5 March 2014


Have you heard? I'm back internet dating!

I know I swore off internet dating a while ago - too many freaks, too many £££, but I was recommended a London based site that I have to say is coming through with the gays. After being on there for a week I already have two dates set up AND they're with relatively normal looking people.

However I decided to go on a practice date this weekend before I started dating anyone half decent. I know harsh, but welcome to the world of internet dating - it's really cutting. And transparent. I sent a message to a guy the other night, referencing something from his "About Me" blurb - made it funny - and I can now see that he has read that message, checked out my profile and not messaged me back. I'm sorry, I'm hardly a munter and at least answer an engaging question that I sieved out from your fucking dull profile.

I may be coming at this the wrong way.

So anyway, a guy messaged me out of the blue and I decided he would be my warm up before the real invitations started flooding in - not really my type, his hair looked like he had taken styling tips from Peter Andre circa 1995, but I thought what harm could a coffee date in Soho on a Saturday afternoon with a Myst-e-rious Girl do?
I was late so I texted and he replied that he was already there, but I thought, who cares this is a practice date and he has hair that looks like he has just stepped out of a greasy shower.

I walked in and The Practice Date was sitting alone at the end of a long communal bench. Let me tell you, girlfriend needs to update his profile pic because he was hot. Long gone was the Peter Andre look-a-like hairstyle and in it's place was a salt and pepper do that would out Clooney, Clooney.

We sat down and right out of the gate we were chatting about everything from gay rights in Russia to when did we think Betty White from the Golden Girls was going to die. It was one of those great first dates that you hoped would never end.

OK a few stats: he is Indian - I know, I'm a Pilau Rice Queen (that's it, I promise), he is a doctor, he lives in Hampstead, he is a doctor, he is originally from Wales, but has lost the accent, he is a doctor, he prefers riding a bicycle to a car, he is a doctor, he prefers dogs to cats and he is a doctor.

So we finish coffee and walked out into the early spring sun for a stroll around a bustling Soho. As we walked we invaded each others personal space with gentle arm grazes and nudges. We even stood gazing into each others eyes as I teetered on a curb, achingly close to a kiss, giggling at the moment. It was so fucking cute, I felt like I was in a British rom-com called Notting Actually.

After a few blocks lost in conversation not realising we had been going round in circles, I could see him looking at his phone. He had eluded to the fact he had plans later and I asked if he needed to go and meet those plans. He said yes and then asked if I wanted to join him for a drink with his friends. I hesitated initially and then agreed to one. So off we went, almost skipping, down Old Compton street.

I have to say his friends were a bit of debbie downer and I couldn't wait to get away. So after one drink I made my excuses and left, but not before I told my Practice Date that I had a great time and made a plan for the coming week to meet and perhaps have dinner. We both agreed on a day and then gave him a peck and a cuddle and off I went.

I floated down to Leicester Square and then onto the tube, my mind racing, replaying every moment, every glance. I made mental preparations to introduce him to my friends and family. I even thought about what colour Sari I would wear when we tied the knot in a lavish four day Bollywood style wedding on the beaches of Goa with my entire back catalogue of Kylie CDs as a dowry.

I may have skipped ahead.

So on Monday morning he messaged me asking if we could move Thursday to Saturday. Oh and also if it would be OK if we could be just friends.

Erm buried the lead!

WHAAATT? Friends? I just bought a home henna kit!

But seriously how does that date equate to a "just be friends" message? And no we cannot move Thursday to Saturday because there isn't going to be a Thursday at all! I have enough friends, what I don't have is enough boyfriends. And that's exactly what I said back to him. He didn't reply.

Maybe I was his practice date.

1 comment:

Gay Blog Award