Tinder Stories – Why boys are dumb? – Part 1 an update.

I asked a hot second ago on my Instagram if I should do an update on all the previous tinder stories and the poll read 100% so here we are.

But don’t panic because this series isn’t over and I have a few more stories up my sleeve and well, I am still single. There will be a day I wrap up this series but today is not that day. 

So let us all take a trip down memory lane and revisit the previous stories. 

Back in part one, I had a trip to Max’s house. You can catch up on all the details here.

But it was a few months after that night when I got too drunk and redownloaded Kic because I was seeing what was on my Apple account – would recommend you go for a scroll as it is rather funny. Especially when you have had too many gins. 

And lo and behold I had notification from Max. I snorted so hard because I forgot all about him. 

This is what I was missing out on over the period of weeks. Max was true to his character; incredibly dumb and persistent. 

My favourite part of this screenshot is:

  1. the time I took it. 
  2. the consistency of when he messages me. 
  3. and the desperation that can be felt in his last message. 

Since this amazing moment Max has appeared on my Tinder not once, not twice but a grand total of 4 times. He also tried to add me on Instagram but I blocked him the second time. 

Hot tip: really don’t be like Max and don’t ever say “come here”. 

Moving on we go to the hilarious time I got catfished. This story actually took a twist thanks to social media. Shout out to Louise who follows the blog and broke things down for me and slid into my DMs. 

Matt or Greg – we may never know. He was actually using photos of an actor called Derek Theler. As Lou explained he is an American actor on the show Baby Dady. He is not from New Zealand or the UK. But if we ever want to figure out, I have an unwanted/unasked for dick pic to compare notes too, thinking about it though, that’s more than likely fake too.

The mystery continues and I am still disappointed in my ability to recognise a tall white generic male. 

Next week I have part 2 of the updates. Ladies and gentleman, you are not ready for what is coming. 

Seriously. 

Hint: they know…

He ruined pasta with his farts – Tinder Stories Part 4

Alas, we find ourselves once again reading about a story a tinder date that didn’t work out. Yes, Seren once again went on a date. I am now officially adding perseverance to my CV.

So let us again take a trip back in time. It was a Wednesday, its 8pm and I still park 50m away from where he actually lives because of what I said in Part 1. Brent and I we going for a drink in Mission Bay and for those of you who aren’t from Auckland is a place with a beach, beer and well somewhere to walk just on the outskirts of the CBD.

It was literally and figuratively downhill from there. The stroll to alcohol was rather painful because of a few things:

  1. I wore heels and walking downhill was crushing my toes.
  2. The alcohol was too far away and not in my body already.
  3. What the topic of conversation was couldn’t have been more strange.

As Brent and I walked you could clearly hear that I had overdressed thanks to my heels but I doubt he cared as he told me all about his digestive habits.

You too now get to enjoy the conversation I somehow didn’t run away from. He told me that he eats a lot of food. More than anyone at work. Do remember he isn’t overweight in the slightest and he hits the gym at least 3 times a week. So 3 times more than me.

With eating a large amount of varied food came a conversation that most couples never have and if they do its many many moons into their relationship. Not minutes into meeting each other.

Brent informed me very clearly that with a large consumption of carbohydrates that his body proceeds to create large amounts of unpleasant gas.

We were about 6 minutes into our walk. We had just gotten past the small talk of what we had for dinner and well now I was worried about what else might happen tonight.

He continued to talk about his body and all its magic tricks, I repeated the lines that came out of him and he laughed at his own conversation.

“So pasta isn’t good for me but I eat it anyway”.

“Pasta isn’t good for you, that isn’t ideal”

* Brent laughs *

* Seren stares at the ground screaming internally “THIS DATE ISNT FUCKING IDEAL” *

We finally arrive at the bar and grab a table. After a vigorous walk downhill because the quicker we get to the bar the quicker I can drink, the quicker this can all be over.

Now I totally understand what is it to get nervous around a complete stranger, I have done that. I actually blurted out “So do you like cheese?” on a date once. He was good looking and well that got me really frazzled and that is all my brain could come up with when he looked at me.

Heres a tip for all of you, just don’t talk about bodily functions on a date. No one needs to know when you poop.

Brent is sitting there unzipping his jacket when it gets stuck. Just like the conversation did only a few minutes prior.

“oh that is so annoying, I only just brought this jacket, see look”

He then proceeds to pull his jacket around his body in some sort of exorcist fashion and show me that he still had the tags attached to the jacket.

It was now at this moment when I thought to myself, how the fuck did I end up here.

Once again I needed a fake phone call whisking me away but instead, I endured hoping it would get better.

Its like when you are yelling at the tv when you are watching a horror saying to turn around and run in the opposite direction and not look back.

I was the classic white girl who thought she should check it out and ends up dying.

Instead of dying, it’s just me wasting my time.

It was to the disappointment of Brent that I wrapped things up early. Girls gotta sleep and get the fuck out of there.

So as we started the uphill walk back to his house he thought he would revisit our topics of conversations.

We were mostly home and mostly through the bad conversations about how often Brent goes to the bathroom which rest assured is a normal amount when my phone starts to ring.

Thank the baby Jesus it’s my mum. Jenny saves the day with a random phone call

And you sure as hell know I take the call explaining I was just catching up with a friend and she decodes it as a date and askes me all the closed questions.

“Is it going well?” “Um no not really”

“Are you okay?” “yeah yeah”

“Want to call me after?” “That sounds like a great idea”

I hugged Brent goodbye, jumped in my car and well put my mum on speaker phone and proclaimed how fine I am with being single at the traffic lights.

 

 

He was my first and didn’t know it – Tinder Stories Part 3

Let us go back in time. To the first ever Tinder date I went on.

And by date I really mean coffee.

You see in the beginning I was rather tame. I was the girl who got asked out. Don’t worry I got rid of that very naive girl.

Because of this experience.

We shall call this guy, Tim.

He is a financial advisor and in his late 20’s.

And as they all are, he was lovely. Very friendly and not a murderer. Tim didn’t know that he was my first ever Tinder date.

Tim got an early coffee date in Ponsonby on a Wednesday.

Giving you some backstory here, I had drunkenly agreed to meet Tim in a club one evening but instead went home by passing the McDonalds on Great North Road, crawled into bed with a cheeseburger (WITHOUT PICKLE BECAUSE THAT IS THE DEVILS FOOD) and went to sleep. I woke up to many messages and a sore head.

Needless to say, I said sorry and made a new time.

So I have been running around all morning, working and doing errands, Tim and I have finally agreed on a place and a time.

1pm on Ponsonby Road.

Its now 12.42pm and my phone is at 1%.

Yeah, yeah, we know now that the universe was trying to give me a sign – WHICH I CLEARLY DIDNT TAKE.

So being the smart gal that I am, I use my car’s clock, wait until 12.45 pm and head into the cafe.

Being nervous I thought it would take 15 minutes for me to walk from my car to the cafe.

Girl. It was a 60-second walk.

But that doesn’t matter because I checked my watch.

Which I look at to see that it is not working.

Yes, yes sign number two.

WE GET IT.

I order a coffee and find a seat. Because I don’t want to be late when I had stood him up that weekend.

Now I will tell you time does not move more slowly than when you are waiting for a Tinder date.

So I get halfway through my latte when a tall guy in a full suit strolls through the door.

I smile and he walks over.

And before I can even stand up to give him a hug and apologize for standing him up that one time.

Tim says:

“Why did you not pick up your phone when I called you?”

Now listen, we literally had not even said hello yet.

My first words to him in the flesh are.

“My phone died.”

And just like the millennial generation, we are he fired back with:

“your lying”.

To which I pressed the home button of my phone multiple times to show how it just wasn’t working.

And like a three-year-old, he snatched it out of my hands and tried himself.

Now I was taught never to snatch and never to take anything that wasn’t yours.

But I think Tim missed those lessons because he’s now trying to turn on my very dead phone.

He shrugs and asks me if I have a drink and at this point, I don’t want to give him any of my time so I just point to my coffee and offer the fakest smile my body could conjure up.

Tim starts a conversation in regards to me flaking on him the other weekend and I take the opportunity to apologize and say that it would not have been a good idea anyway.

Then the waitress walks over.

And Tim ask if I would like a drink and I re-point at my coffee. He then orders a whisky and ginger ale.

Now whisky can be cool. But he asks me if I want a proper drink. Reminder, its 1pm on a Wednesday.

Here is an insight to all of you, listen to people when they tell you what they have planned for the day.

I would love a drink but guess what, I have to go and take care of small humans, drive them around and then go and do my third job later that evening.

So no.

No thank you Tim.

Then it occurred to me, I will have no idea what the time is or when can I can get the hell out of this situation. I can’t even check in to say that I haven’t been murdered or take a fake phone call.

So I think to myself, this is your first ever time and you should just give Tim a chance. Think about the other person Seren and then I realise Tim is talking and I really haven’t been listening. This Tinder dating thing is not as easy as I was expecting. I am not like a duck to water this time. I am a duck to a dessert, confused to how I even got to this.

So I chime into the conversation and ask the normal questions of how is work going and have you has it been busy.

I ask him a question about himself to which he responds with “oh, I am a really laid back guy”.  What I am seeing in front of me is this.

A dude who goes to the gym 6 days a week, wakes up at 9am and goes to work around 2pm, is covered in gold jewellery. By covered I mean; gold watch, gold rings, a gold bangle and a gold chain. He also is smoking and offers me one to which I politely decline.

And out of the blue, he straight up asks me when I see myself getting married. Listen, buddy, I don’t know what I am having for dinner tonight let alone when I want to get married. All I know is that it’s not going to be to you and now I have finished my coffee and should really go but the conversational flow is definitely not leaning that way so I just say fuck it to another $5 and 30 minutes of my time and order another coffee.

I have no idea what time it is and the waitress has no idea that I would love her to save me but we can all just pretend that this is all going better than it looks.

Skip ahead in the conversation, he’s on his third cigarette and second whisky and I now know he’s looking to settle down. I ask a very difficult question. “Why do you find yourself single?”

The response sealed the deal. Put the nail in the coffin and made me delete the app for about a week because I had forgotten that men like this actually exist.

“I guess I am single because I want someone who will fit into my life. I don’t see myself changing because my life is great.”

And just like a scene from Limitless, I watched the next phase of my potential life play out. I’ll give you a sneak peak, it doesn’t end well. I cook chicken, steam broccoli and give up all my aspirations for a man who likes to wear too many gold accessories.

So I asked for the time, fake gasped like any good woman knows how to do and made it so believable that I just had to run because I couldn’t miss the school pick up even though it was 2.15pm.

I’m pretty sure he never figured out I was lying because he asked to meet again. And I said I was busy for the next while. I mean I was, busy building a life that wouldn’t give up.

Fun fact, I saw Tim in a club many moons later and even then he said we should go and get coffee. I also think Tim has coffee and whisky very confused.

That time I got catfished – Tinder Stories Part 2

Swiping away on Tinder there are a few things that go through one’s head.

  1. This is horrible and I am a bad person for saying no to all these potentially lovely people because they don’t look good.
  2. I swear I have seen this profile before.
  3. Superlike the person you know and now have caught on Tinder.
  4. I swear I have seen this profile before.
  5. Unmatch all the drunk 3am matches.
  6. Freak out because you realised you got catfished.

For those of you who don’t know what catfishing is, let us turn to our old faithful Urban Dictionary:

Someone who pretends to be someone else, especially on the internet. Found on anywhere from Instagram to Twitter to chat sites, these people use fake pictures to disguise who they are. A synonym for this in some situations may be “troll” because the majority of catfish out there are simply out to troll others, while others have their own reasons for this approach. Often catfish, once discovered, are faced with people full of annoyance and frustration at being “catfishes”

– Urban Dictionary 2018

Now I never thought I would get catfished, I mean does anyone. If I was going to throw down stereotypes, I would say men get catfished, not women. But alas, its 2018 and well here is the story of the time I got catfished.

Being a tall gal that I am, 5’11 if anyone is really interested, my perpetual fear is that I potentially meet ‘The One” and he turns out to be shorter than me. Oh and if he put tomato sauce all over his food. Both things that I would just say no to even if he was perfect in all other areas.

So when a tinder profile says heights, its a factor. If I think a guy looks short in comparison to his friends in his profile, I’ll just swipe left.

You can imagine my surprise when I stumbled across Matt.

IMG_2784

I will tell you right now, that I have mastered the art of looking shorter in photos when standing next to my male counterparts because I love a good pair of tall heels. On a very serious note, all kitten heels should be burned along with pickles. Both are the spawn of the devil. But back to Matt, who I absolutely swiped right on.

A couple of days later we matched and we started talking. We got on, he had a bit of banter and he told me how he had jumped back between the UK and NZ.

He asked me if I would want to meet for a drink and I agreed. Though the evening we had agreed to meet, I had a rather busy evening ahead, your girl had triple booked herself. I had said that I would pick my best friend up from work and fought traffic for an hour to get him because no one should catch the bus on their birthday. I said that I would have drinks with Matt and just to keep it interesting I said that I would also have drinks with another Matt later in the evening.

How to date in 2018, just do it all in one evening. Like a tasting course but with shit company and lots of gin.

On my way, Matt and I were chatting about the fact that he might be finishing work late and that our drinks at 6pm might have to be postponed. Bear in mind that we had already called a rain check on drinks twice before due to other commitments.

I was about to merge onto the motorway when the guy threw me a curveball. I said that I could be potentially late because of the traffic situation and that I had an event to go to that evening (by an event I really mean, another Tinder date). Word for word, this what he said:

“I’ve got good news and bad news babe.

Good news is I can come meet up!

Bad news is I probably don’t have time for a full sit down drink 😦 

Shall I bring some beer or a wine over to yours?”

To which I responded 

“Oh I’m fine for just A drink at Mr Toms, I have a dinner party to go to at 7.30”.

I thought it was weird that he didn’t have time to meet me in a bar for a drink but was willing to bring around more than one drink to my house, to meet me. Crawling through traffic I texted him back and said we can cancel if need be as I can’t miss my event/ dinner party and that I wasn’t getting off the motorway.

So fast forward, I’ve picked my best friend up and we are heading back to the city with good time and I am applying a face of makeup as Matt texts me to tell me he was just about here.

He gets 5 brownie points because be offered to pick me up but minus 8 points for being super early.

Matt sitting at -3 brownie points even before the date.

Face applied, outfit checked and the man kept waiting, I headed out the door.

Now he wasn’t lying when he said he was tall. I hugged the dude and I totally had to go for the underarm snuggle because I would have to climb him like a tree to even attempt an over the shoulder hug.

We jumped in his car which he seemed to cram himself into like a clown into a mini and drove just down the road to a bar.

He opened the door for me (+ 2 points) and told me to grab a table before asking me what I would like to drink and headed towards the bar (+2 points).

Sitting at a high table I suddenly heard my name. Which for someone with a very uncommon name I thought I had heard Sarah. However, it was, in fact, someone asking for me.

To my disbelieve and utter amusement on waiting for my gin and tonic to arrive, standing before me was the father of the girls I nanny for.

Auckland may have 1.5 million people but this was proof that it was a small city. Awkwardly explaining to him that I was on a date and that my date was now coming back to the table I think had to do bloody introductions.

Just imagine introducing your date to your boss and not skulling your drink. If I could have melted into the floor, I would of.

Sensing my uncomfortableness my boss excused himself to the bathroom and Matt and I got chatting.

This is what I know about Matt:

  1. he was born here
  2. split his childhood between the UK and NZ
  3. went to The University of Canterbury
  4. works as a digital analyst
  5. he is a wet blanket

I switched off after 20 minutes and I was trying to figure out how many times I could stir my gin and tonic before the lime flew out.

Matt then said he was going to pop to the bathroom and when he got back he wanted to know all about me. As he left the table he asked the bartender for another round. This is the one and only time I have almost turned down gin.

He gets back and starts to ask all the normal questions; do you have any siblings, can you explain your thesis to me, what do you want to do with your degree, blah, blah blah.

People and hospitality talk about a fake laugh or smile they put on. I believe I have found my fake amusement for Tinder.

I can’t remember what we were talking about but I distinctly remember Matt telling a story about himself and saying:

“my mate was like to me, ‘Greg don’t be such a dickhead'”

Greg.

Greg?

Who the fuck is Greg?

He was meant to be telling a story about himself or did I miss something.

Ive had two gins and I am not sleep deprived. I swear I just heard him say, Greg.

Either way, now I’m frowning like a child who has just been told no by their mum in the supermarket and my tinder date is finally getting the signal that its time to go.

I excused myself to the bathroom, fire off a message to the best friends about what just happened and that we were leaving the bar.

He drops me back at my friend’s apartment, tells me he had a lovely time and to have a nice evening.

Dude was nice don’t get me wrong, but nice guys finish last.

Then I was back out the door again to the next tinder date.

I can tell you right now, that was a far better improvement than what I had just experienced.

Oh and if no one has figured out yet, women who date are fucking savages.

Cue the weekend.

Matt texts me, multiple times. I just don’t reply.

My gut is telling me not to text him back.

So after my last experience, I don’t.

Cue June and I am back swiping through tinder at 3am when this came up.

IMG_3157

That looks like Matt.

With the same bio, the same age but different photos.

I wasn’t tripping balls.

I, Seren Powell-Jones got catfished.

Now you might be asking how did you not notice when you met him? Did he not look like the photos?

I couldn’t see his face when its in the outer stratosphere.

I can tell you he drives a white Rave Four like car and that he listens to rock. But the details of his face are as clear to me as Auckland harbour after it’s been raining.

So I took a screenshot, sent it to my best friends and then I super liked him.

Sadly it wasn’t an instant match and I hate drunk Seren who cleared out her Tinder.

To conclude, this is where I call on the power of the internet.

I’ve tried to reverse google him to no avail.

So, does anyone know who Matt, Greg or Jeremy is?

Or if they know anyone matching the description of the man I described?

Tinder Stories – I literally ran away from him as he lay there naked

So the following is a real story.

Sorry in advance mum and dad.

It was a late evening and I was at home.

My phone went off.

I had a Tinder notification.

Let’s call him Max.

Max and I had been talking for a few days, he moved to Auckland a few months ago. Left a longterm relationship, back in his hometown which turns out to be on the other side of the world.

We moved off tinder to KIC. Which for those of you who don’t know, is an app that works exactly like Messenger but you don’t have to give over your name.

Now you might be thinking, “Seren, why would you do that?”. Because Max was not relationship material. Not to me.

Standing at over 6 foot (at least that is what his bio said) and having an accent his downfall was that he the brains of a slow lorris.

Now before you get your judgement pants on and take the road of thinking you are better than me. I will remind you that everyone has a moment when their needs outweigh their rationale (and by rational I mean their sex drive is far more powerful than their standards)

The conversation had veered away from the usual “so what did you do today?” to the “what are you doing tonight ;)”

Then he gave me his address.

On a nice side note and safety tip, if you are going around to essentially a strangers house here are my tips.

  1. give that address to two different people.
  2. go to their house (you can always leave, just not from your own place)
  3. park your car 2 mins away from the location.
  4. wear flat shoes.
  5. know where the exits are and what the locks look like.
  6. don’t actually let your guard down.
  7. keep your phone on loud.

The internet gave me these and I am thankful for the internet as this story will back these hot tips up.

So I sent this address to my best friends and thought I’ll just get a little dressed up. Not for him but for me, dude was lucky I was even coming over. As I was applying some mascara my phone went off quite a few time.

It was, of course, Max because all the other men in my life were sleeping. Turns our boys need far more sleep than girls. But not our mate Max.

He was asking me how long I was going to be.

I had looked his address up, he was a 6-minute drive. So I told him 40 minutes. Because this isn’t Uber Eats.

He told me that it was too long. I told him either wait 40 minutes or wait for forever.

Then he asked me how I was getting to his.

I said on a magic carpet.

Time ticked passed, I grabbed my keys, phone and wallet and headed out the door at 11.45pm at night.

And at 11.51pm I was about 1.5km from his house and I told him I was just finding a park. For the 6 minute drive, I had been ignoring his messages about if I was actually coming.

I parked and the first warning sign came on. QUITE LITERALLY.

My engine light came on in my car. I thought to myself, welp you are already here, it is better the car goes completely cold before you drive it again and in the morning just sort it out. So I jumped out of my car and started to walk toward Max.

When I arrived, he meets me outside and gave me a quick hug before ushering me through the front door.

It was a simple lock and I duly noted that.

He showed me through to his room. Which was a mess.

I had given the dude 40 minutes and the only thing he had done in that time was piss me off and make his bed.

Don’t worry though, I asked him why he hadn’t cleaned his room.

“Oh I have just moved to Auckland and I have been really busy at work.”

Mate, you moved here months ago and then there were 40 minutes I had graced you with.

He asked me if I wanted a drink, I said a water because I was driving home tonight. Establishing that you aren’t hanging around after this is all over is great.

We started talking and Max was funny as it turns out. Nervous as hell but funny. I felt like he had Parkinson’s when he tucked the bit of hair out of my face.

So as you can imagine one thing was leading to another when I was sitting on top of him with no shirt on and my phone started to get a call.

I grabbed my phone and it was someone important.

This was warning sign number two.

But yes, you are damn right in thinking I answered it, in my bra, jeans unbuttoned and on top of a boy.

Now before you start thinking “poor Max”, the dude was loving it. As I established why I was being called late at night, Max was all over me like a rash.

At one point I shoved his head down into the pillow, glared at him and kept my hand on his forehead whilst I tried to finish the conversation.

It is just as funny as you can picture.

I did apologize but I can assure you Max was incredibly unbothered. With a half naked girl on top of you its hard to get angry.

So we picked up where we left off. Phone call over. Hand off his forehead.

And then I asked that beautiful question.

“Do you have a condom?”

And mate, you could drop a pin and hear it on his carpeted floor it went that quiet.

“Oh, um, no.”

To which I replied, “you are fucking with me right?”

“I will message my flatmate to see if he has any.”

Now, this was warning sign number three. The universe was trying to tell me to run. And I needed a game plan to get the fuck outta there.

“Can I use your bathroom whilst we wait on a reply?”

So I jumped out of bed, got FULLY dressed, socks and all. Smiled and went to the bathroom.

And I started thinking, quickly. I flushed the toilet I didn’t use, washed my hands because it needed to be a believable performance on my part and walked back into his room.

“I think I have a condom in my car, I left a bag from town in the back seat and that should have one.”

The light in his eyes was blinding. He sat up.

“Really?”

“Yep, I will just have to go and grab it.”

Saying that I pick up my wallet, keys and grab my phone.

Turned on my heels and gapped it for the front door whilst sliding on my flat shoes at speed.

Simple lock. Got it.

I literally ran away from him as he lay there naked.

But then I heard running and shuffling.

Looking back down the hallway he is pulling on pants saying how he will come with me.

I am holding the door open right now with a half-naked man looking at me like a dog about to go on a walk.

“I parked a while away.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you could be a psychopath.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I know but the car is a bit of a walk away so if you want to come you will need shoes and a shirt.”

“Why did you park so far away?”

“Because I did.”

“You aren’t ditching me are you?”

“No, no, I will get my jog on to the car and park closer when I come back, I’ll be like 5 minutes I reckon, just leave the front door unlocked and I will meet you in bed.”

“Okay, see you soon, be careful!”

I smiled and headed out the door, where I got my jog on, carefully of course.

Jumped in my car, I deleted KIC, unmatched him from tinder and deleted the app from my phone and told my best friends that I had a good story for them in the AM.

Unsure if Max’s front door is still unlocked or if he is still waiting for me but he does like to try to add me on Instagram every now and then. After his third attempt to DM me I decided to block him.

Moral of this story is: don’t be like Max, clean your room, have protection and don’t ask dumb questions.

Flatmates from Hell Version 2 – PT 2 They are all older than me.

Picking up from where we left off in part 1, we were in Anna’s room with the electrician. He went straight to the heater and I looked straight at the bag of weed sitting on the mantle place. A clear bag, with bud just sitting there. In the middle of the mantle place. Now the electrition was down looking at the heater but my mind was absolutely spinning. Not only was I dealing with an electrician right now but that thing called a flat inspection had happened just two hours earlier. My brain was racing through the conversation I had with the property inspector and I was trying to remember if anything seemed off. SHE SURE AS HELL SEEN THE WEED. Literally, would have to be blind to miss it.

Side note; I have no problems with people smoking weed. I don’t have a problem that you keep your weed in your room, where else might you keep it?  I do have a problem when you leave an illegal substance out on display for the property inspector to see.

Back to the main story. Now once everyone had left Carrie came home and asked me where her poster was of Will and Kate. I told her I ripped it down and she asked why I said I was angry and then asked her if she had completely forgotten about the fact we had a flat inspection today? She blinked and then said this:

“Yes, I did forget, but it’s not like the house was in that bad of a state.”

So then I had a very stern discussion on that fact that the house was a mess, that I had to cancel my meetings to pick up after her, take the rubbish out and then dropped the bomb that I went into Anna’s room with the electrician after the property inspector had come through only to see a bag of weed sitting on the mantle place.

“I’m sorry that you had to cancel your meetings because the house wasn’t clean enough for you and having weed out is kinda bad but you are not going to lose the lease because of it. It gives you no right to rip down my poster which was a gift from my friend.”

These were the words coming out a 27-year-old people. I apologized for ripping down her poster but then also said how angry would you be if it wasn’t your mess and you have to clean it up despite reminding your flatmates 2 days before the flat inspection and they still don’t clean up after themselves?

She then told me that because she pays rent she should be able to smoke in her room.

Where I seriously questioned if she was being serious or if she was taking the piss. She was being serious. In fact very serious. We then had a conversation where I explained that under no circumstances is anyone allowed to smoke inside. The only person who can is the homeowner. I am explaining to a 27-year old that she cannot smoke inside. I mean how did I end up in this situation?!

So just to make everything very clear because she still wouldn’t accept the fact that she was not allowed to smoke inside I left a message on our group chat.

The image at the top is the screenshot of the conversation.

I thought that would make everything clear.

But no. This would come full circle. But that tale is further down the line.

You might ask yourself what about the other two flatmates Anna and Paul? Well, Anna and her weed kept things relatively quiet for a week or so but Paul couldn’t help himself.

 

Find out the story with Paul in the next part.