I’m going to tell you about D. Partly because I’m not ready to write about A, and partly because of his bizarre behaviour today.
I met D on Tinder about a year ago. His conversation was rather sparkling for a while, and the rapport was far more constant than it is with the average tinder match. We didn’t arrange to go out for some time after matching (unusual for me – I tend to arrange dates sooner rather than later because I hate the concept of getting to know each other virtually). Our first date was at a speakeasy in Soho where we strangely drank curry and bread flavoured cocktails. He didn’t look much like his photos, but that didn’t matter – it was obviously him. And he was nice.
(Well… he was until we ended up at a second bar where he committed the terrible, terrible crime of trying to show off by making a (very attractive) absolute fool who was loitering around look silly, and ended up looking far worse himself. Thinking about it, the first date wasn’t great.) Read the rest of this entry