Kids, Valentine’s Day tends to bring out the downright nasty in Tinder daters. As the great Dothraki would say:
In 2019, things were no different.
David and I had swiped right on each other, prompting what I assumed would be a mutually respectful exchange.
I was wrong. SO wrong.
My grandfather passed notes to my grandmother via the factory secretary at the company they worked at in the 60s to let her know he was interested. My Dad wrote my Mom “we’re going to have beautiful babies” messages in cute cards in the 80s.
What did my wanna-be suitor write to me as his first message? This:
Mr Tall, Blonde and Handsome ( SO my type!) has been checking out my superhero bag before falling in line behind me and while I kept checking on my bag over my shoulder, he smiled at me before saying Hi.
I was perfectly ok chatting with him until he laid the “Do you come here often?” line on me and that’s when my inner Bridget Jones kicked in.
I mumbled over responses to the “what do you do?” question and him teasingly asking why I assumed he was in the creative industry.
I swear I am an expert at cockblocking myself.
At that point, his colleague joined us and my new crush said:
“This is Richard. Richard, this is… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name?”
Me: “Fazielah and you are?”
Him: “That’s a beautful name. How do you spell that? Oh, and I am Dave”
And just as I was about to say something vaguely flirtateous, my coffee order came up and the moment was lost.
i threw a hasty and blushing goodbye at the guys over my shoulder, as I went back to my seat.
Between giggling everytime I looked up to see Dave looking at me and writing my mobile number down on my business card to give to him, I was in proper girly mode!
Alas, by the time I worked up the nerve to actually go back and give him my card, Dave the Wonderful has vanished into thin air.