In a new weekly feature, Her.ie goes behind enemy lines to see what it’s really like to be single in Ireland.
From speed dating to making speedy escapes, our no-holds-barred blog will follow one girl’s attempts to venture into the dating jungle, play the field and share any wisdom that she finds along the way!
Week Nine: The Great Famine
Like many things in life, dating can tend to be a feast or a famine. I am currently enduring the latter. (Well, from McHottie, the only way was down.)
It seems that after my enthusiastic engagement with the eligible male population over the last few weeks, the dating gods have decided that I’ve has as much excitement as I’m allowed for a while. Despite putting in some solid groundwork in recent days on my best friend Tinder, there has been more sexual tension between me and the middle-aged shop keeper in Centra than any of the guys I’ve been chatting to on the app.
I thought I had finally struck gold last night, when a cute guy messaged me immediately after we matched and turned out to have an interesting job, good banter and close proximity. However, my hopes were dashed when he mentioned that he was only in town for the weekend and I realised that I was heading West in the morning. So near and yet so far… yet again.
It’s gotten so bad at this point that I’ve started smiling at semi-attractive randomers on the street on my way to work and self-medicating with bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon while drooling over Don Draper.
But enough moaning. While I may be stranded in a desert of solitude, some of you lovely readers have taken up the mantel and been doing enough dating for us all.
Here’s how Gill got on her recent adventures:
“I eventually agreed to a Tinder date after a couple of months being on it! What not sooner? Honestly, I was freaked! We had been messaging for a while and we eventually became friends on Facebook. He’s an American living in Kildare and he said he’s in Dublin all the time. We had a mutual liking for some of the same books and movies so it was off to a good start! He was really cute too… except for his photos when he had long hair, which I hoped he still didn’t have. After agreeing to meet for drinks, I immediately wanted to cancel but was talked out of it by friends.
I mentioned that I wanted to see a match that was on at 8pm so he said we should meet at 7pm at Trinity’s Arch. I came into town earlier to meet one of my girlfriends for a glass (bottle) of wine, to take the edge off. I arrived at our designated meeting place and waited…and waited. Walking through the arch to leave and I spot him. 7.20pm. He comes over for a hug which I interpret as a kiss on the cheek, which would feel like the most awkward thing in the world if I didn’t have those three glasses of wine.
He’s wearing a beanie hat and, score, it looks like he doesn’t have long hair! We find a table in front of a big screen in a bar and sit down. He kindly offers to buy me a drink and I end up going for a pint of Heineken as I think one more glass of wine would send me over the edge. For the first half of the match, everything was fine. I was delighted to explain some of the rules and what was happening, sipping away on my pint.
Then half time hits, I’m only halfway through my pint and I’m borderline drunk. He gets himself another drink and we’re chatting again. I turn toward the screen for the second half and he puts his arm around me. A few seconds later, he squeezes me with his arm. I didn’t let myself think anything of it until he did it again and again and then consecutively every minute. I turn around to look at him, as it was getting annoying at this stage, and he looks at me and says “Sorry, I like to cuddle”.
Eh… is this what he thinks cuddling is? I found it so so bizarre, these sporadic squeezes every minute. I think he got the point after I hunched my shoulders up and down (doing a sort of swivel) to sort of shrug him off… giving the half smile, but showing I’m not that comfortable. He then puts his hands between his thighs, hunches his shoulders, has that puppy eye look (head tilted downward, with his eyes looking at me) and tells me that he thinks I’m cute. Oh Jesus…
As the match progresses, so does my irritation with his endless amount of questions. Mental note; If I ever happen to meet up with this guy again, I am never going to watch a game with him… never. He gets up to get another drink, I offer to get this round but he insists on buying. I order a glass of wine, f**k it.
After the match, I’m annoyed but excited (or just a bit langers) about this pub he wants to take me to, which sounds amazing. He calls it as if pronounced “DC’s”. I don’t know many bars in Dublin and he really talked this place up so I was really looking forward to it. We arrive to Dicey’s. Excitement gone. Don’t get me wrong, I like Diceys, I was just expecting something completely different?!
We go to the bar and I buy a round of drinks. We go and sit down and end up chatting again… at this point, I feel he knows all of my siblings down to their birthdays, every pet I’ve owned, and everything I said during my first confession. I’m drunk, yapping and find out that he works with children with special needs.
I end up wanting to go for a dance. He’s horrendous. Even though I’m really drunk, he’s embarrassing me. He wants to literally hump me on the dance floor. We sit down again and he takes off his beanie hat. Oh dear, why did he do that. Yes, he does have long, matted hair that was in a ponytail under his hat. So that’s what people mean when they find something so revolting that they ‘throw up a bit in their mouths’. Guess I’m not a virgin to that any more.
He tells me his last bus to Kildare is at 00.30. I have to ask him if there is an earlier one cause I have to meet my sister. Lies. I can’t be with this guy another second. My sister later informs me that when you are working with people with special needs, you need to put your arm around them and squeeze them every now and then. Feeling like a wagon? Understatement of the year.”
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