulfilling most of the usual ‘male’ stereotypes.
Over a few beers, we chatted about work, music, and all the usual first date staples. With a first date, it can be hard to estimate the parametres between having an honest conversation and oversharing but this guy was certainly not shy and I got a full recap of his romantic history.
Despite all this, we had a great time so he has text, without fail, each day since.
Normally, this would start to make me feel a bit smothered but thankfully, it has just been short bursts of witty banter rather than the drawn-out and painful conversations that I’ve become used to during my dating adventure. So, a second date has been suggested and I’ve decided to give it a go. Can I abandon my taste for scruffy commitphobic ‘arty’ types for someone who holds down a good job and whose favourite movie is Top Gun? It remains to be seen.
Our reader Jane also had a first date this week – here’s how she got on!
“After a few brief messages, we had arranged to meet. Rip the bandage off, not allowing myself too much time to stress. He was a chef and cute, tall and witty.
Or so I thought.
I arrived at the (fancy) tapas restaurant (his choice) and as he stood up to greet me, I spotted that he was not so tall. “Ah that’s grand, I’m not tall, it’s fine,” I thought.
The conversation flowed, all was going well. What happened next is just beyond me.
“So I have a little gift for you,” he smarmed. “Many people can do flowers but I think this is a little special’ and he hands me a CD. The cover was a photo of himself (I s**t you not) and inside was the playlist, the date and, wait for it, his name and mine. Dear Jesus.
“Thanks, that’s lovely,” I lied.
I was cringing at the level of his booming voice and exaggerated German accent. This restaurant was cosy and a table full of friends celebrating a 30th were basically on top of us and knew full we we were on a first date (scarleh!)
Admittedly, I was still intrigued as I had never met a high flying chef who had worked in a few Michelin-starred restaurants and I was eager to see his menu choices.
I spotted one of my favourites, grilled halloumi – yum!
“What is this?” asked Stefan the chef. Mister ‘I’ve been cooking all my life, food is my passion and I’ve worked for the best chefs in the world’ didn’t know what halloumi was. “Eh it’s cheese”, I replied, gobsmacked.
We ordered, not a lot of food but I got the vibe he hadn’t budgeted for this menu (again, his choice). So the food arrived and (oh god no, don’t do it), he began taking pictures of the food, as it got cold. Cringe.
So he talks and we eat. I drain my glass of wine that just isn’t enough to dull the blow of this hilariously horrendous date. And then, the clincher. We reach the end of the date and walk to the counter to pay I follow him over…he turns to me and says “so we will split it yes?”. “Ya sure,” I reply.
I’ve come to understand that if the guy suggests dinner then he should pay but whatever I didn’t really care and just wanted to leave. The bill came to €60.
I needed to go to the ladies and so I gave him a €50 note said “Can you pay my half with this?” and excused myself to the ladies.
Upon my return, there was no change. We left the restaurant and I asked him if he had my money. He completely brushed it off and said, “Ah it is ok, I owe you €10”.
I, not usually short of a few words, was again gobsmacked! The bleedin cheek of him!!
“So we go for drinks now?” he said.
“Sure,” I replied, adding “And you’re paying” in my mind. Sure this was my only way to get at least some of my money reimbursed!
In hindsight, it would have been so worth it to never see him again! After two drinks, I urgently needed to work tomorrow and took my leave.
“So where do we go now?” he said. “Well, I’m going home” I replied.
“So, do you have drinks in your house?”
Don’t bloody think so. The clueless thieving short chef off to find his next victim, free dinners and crap CD’s.
We want to hear about your dating experiences! Email hello@her.ie or Tweet us @Herdotie with the hashtag ‘shiftyfirstdates’.
