ringlessandreckless

They say you should never judge a book by its cover. Nor should you judge a man by his nationality, age or the images on his dating profile. Sure what would be the point of being on these dating apps then. So I decided to take a chance, it’s only a drink and a chat at the end of the day. Sure, it’ll be a good experience. YOLO! Hot girl summer incoming (take 2 but who’s counting) Feck it so! I swiped right.

Although I was new to ‘the apps’ I was no novice. I had signed up for Bumble ‘premium’ at the hefty price tag of €27.99 per month. I know, pretty steep, but it’s fairly handy to cut out all the shite and time-wasting. You can cut to the chase with people that you know have liked your profile. You literally have a ‘liked you’ tab. Which I must admit gives me more joy and validation than I would care to admit at 39 years of age. 

This guy was not my usual ‘type’ he was blond, blue eyed and had no facial hair. I like my men dark, burly and bearded. He was also 10 years my junior which I was quite hesitant about initially. “Thoughts of ‘What am I doing?’, the double standard around women dating younger men, and what people might say all played on my mind.”

Am I a cougar? What would we have in common to talk about, being in different life stages and all that. I thought about it and decided I wasn’t looking for anything serious with him so I may as well meet him and have a bit of craic. So I said ‘why not’ variety is the spice of life. It’s all experience at the end of the day.

So, this guy was 29, from South Africa and seemed fairly mature and confident for his age, which I liked. There was the right amount of chat before we moved off the app which was quicker than what I had experienced before. Considering 90% of chats seem to go nowhere and are full of time-wasters, I appreciated the fact that he was proactive and direct. 

The date was set. Nice popular little spot in Ranelagh. Saturday. 6pm. I was nervous. I absolutely hate the part in between the date being set and the actual date itself. So much time for overthinking, self- sabotage, time to back out, and ‘what are you doing Andrea, he’s 29!’ In general, too much time to question your life choices and time to spiral about pretty much everything really! Also the fear of being stood up and being catfished lives very much rent free in my head on the build up to a date. 

It was Saturday and I was busy going about my day. I tried not to do too much thinking. I got home from doing all my bits, showered, washed my hair (huge), got dressed and made myself look nice 😊. Putting on make up in the heat is a bitch and there’s a fine line of getting the nice balance of wearing make up without it being too obvious you’re actually wearing make up and trying to avoid the shotgun-set-to-whore look! I threw on my usual fail safe date outfit and left. Happy enough with how I looked. 

The LUAS to town was packed on the sunny hot Saturday we were having in the midst of our summer heatwave.I could feel the beginnings of a gorgeous, glistening sweaty upper lip forming, followed shortly by the sweaty pits. Fantastic. He said he would try to get a table outside to enjoy the last of the daytime sun. I’m glad it was too busy for that and all we could manage was a table inside. The thoughts of being up close and personal with a stranger on a hot day like that in the bright blistering sun was not a good look when trying to look cool and composed. The girls know. 

I walked in, spotted him sitting in the corner with his back to me watching the big screen showing one of the World Cup matches. I went over and tapped him on the shoulder, said his name hoping I had the right guy. He turned around, stood up and gave me a hug. Ok, so far so good, polite, manners. 

It was then I realised that the photos he had used were clearly from a different time in his life. But I thought, OK, could’ve been worse. I decided not to throw the baby out with the bath water just yet. 

However, I did feel a tad overdressed and let’s just say looked and smelt more fresh too. I think it’s fair to say I arrived with first date energy and vibes and he was a bit more ‘went for a few drinks with a mate and stumbled across this woman from bumble kinda vibes’. He looked like he was popping out to the shop for milk. Ffs. I would’ve appreciated the memo- would’ve only been delighted to wear my leggings and a cosy jumper. Don’t get me started on the skechers. 

Anyways, drinks were had, the conversation flowed easily enough and a few little smooches were had. He bought a few drinks, I bought one or two. After strategically dropping a story or two of how my last date was awful and I was splitting the cost of coffee and absolutely everything in between he seemed horrified. It worked a treat 😜 I am not that kind of woman trust me. I am all for equality (within reason) but I was badly stung on a previous date, like you wouldn’t believe. More on that ejit later. 

We ended up going back to mine. As I said he was nice, it was a nice relaxed sunny evening and the beer goggles, sorry I mean drinks were going down a treat. So we moved from small talk to less talk. 

A few things here that gave me the heebie jeebies. Things took a weird turn when my underwear became the subject of a weird shall we say sensory inspection… Wow, that was a new one for me. I was grossed out. Then he made a strange request for me to explore his back area.. I politely declined. I am far from a prude and am very open-minded but call me crazy to think maybe in a relationship these kind of requests would be grand, however not a random hook-up with someone you probably won’t see again. Maybe that’s the perfect scenario for some though?

In the heat of the moment I was getting all kinds of compliments, including being called a MILF. Ehm… thanks I suppose? But, last time I checked I had no children. I took it as a weird compliment and not the fact that he was inadvertently calling me old! I asked him if he knew what a MILF was, and he said “oh you know what I mean!” Ooooooh- k. Cheers. Not quite sure how I felt about that one!

Ugh..how do you politely ask someone to leave? Is it rude to offer to call them a taxi? Is that still a thing? 

So, sin é. He headed home, leaving me with a lot to process, some flattering, some confusing and some involving my underwear that I certainly did not see coming. 

Looking back, maybe the warning sign should’ve been when he casually informed me that he was ‘African from the waist down.’ In hindsight, the clues were there. 

Stay safe out there ladies, happy swiping. Plenty more fish in the sea, some of which are best thrown back! 

Andi xx