Having been officially 100% single for a few weeks now, I, of course, got my swipe on. And, as swiping so often does, secured me a date on the weekend just past.
As an experienced Tinderella, I know to approach tinder dates with a grain of salt. Sometimes they happen, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they’re normal, and sometimes not so much. And then, sometimes, on extra special occasions, they maul your face.
I could tell from the messages Mr. Tiger (as we will call him… see what I did from there) sent, that he was of the extra keen variety. He messaged often. He called me ‘cutie’ without ever having laid eyes on me in the real life world. He tried to bring our date forward, cos he was apparently so keen to meet me (what can I say, the boy is only human).
So on the day in question, we went to a local pub and had a few afternoon beverages in the courtyard. I knew from about 10 minutes in he wasn’t the Tinder prince for me, but stayed put for a few hours on the chance of making a new friend (and for the wine, obvs).
After a few hours of chat, during which he continually told me just how cute he thought I to be, and how much he wanted to see me again, and invited me back to his place (4 times), it was time to call it a day. We were both locals and started walking back together. As we did so, he kept grabbing my hand, though in that brilliant way us girls do, I continually found reasons to extract it to, I dunno, get something out of my bag for the 10th time on that 200 meter walk. I am such an evil genius.
And then, after another successful extraction of the hand, right there by the edge of the main road, he was suddenly upon me. Hands on my hips, pulling me towards him, sticking his tongue in my mouth. Yep. I think at first I was too startled to do anything. The hulk of man upon me, the sounds of cars whizzing by, the slight fuzziness that comes after 4 glasses of red red wine on a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was just a bit much. I soon pushed him off, only for him to go in for the kill again. “No” I said to him firmly. “Why not?” he questioned. “Um, I don’t like to kiss on the side of roads”. The evil genius strikes again.
We were close to where he lived at this point, and I figured he would be out of my hair soon. Nope, of course Mr Tiger insisted on walking me home. Even when I told him not to, on a number of occasions.
And then we reached my front gate.
There, he went in for the kill yet again, standing in front of, and effectively blocking, the entrance to my home. When I ducked or tried to step around him, he literally tried to block my person, attempting to get his face close to mine the entire time. It was not until I mustered my best lawyer voice and said, very loudly (in case this incident subsequently required witnesses) “You are making me feel uncomfortable. Stop that right now” that he seemed to get the hint I was not keen for a pashfest and backed away.
Not the most pleasant of experiences, I can tell you.
Now, don’t tell anyone, but I am quite partial to a first date kiss. But, and here is the essential bit, only when both people are doing the kissing. Gentlemen, if in doubt, pulling away, trying to duck, pushing you off, and making excuses like “I don’t like to kiss on the side of roads” are not invitations for you to try harder.
Of course, he messaged the next day and asked me out again. Typical; it’s always the once you don’t want to see (or the ones that mauled your face) that do that. Needless to say, I politely (but firmly, in my best lawyer language) declined.
So there you go
Naughty Miss Jones xx