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My Mission Continues... Dating in your Late Twenties Part 2

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If you haven't seen the first part of my blog, you can read it here 

Another day.... another pie to the face!

You have now swiped through every ‘eligible’ bachelor in a 20-mile radius of your home, your Tinder has no one left to swipe, you are now in quite a conundrum. Your second lightbulb moment.... ‘I’ll arrange a girls’ night out’. You turn to your group message ‘Hi girls, planning a night out, are you free on the 5th of September?’

Responses from the eight people in the group chat are usually along the lines of ‘I’m at a wedding’, ‘I can’t, it’s date night that night’ or ‘I’m not available until 6 weeks on Saturday’ so you’re left with the one friend who pitifully agrees to join you (most likely the friend who set you up on the previous blind date, who is fed up of your third wheeling and determined to find you a man, she doesn’t care if he is 62 and has two heads but SHE WILL FIND YOU A MAN!).

You go on your night out - it’s 9pm and you’re on your 8th Tequila shot, but you realise the ‘find a man mission’ that your friend set out for you has turned into you dancing on the dancefloor all night and making friends with random girls in the toilets (‘babe you look amazing – here, borrow the contents of my makeup bag – follow me on insta – he’s too good for your darling don’t cry – come on, let’s go get a shot’) because this is how every night out turns out these days. 

The next day, after getting home at 4am with a bleak memory of any of the night, you wake up... you’re not quite sure if you have been hit by a rapidly moving bus or if it was the 8 Tequila shots and 6 Jaeger bombs you consumed in a 30-minute timeframe last night, but right now you are unable to move, are you going to vomit or do you need some grease to soak up the alcohol? You lie moaning in your empty house hoping that someone will bring you a bucket of ice water to quench your thirst and a McDonald’s breakfast. You message every person in your phone asking them to come to your rescue until reality hits and you realise you’re going to have to get out of your pit and get your own. You sit up and then it hits you.... you run to the bathroom and stick your head down the toilet, brush your teeth and head to the fridge for the greasiest item of food you can find…open fridge to find a yoghurt... (it’s a day past its use by date) profusely swearing at the fridge and questioning yourself as to why you never buy any food and why you never know when to stop drinking; you pull a face at the lack of planning for your hangover and grab the yoghurt as that will have to do.

You crawl back up the stairs and back into bed and sleep for the rest of the day only to wake up at bedtime and be hit with a hard battle of insomnia as you’ve slept for 80% of the day. The next day you’re sat at your desk with tired eyes because you’ve had a total of 2 hours sleep due to your hangover and your phone pings from an unknown number ‘Hey how was your hangover yesterday?’ your response (in an attempt to not sound rude and ignorant) is ‘hey, sorry who is this I’ve deleted all my contacts’.... ‘it’s Jason from Saturday night!’. You pause looking at your phone trying to recollect in between the memory of you doing some questionable dancing and 18 shots if you can remember who Jason is… erm nope, no idea. So you message your friend, ‘Who the heck is Jason?’ and still having no record of who this person is you respond ‘Oh sorry, yes of course it’s you! Head was sore yesterday haha.'

Praying to yourself he is hot and a nice guy, you continue the small talk for three days and he has now added you on all social media, you are 5 years deep into his photos, accidentally like 3 Instagram posts from 33 weeks ago and you already know what his grandma’s gold fish is called. But he hasn’t lost interest quite yet.... he’s even asked you on a date, this needs to happen soon because you can’t quite take much more of the small talk.

You eventually arrange a day and time for your date; a nice restaurant for some food. He picks you up and you head to the Italian (normally you’d fill your face with as much cheesy garlic bread and pasta as possible but it’s a first date so you have to act like you’re not some sort of starving baby elephant), the waiter comes to take your order... ‘I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs please’... after the waiter walks away ‘just-a like-a momma used to make’ - your date looks at you slightly puzzled as to your impression of the Dolmio man... you sit there realising it’s just too early for this kind of talk and your face heats up with embarrassment but you ignore your now rosy cheeks and continue a semi normal boring conversation. You finish your food (managed to not spill any down your front for once.... RESULT!), now comes the awkward moment as to the bill, you’re obviously going to offer to pay for yourself (you’re an independent female after all!) but you make the mistake of offering to pay for his too... the date jumps on the idea of a free meal and you end up paying for both.... sometimes you really annoy yourself! Anyway... you get over the fact you’ve just spent £70 on a bowl of spaghetti meatballs (your date ordered fillet steak and also had a starter and a dessert... fuming on the inside) but you get over that after all this could be the man of your dreams. You head back to the car and as you’re pulling up to your house, you start to panic again, only this time it’s because you’re not sure whether to go in for the fateful smooch or not. As he pulls up outside your house you say bye and give him an awkward half hug (if there was ever a face palm moment this would be it) you got that worked up about the goodbye ‘smooch’ (which didn’t even happen) you forget to undo your seat belt and it tugs you back into the seat as you try to escape, he laughs, you undo it and run for the door. Kind of cute he waited till I got inside before he drove off and waved.

Now for the over-thinking, did it go well? I think it went well. Did he like me? I think he liked me. The questions go round and round for about 30 minutes you wait for a text to say thanks.... nothing, you think to yourself ‘arr it’s fine he only left 30 minutes ago he will text tomorrow’.... nothing. A week goes by still no texts, you’ve now text him 3 times and not had a response.... you tell your friends ‘I’m done – he hasn’t not text back’ then – ping! MESSAGE! Oh no wait, it’s just your Mum.

 MISSION ABORTED – AGAIN! This time you download ‘Bumble’ to see if the class of man is any different to Tinder.... turns out the same men who you’ve been swiping left on from Tinder are also the same men you are now swiping left on for Bumble too. You tell your friends you are giving up, you’ve been fine on your own for the last year what difference is another one going to make.... pass me the bottle of wine!
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