“You’re going to love it there, Suzi!” Lisa proclaimed excitedly. “It’s a bit fancy for me, but pretentious enough for you, you’ll have fun!” Yep… another dinner date to a place I haven’t heard of but apparently I’m wanky and pretentious enough to fit right in. Winning so far on the menu choice. We are calling this one a Tinder date even though it’s not… But it still kinda is. Let me explain. I started chatting to this guy about a year ago on Tinder. It was going well until it wasn’t and I can’t actually remember why but when I deleted it, we stopped contacting each other, despite having each other’s phone numbers.
Anyway, fast forward a year, I decided to join the cool kids by downloading SnapChat. So you know how it imports all your contacts and tells you whether they’re on SnapChat or not? So excited by the ability to have a disappearing chat history, I blindly added everyone and here we are. Meet Mr. White. Nicknamed after the late great Barry White. Late 20s, handsome face and a nice smile and had me stitches as he sent me snaps of himself singing “can’t get enough of your love baby…” to his coffee. Hence the nickname. I can’t believe I completely missed this bloke?! Handsome AND funny? We arranged a date. And now we’re all caught up.
I wander through an alcove of bustling shops. People are laughing and eating and enjoying the waterfront. “Such a nice spot he’s picked,” I thought as I congratulated myself on this amazing life choice. I smiled in advance of the wonderful meal I was about to eat and the wonderful company I was about to be in, because how could it not be when you’re with a man who sings Barry White to his coffee in the morning? This guy is marriage material, I’m certain of it. I finally see the sign for the restaurant and get a little stab of nervousness…. There wasn’t anyone outside. Odd for a waterfront restaurant. I push the door open, it’s not locked, but the only person inside is the bartender. He must have seen the look of panic on my face and quickly gestured to my date who was sitting behind the door. As I looked, he stood up… I immediately regretted my dress choice as I think he did his. T-Shirt, shorts and Runners. Him, not me. I wore a dress and high heels.
“It’s nice to meet you, you look nice, I wish I made more effort.” He said VERY QUIETLY. I assured him that it was ok and sat down. Then nothing. Literally nothing. Crickets. Not the Barry White singing extrovert I’d gotten to know on snap. Ok so, he’s a bit shy. I can still work with that. We certainly can talk about food. He seems content with his choice but doesn’t do anything except examine his glass of water so I gesture to the waiter that we are ready to order. He comes over and says “sorry, there’s not enough people in the restaurant to keep the kitchen open. It’s just shut” My smile fades. It’s seven fucking thirty at night. Mr. White doesn’t say anything to this recent development. I’m starving. So I basically force him to leave and we go and get a less pretentious, less delicious alternative based mostly on the fact the kitchen was open and it sold $5 frozen daiquiris.
I was still really struggling with this guy. I preceded to steam roll the entire conversation, stopping sporadically to test if he was ready to participate. Which he wasn’t until beer #3. Grasping at some straws, I did the usual “how many brothers and sisters do you have, where did you grow up” etc, but you’re supposed to ask that shit back, y’know? That’s how a conversation works. But nothing. What do you do in your spare time? I like sports….. me: Cool, what kinds? Mr. White: NRL. My inner monologue: OMG QUICK SUZI, What’s the name of that footballer that pissed in his own mouth??? Me out loud: I can’t believe that guy from that team pissed in his own mouth…. Date: CHEEEP CHEEEP. Like for real that’s how it went.
His awkwardness made me fucking awkward. Until I hit pay dirt and also what would be the literal kiss of death on this date. Me: Got a pretty interesting job though, surely you have some cool stories? Date: Oh yeah I do actually… I pulled a dead cat out of a wall once but it was really badly decomposed so only the head and spine came with it… hell of a time getting it’s legs and stuff *************** insert more gross shit here************ There’s one particular story he decided to share, which I can’t repeat on here, but next time you’re out with me having a drink, I will tell you all about it. It involves many gay men and a packet of drinking straws.
We ate, I drank my daiquiri and surprise surprise, didn’t want to finish my dinner. He politely turned down my offer to go halves and picked up the check and we awkwardly walked to our respective cars, which awkwardly ended up being parked next to each other. Awkward. The only reason I would contact him again is to tell him that his tail light was out.