“Thanks for hanging out, have fun at your sister’s.” – his follow up text message after the first date.
Hm… what kind of “date” is it, if one side calls it a “hang out”? Really? Why couldn’t he just call it for what it was? A date? *eye roll* You’re a 38 year old man, for goodness sakes! Call a date, a date, FFS!
After the first date, he texted about a week later, suggesting to “hang out” again, but didn’t actually make any suggestions. Bleh. So of course, I had to make up the plans. Fine. Even though I made the plans, he suggested meeting at 2pm. 2pm? Wth? Second date and no suggestion of having lunch together? Huh?
We met outside Wynyward station, walked towards Circular Quay and decided to get a takeaway iced coffee from a Harbourside cafe. The barista announced they were ready, and we stood there awkwardly for a bit until, after an age he pulled out his wallet to pay for the both of them. Considering I had paid for the coffees on our first date, I didn’t think it was too much for him to return the favour this time around. Geez, talk about tightass!
Sipping on our drinks, we zig zagged through the crowd, over towards the Opera House to see a live artist exhibition in where the artist would be suspended by 20,000 helium balloons. #prettycool
Image: Design Boom
Anyways, we sat among the rows of seats and shared our favourite movies, music, backgrounds blah blah and even at the 2ish hour mark of the date, I thought the conversation/date was actually going quite well.
We left the Opera House and walked through The Rocks Markets and the whole time, whilst we were browsing the stalls, he always walked 1-2 metres ahead of me and never next to me. So it was super annoying trying to have a conversation because his voice always projected in front of him, so I couldn’t hear him as I was behind him. Even after I asked him to walk slower, he would for a second maybe, then resort back to 1-2 metres in front again. And to make it worse, it became more and more noticeable that he had issues making eye contact during conversation. Sure I get that you might not hold someone’s gaze the whole time, but it felt like it was almost impossible to catch his eyes, because they were always cast down! Now, don’t tell me was nerves, because it had been almost 3 hours into the second date already. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice it before, but it may have also been partly, because we were seated facing the stage and not seated facing each other…
We walked up George St, got a fruit juice and sat down at Westfield, then the conversation suddenly turned sour. His true colours were starting to come through and he sounded like a racist, sexist, homophobe, a tightass and generally a pessimist. He said things like:
- “Oh, it sounds better if a female receptionist picks up the phone at his dentist\’s office. There was a guy who picked up the phone last time, it just sounded wrong.”
- Made negative comments about male nurses in general.
- “Only gay guys are flight attendants. Why would any guy ever want to be one? Guys want to be pilots!”
- “I wish my mum married a black guy, then I’d be more athletically built.”
- “Only Mainlanders and bogans from the country shop in Gucci.”
- “I’m paranoid about my privacy, so I refuse to join any form of social media.” (Geez buddy, who’s spying on you?)
- “There’s a gay guy at work, I think he’s weird and try not to talk to him.”
- Made general comments about himself “being too old, too lazy etc” and very clearly being unhappy about aspects of his life, but clearly being too lazy to change.
Seriously, all these quotes are word for word. I could not make this shit up even if I tried.
I was seriously relieved to get away, when the time came to go to dinner with my family. (Um, why didn’t I try and get away earlier?!)
Not to mention he texted a few days later, to ask if I was free to “catch up” again. Zomg. Be a man and just say date. What are we? 16 years old? Long lost friends?
Um. No thanks. Next!’
