Its January and things are drip drip dry with the drip feed dater so I’ve decided to get back on the dating apps to mix things up and ensure after a mad busy week at work I’ve got something fun planned for the weekend. So, swiping away I’ve made 3 matches and as I’m feeling on fire I send out 3 messages on Bumble as I have to make the contact first. All 3 reply… this is a good start. I’ve had a break from the apps for a few months as it was seriously doing my head in. Also, pre Christmas I feel that dating apps are like a last chance saloon to get a boo before the snuggle season.
Cool so I get three replies and so the text dance begins… Guy one responds with an equally quirky response but I get after my next reply the conversation stops pretty much as soon as its started. Unmatch. Number two the same. Unmatch. But what is this, number three is super chatty… hello! We have a nice bit of text chat and he drops me his number asking if I want to meet up this weekend. Nice. I like a direct man, I really don’t have time for the endless drip drip text messaging which never seems to go anywhere.
He says he is off to the football but can meet me after the game. I’m busy so suggest a coffee on Sunday afternoon – that’s when he suggests we go to the Sunday farmers market. This sounds wonderful! I’ve never actually got out of my bed that early on a Sunday morning to go anywhere let alone an uber trendy hipster farmers market. Lovely idea.
We meet at a really cute café and before I step inside I spot him in the window looking straight ahead. First thoughts… erm well he’s ok. Looks older than his profile image and slimmer but ok here we go. He seems sweet, conversation is ok and he buys me a cup of tea while we sit and chat for a while before heading to the market.
The market date was so nice, wondering around looking at fruit and veg, buying hipster condiments and sampling olives and cheese. Being honest I didn’t fancy him at all. He just didn’t have any swagger or vibe. He seemed like the kind of guy who’s just been single and living on his own for along time and not really looking after himself that well. Strangely I feel a bit sorry for him. His jacket is knackered, his trainers on their last legs. I stop myself here and I think – gosh stop being so shallow… jacket and trainers – girl these things are surface, he may be a really nice guy who just needs a good woman to care for him a bit. That’s where I stop myself again. Why do I have to fix a man up? Why do I have to be the care package that makes things good for him? I decided to shut up all the head chatter and just enjoy the conversation and food we’ve bought to share. That’s when I notice his runny nose dripping. Yes dripping. Oh lawd… I know it’s a cold day but surely he can feel it? I wipe my nose to signal that dude your nose is running, and he briefly wipes away the snot, but it comes again and is now running into his lips. I’m looking at his lips with the snot running and immediately that’s me done. I just can’t.
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