I've had a few experiences of dating hell, and I understand that the dating pool can be kind of murky, but damn, I never realised that it was full of fucking sharks.
Despite all that, I decided I was still ready to risk dipping my toe in the shallow end of the dating pool with someone I had some chemistry with.
Well, at least I thought so.
I had connected with someone online.
He seemed okay. We had been chatting for a while but hadn't met face to face.
It was a gigantic step for me because it would be the first time I had dated anyone since my divorce. Enough time had passed for me. I was ready to experience the next phase in my life, and I intended to enjoy it as much as possible.
I wasn’t looking for anything serious. In fact, I wasn't looking for anything, period. After being off the market for so long, I just wanted to know what it would be like to go on a nice, carefree date.
With no strings.
I knew what he looked like because we’d swapped pics and I’d spoken to him on the phone for hours and hours at a time, so it was like we already had a connection.
As I got ready, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. We were meeting up for a late lunch and had decided that we would meet at the restaurant, which wasn’t too far from where I lived. Not wanting to appear over, or under dressed, I decided on jeans, a nice top, a smart jacket and flat shoes. I winked at my reflection in the mirror.
Not bad at all.
I felt confident as I made my way to the restaurant. However, just as I reached the restaurant, I received a text.
It was from him.
“Sorry babe, I’ll be a little late. I’m stuck in traffic”
I texted him back that it was cool and that I was already at the restaurant.
I sighed, pulled my bag up on my shoulder and decided to wait outside because I didn't want to go in and sit there by myself. I mean, not that there was anything wrong with sitting in a restaurant by myself if I wanted to but I had enough butterflies in my stomach as it was and walking into a restaurant by alone with everyone staring would probably make me break out into a full-blown panic attack.
I glanced at my watch.
Fifteen minutes past and he still hadn’t arrived, so I sent a text asking where he was.
Ten minutes later he responded with “I’m round the corner, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes”
Okay, fifteen minutes didn’t seem like a long time.
So I waited.
Fifteen minutes passed, and he still hadn’t shown up.
This time, I called him rather than have him fob me off with some text.
No answer.
Now I was really getting pissed off. How fucking rude! I had spent time getting ready, making sure I looked good, getting to the restaurant on time, and this prick couldn't even be arsed to pick up his fucking phone.
Another fifteen minutes went by and he still hadn't shown up.
I was fuming, and I’d had enough. I stared at my watch, my expression stony.
By this time, I had been waiting for my date to show up for almost an hour.
What the fuck? Like I didn’t have better things to do.
I didn’t even bother to send him a text to say I was leaving. I was walking towards the station when I heard someone calling out my name……