Tag Archives: going dutch

How I Met Your Father: Avoiding the non-date trap

Kids, as hard as I tried to avoid it, sometimes I unknowingly fell into the non-date trap and each time, I swore it would be the goddamn last!

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Gather around and let me tell you about the loser who wasted my time in 2017…

March 2017:

Mr Church Spin Doctor was a 31-year-old good-looking guy, who worked as a communications officer for the Catholic Church. He’d travelled the world over and even lived in Japan for three years.

He loved reading and initially contacted me to trade favourite books and author stories. I liked his style because unlike the previous airheads/sex crazed online suitors, Mr Spin Doctor seemed to be worth talking to.

When he quickly moved to wanting to meet me, I was a little hesitant but he followed up with a “this is how I read people” track.

Now, and I f***ing stress this,  he asked me out on a date, as evidenced from the below exchange:

OkCupid Spin Doctor

To further stress my point, the Wkipedia dictionary definition of a date is as follows:

A first date is any type of initial meeting between two individuals, whether or not previously acquainted, where an effort is made to ask, plan, and organize some sort of social activity.

Then, who pays for said first date, is defined  by UK.Match.Com as:

dating advice from uk.match

Fast forward to the agreed date (which he started with a big body melting hug) and things were progressing well at The Village Idiot in the City Centre.

We laughed and chatted a mile a minute about anything and everything over a few drinks: travels, family, Game of Thrones, comic books, movies and work.

I may not have felt an instantaneous convergence, as that previous non-date of mine pointed out pointed out, but I liked Mr Spin Doctor enough to consider a second date. Especially, considering that according to him, this was a first date, right?!


Somewhere between me excusing myself to go to the Ladies and coming back to the table, Jackass Deluxe decided that this wasn’t going anywhere and called for the bill.

Which he then looked at closely to calculate how much he owed (because, “Fazielah, I only brought enough for my own drinks and yeah, I drank the most”) and passed it over to me for my portion.

Wait, what?!

I refer you back to the definition of a date as above. May I also point out here that social etiquette dictates that when you invite someone out, you, the inviter are responsible for the payment of the bill?

I wasn’t so furious about the money ( because I always carry enough cash to pay for emergencies)  as I was by the utter audacity of it. He explicitly called it a DATE , for f***’s sake and now he was pulling the “let’s go dutch” card???!!!

Hells to the f*** NO!

As if I wasn’t humiliated enough, the brother takes it up another notch by… wait for it… seeing me off with a wave!

A f***ing wave, guys!

Never mind the time I took out of my very busy schedule for this non-date, I’d dolled myself up in a dress and pantyhose.

Not to mention, when I realised I’d forgotten my make-up at home, I rushed back to my apartment after work to splash on some lipstick and mascara. I f***ing put effort into the this non-f***ing date and the jackass had the blatant nerve to stick me with the bill and send me off with a wave.

This shit, Kids, is why I was single for so goddamn long.

As I complained and bitched to my friends Yolisa ( who told me to ditch all the el cheapos and wait for someone worthy of me) and Lee-Anne ( who pointed out that this fool realised he wasn’t getting laid that night and therefore didn’t feel the need to pay for drinks) , I resolved that this would be the last bloody time I dressed up for a non-date.

wonder woman on a date

Next time, I’d wear my Wonder Woman costume!

How I Met Your Father: You’re SO stupid, OkCupid!

stupid cupid
Image credit:www.columbuspubliclibrary.info

Kids, wading back into the online dating pool was more like a baptism of fire, reminding me again of why I hated this particular medium for “meeting” people.

There were various apps, of course, to help you find your match but I had returned to OkCupid because I’d had the most relative success with it… or so I thought.

Here are the three types of men I “met” on OkCupid who made me think the app was SO stupid:

The Angry Harasser …

Andrew37 of Ottery was a just a teeny bit forceful from the get go – he wanted to move to WhatsApp and then Facebook within two messages of “meeting” me, which I declined.

I already spent all of my time managing social media platforms in my day job, I did not need to be conversing electronically in other spheres of my life too.

Back and forth banter ensued with him trying to force me onto other platforms so we could get more personal when he hadn’t even introduced himself yet – I told him he could get to know me on OkCupid or ask me on a date and that was as personal as I was willing to get with someone I’d never met.

Eventually, he told me he was an events coordinator and we agreed on how pointless endless chatting on online platforms are if people aren’t willing to meet in real life.

I then asked him what he was passionate about – meaning hobbies, charity projects etc and he immediately bounced to boasting about what an unusually high libido he has for a 37-year-old guy …

Sigh …

For f***’s sake, what happened to practising decorum with people you’ve just “met”?! I pointed out to him that he should ask himself if that is the kind of thing he’d have said to me if we’d just met a bar or at an event. He answered he would …eeuuuwww!

Later that week, after numerous messages in which he was quite vocal about rape culture and victimization of the culprits by people on social media (seriously??); Andrew informed me that he would quite like to date me but it was dependent on me agreeing to move to WhatsApp.

I once again, gently, reminded him that I wasn’t comfortable doing so – at which point he went completely psycho on me.

A barrage of messages followed in which he accused me of not being a real person, untrustworthy and dishonest.

Right…sorry, dude, you’re blocked! Bye Felicia!

Image credit: edens-org.wikia.com

The Italian Flasher …

The trouble with limiting your search to just your location is just that – it’s limited.

I cast my net wider by amplifying my location search which lead to Casanova20 – a twenty-year-old Italian boy toy who barely gave me time to blush at his compliments of how freaking hot I was before pouncing with the “Do you want exchange some photo hot with me?” line.

flasher gremilin
Image credit: http://www.media.giphy.com

Ignoring the obvious language and grammar barriers, no, Bello, I do not want to see photos of your nasty bits and I sure as hell am not sending you any! I wanted to see that as much as I wanted to see a flasher gremlin …NOT!

Gods, why the f*** do guys the world over think online dating equals instant sex?!

The Cheap Date …

Giovanni was a Game of Thrones –loving, comic book geek horticulturist who loved historical movies, had an eclectic musical taste and adored dogs…so far, so good.

When he invited me, and I stress he invited me, to lunch because he wanted to get to know me better, I happily accepted and we arranged to meet at Cafeen, one of my favourite local Southern Suburbs haunts.

The date went really well for the first hour – we talked at length about travel, series, movies etc but hour two quickly descended into a cesspool of political hatred; how South Africa was going to s***; family drama; unnecessary long explanations of work etc – I barely got more than a “uh huh, really?” into the conversation.

After hogging the spotlight for that final hour, Giovanni called for the cheque and … we went Dutch.

A second date was becoming increasingly unlikely...
Image credit: http://www.s3.amazonaws.com

Are you kidding me?! He invited me to lunch! Call me old fashioned, but when a guy invites a girl to lunch, surely he should be paying?

To add insult to injury, he freaked out because I overpaid the waitress’s tip. Oh hell to the f*** no, Dude! If you are going to make me pay for my meal, you have no f***king say in what I do or not share with the serving staff.