Kids, in the winter of 2017, I was dipping my toe back into the online dating pool after the disastrous ankle-interruptus incident when I “e-met” haagen_dazsmania on OkCupid.
From his profile photo, he looked like a South African version of the red headed Montague cousin in Romeo& Juliet:
Red heads weren’t my usual type, unless you count Tom Hiddleston (and Hello Love, who wouldn’t want a piece of that?!), but I was trying to date outside of my comfort zone so I entertained haagen_dazmania and his many, many messages online.
A cheese producer, my new suitor was into books, fantasy series, chocolate, cats, shopping with his sister, big romantic gestures ( asking me at one point how I’d feel about a massive chocolate bouquet delivery at work) and leaving me rhyming couplets via voice notes daily ( his voice sounded sexy so I was really looking forward to seeing the face behind it).
After a week we moved onto text messaging and phone calls. I was initially annoyed because he seemed to need a lot of attention and you guys know how I felt about selective social interaction. Texting me incessantly throughout the working day and up until after 11pm at night was NOT the way to winning my heart.
I didn’t have too many butterflies floating around in my tummy whilst waiting for haagen_dazsmania to arrive at the Stacked Diner in Tamboerskloof but I was pleasantly nervous.
This could be the start of something new – I felt like a High School Musical cast member:
When will I ever learn that online dating is a pitfall of liars and crooks?!
The man who showed up for our date was at least 10 years older than his profile photo , overweight and way shorter than he’d indicated online!
I was not so shallow as to judge men on their looks (ok, who am I kidding? My dreams were filled with a naked Alexander Skarsgard!) but haagen_dazmania was balding, wearing a peak cap, his shirt buttons were about to pop and his teeth needed a whitening badly.
This was not someone I could envision sharing a bed with, never mind cursing you, my future babies, to share a genetic pool with.
His appearance, coupled with his need to text me while I was in the ladies for two minutes and his critique of my looks and personality made me want to dash and run at the speed of light like a female The Flash:
But, because I had promised myself I was going to give guys more than one date to impress me, I sat through two hours of him talking about himself; making shocking comments on the state of the security in South Africa;his friends’ wealth and emigration plans; how I seemed to be very busy and how could I possibly balance my extensive love of movies and books with my constant socializing.
The entire time, he was reviewing my looks ( “Nice dress, it really compliments your brown complexion” – are you f***ing kidding me?!); my expressions and eyes ( “You have a smirk on your face , is that how you usually look?” and “Your eyes are really brown. I’m sorry, I am totally mesmerized by them” and my personality ( “You’re hot and scary and so direct about what you want”).
The final straw for me was his views on how travel and children just took too much effort and were expensive undertakings. I’d been very upfront online and in person that seeing the world and having you were my top priorities. These were non-negotiables and I needed a partner who not only wanted these things, but was passionate about making them happen.
After politely ending the date on the pretext of collecting your Spirit brother and sister in Hout Bay ( I didn’t have to get them), I left in a hurry.
Which didn’t stop him from trying to call me and sending needy texts about how he was worried he’d scared me off. Dude, learn when to back the f*** off!
A few days and another goddamn 11pm text later, I released him back into the online wild. Go well, Sir, and cat-fish someone else with your old photos.
F*** it! NEXT!