Tinder Stories – The Worst Date Ever – Part 2

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances, I have changed the names of individuals and places. 

Welcome back to part two, Marc is in the bathroom and my best friend is giving me step by step instructions better than Ikea on how to leave.

But what you might have forgotten is that my name for the evening isn’t Seren. It is dumb dumb.

Why you may ask?

Because you know what I didn’t do.

I didn’t leave.

You know what I did do, don’t worry I will just tell you.

Marc came back from the bathroom and a new round of drinks are on the table. Like, two children, we sat in silence pretending nothing was wrong and things would be fine.

Then he said, “so how’s your day going?”

And I picked up my gin and replied “you know what, I have had better Fridays”

“Oh, how come?”

“You are actually kidding right?”

“No, I want to know why you think you have had better Fridays”

I genuinely thought he was taking the piss.

But then I realised he was asking because he wanted me to tell him, to spill my emotions so he could act like it wasn’t any of his fault for the way I felt.

Looking back it took me a long time to realise what happened that evening and to be honest, he did warn me that people that got close to him always got hurt.

I just thought I was smarter.


I was a dumb dumb.

So we are sitting there halfway through dessert which I have just pushed around the plate when I finally say:

“you are being an absolute dick right now and you aren’t making this unpleasant experience”

“Oh really, you were laughing before when we were throwing peanuts at each other.”

Side note: I act like up when I am not in check on my own emotions. 

“You of all people should know, that isn’t something I normally do. Yes, I love to have fun and act silly but this isn’t a time when I would normally do that.”

“Why are you getting so upset?”

“Because you made me feel like this and you don’t even care. I just think we should get out of here and pay the bill. I need some air”

Yes, finally I am making moves out the door.

So we get up, split the bill and stand outside on the sidewalk.

And I relax my jaw for two seconds and word vomit.

“let’s get a drink and talk this out”.

I, being a Libra forever thinking that another person can understand my own point of view just invited Marc a god dam mother fucking Leo for another drink.

Now if you know anything about astrology, then you will know a Leo cannot see any other point of view other than their own and I being a Libra will ALWAYS try to put myself in another person’s shoes.

Sitting down I realise just how upset I am that I have wasted my evening on a dude who clearly thinks the sun shines out of his ass and all I want at this point is an apology but what I got was far far worse.

I won’t go into detail mostly to protect this person but also because I don’t want to remember it. We get into an argument over this entire evening and he lends back in his chair and he spits out.

“I think you’re angry at me because you are holding me to an expectation that we are in a relationship.”

“But we aren’t in a relationship”

“Yeah but I think you think you are.”

“But I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, especially if you are like this.”

“Well, then you can’t be angry at me for tonight.”

“Are you out of your fucking head? 1. I did want this to be SOMETHING more but we cleared that up months ago. 2. I would be angry at you if you did this to me even as my best friend. 3. You cannot be in a relationship if neither of you wants to be in a relationship.”

“Well, I think you think we are in a relationship, so you can’t hold me to the expectation of one for tonight.”

And out of pure frustration and I break. It’s a Friday night and I am crying at a rooftop bar looking too good to be with a blood-covered ass hole.

“This isn’t going anywhere, we are just going in circles and I don’t want to cry, I am cold and this is bullshit.”

So Marc pulls me forward to be under the heater that he is under but in doing so I flail my arms causing me to knock my drink into his crotch.

And you know what my dumb dumb Libra self does? Offers to buy him a new one whilst spitting out apologies over and over again.

We give up on the conversation and being the kind person I insist that he stays at my house because now we are both drunk and I would much rather know he’s safe than rolling around in a gutter somewhere. Yes, I know he deserved to be in the gutter with his bloody hands.

Que next scene: I would like you to welcome back my best friend.

Who I had updated her that Marc and I were going home to mine.

I am passed out in bed and I wake up to a phone call.

It was from Laura.

“Wake up bitch, my mums’ flight got cancelled this morning so you are coming to Fashion Week”.

Bruh. My head hurt, I had a fuck tard in my bed and absolutely nothing to wear.

Laura, could not give a shit.

This woman literally got her outfit in Wellington five weeks prior and she is now giving me 40 minutes to get ready.

That’s what Laura does.

So you know what I did.

What I do fucking best.

Problem solve in a god damn crisis.

I get out of bed, put my contacts in and turn the kettle on. I tie up my hair and stare at my open wardrobe waiting for Queer Eye guys to leap out and take me.

I put some music on and get a wriggle on pounding my face with makeup in the hopes I will learn a god damn lesson.

Then Marc wakes up and the first thing I say to him is:

“I am going to a fashion show with Laura because her mum’s flight has been cancelled so what are you doing today?”

And as he checks his phone he says something about going to the French markets with his friends and I then stopped listening because all my brain is thinking about is how the hell do I get a dude who is hungover, out of my bed in the next 12 minutes.

Simple; as you stand there naked as the day as you were born you ask him if he wants to uber home or be dropped off at the bus station. Because I am sure as hell not giving him a 30-minute lift in the opposite direction after last nights performance.

Putting on his own clothes Marc told me how pretty I looked which was something I had never heard him say before and by this point I couldn’t care about anything that comes out of his mouth.

The moment I woke up that morning, Marc was no longer. He just didn’t know it yet. You see a night of blood, tears and pure frustration can do magical things to you whilst you sleep.

If you ever want to know if someone is worth your time, ask yourself:

“would this make Seren’s blog?”

And if the answer yes. then change his name to Completely Irrelevant after you drop him off.

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A pretty sassy 25-year-old​ living in New Zealand.

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