My plan to turn up looking fantastic and stunning him into a state of seduction was becoming something of a distant dream, as I wandered around attached to Google Maps like a lost tourist, in torrential rain – I finally admitted defeat and called him…
Ever the gentleman he came running to my rescue. Only by the time he did, I had already been standing in gale force winds…so rather than looking like a combination of Scarlett Johansson meets Angelina Jolie – I just resembled a bag lady. More specifically, the old lady in Mary Poppins who feeds the birds! Hair flying all over the place, my scarf had also somehow managed to mangle itself around my head, but my main mistake was wearing a dress; a dress that blew up in the wind – exposing all my lady parts.
It is safe to say that my much anticipated ‘grand entrance’ had gone completely awry and I felt more like a bedraggled cat that had been left out in the garden during a storm, than a movie star. All in all I looked a state – but on the plus side he was the same man from the pictures and his uncanny resemblance to Ryan Gosling was only exemplified in the flesh.
Having already flashed him my bum during my Marilyn moment outside, I took the easy option to subdue my shame…I plunged headfirst into vodka. Losing myself in his eyes (or to my double vision) I began to bask in the gorgeousness of this man and within 20 minutes I had already psychotically married him in my head and was picturing what our babies would look like.
As I received my friend’s text to find out how my date was going, I momentarily caught a glimpse of my reflection. Reeling in horror at the sight of my own face – I ran as fast as humanly possible to the ladies loo for a beauty overhaul, but not before I replied to inform her of my impending marriage to him.
This was by far the best Tinder date and actual date in general that I have ever had – the fact that he could see past the smeared make-up, the wet hair and was clearly wowed by my inner beauty and personality was brilliant.
Attempting to fix my hair with the hand-drier and plastering my face with a layer of new make-up meant I was probably looking more like a drag queen than I would care to admit…suddenly the paranoia set in! I had been gone for far too long, oh God what if he thinks I’m doing a poo!? I hurried myself up and tried to run back to the table in an elegantly fast but yet casual manner (as if I had not just been in the toilet for a very long time).
He then, very uncomfortably, informed me that I had just sent him a text? I stared at him in a state of confusion – it turns out, I had not sent my friend the text proclaiming that I was going to marry him…I had in fact texted him.
He has never returned my calls.