It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date since someone let Sasquatch out into society (and an even longer dry spell if you know what I mean) but I figured the emotion scarring has started to fade and I was ready to subject myself to some more humiliation/self-deprecation/self-esteem damage so back onto tinder I went. I have been suffering a bit recently from tinder-fatigue (it’s a real thing… you should google it) so it was deleted for a good month before reactivation and I decided on a clean state, which meant hours of swiping and enough small chat to render you catatonic.
Got a match with someone who looked pretty normal. I think I’ve said this in a previous blog but here are the things I tend to look for… No body shot = Husky, full body shot with no shirt on = narcissist, photo in Gucci business suit = Megalomaniac, photo with no teeth = just no. Remember what Bridget says, no alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits or perverts. So anyway, he ended up being lovely. I know, you’re shocked and you haven’t even heard about the date. Cause I know you’re reading this thinking OMG Suzi you’re such a fucking shit magnet, just cut to the bloody chase, I don’t have all day.” But seriously, he was lovely.
When I saw him, I totes had a Bridget moment, minus the reindeer jumper. He was pretty clean cut and well spoken. He was educate and funny and I just kept thinking the whole time, wow, he’s like, so normal… We had really pleasant pre-dinner drinks, for which he insisted on paying. A really amazing dinner at a very fancy waterfront restaurant, again, despite my protest (but actually grateful because when the bill came I thought I might have to sell a liver on the black market) and then delicious cocktails at a waterfront cocktail bar (for which I paid… girlpower/equality baby). All the while he spoke about his perfectly normal upbringing. Made perfectly normal jokes, talked about his perfectly normal hobbies and perfectly normal job.
Right… well, thanks be to the tinder dating gods. Here is a perfectly normal and nice bloke with some actual potential. The night ended up taking its due course. Too many cocktails and a $15 flat rate for parking all weekend, we ended up heading back to his place. That was nice too. He was just sooooo nice. Did I say that already? Everything was SO NICE!!! In the morning I’m wandering around his perfectly normal place perusing all these perfectly normal man things. I stood and stared contently out the window onto his back deck, observing the little grey birds perched on his outdoor furniture. “Aww look, they’re taking shelter from the rain!” I said to him. “Little buggers…” (I didn’t hear this man swear once all night, just as a side note.) “They always poo on my deck furniture and it takes ages to clean.” He replied with a slightly furrowed brow. “Would you like me to shoo them away?” I said reaching for the door. He told me not to worry about it and disappeared momentarily.
So here it is. The moment where my little normal bubble was burst. He returned with a pretty professional looking shangai (is that what you call them? Slingshot? Whatever, it was massive) and a bag of ball bearings. He flung up open the window and took aim. At this point I had to turn away. When I heard the WOOSH and the CHEEEEEAP CHEEEEAP die down I turned around. It was like a little birdy bomb had exploded and there were feathers EVERYWHERE.
I’m tapping out man… fuck this shit. #singleforlife