Probably the creepiest date I’ve been on
Some men are so out of touch with reality
I think I speak for all women when I say men can be f*cking creepy to the point we want to tape our vaginas shut.
Picture this. It’s the end of 2011, I’m 19 and looking for some rebound action after the end of my first serious relationship. Tinder doesn’t exist yet (and actually smartphones are barely even a thing). I turn to the good ol’ plentyoffish.com (otherwise known as POF) to see if I can hook me a catch.
Started talking to this dark-haired dude who seemed reasonably fun to chat to, looked quite attractive from his photos and lived within an acceptable dating distance. I think we had one video call but his microphone didn’t work so I couldn’t really gauge what he was like conversationally apart from his facial expressions in reaction to messages. He told me I looked like Kirsten Dunst (at the time I had dyed auburn hair) which I was rather flattered by. All seemed well.
It was through the real-life meeting that I learned a hard lesson in online dating — that you never truly know what anyone is like until you meet them in person.
We met on a weekend and went to one of my favourite pubs. Don’t get me wrong, he seemed nice initially — but our energies conflicted. It felt a bit like what would happen if Monica Geller was set up with a young Norman Bates.
Okay, Norman Bates is a little harsh— I didn’t feel like I was about to get knifed to death and then stuffed and put on display in his bedroom. But he was definitely socially awkward in a way that wasn’t endearing or cute — I’m talking Dwight Schrute from the first few Office seasons kinda vibes. He rarely blinked, and seemed content with just sitting and looking at me during awkward silences, which I wasn’t. I also usually prefer to date people who are as talkative as I am.
After 50 minutes or so, I decided we weren’t clicking (rather ‘ick’ing) and I planned to leave within the next ten minutes.
That’s when it turned up a notch from Dwight Schrute to total Joe Goldberg territory.
We’d briefly discussed our dating history (it sounded like he’d only ever kissed someone at a party) and I think he took the topic as a cue to try and be flirty even though I wasn’t giving any indication that I was interested sexually. What happened next was not flirting, but just plain WTF.
I told him I needed to visit the ladies’ room, and his response:
“Oh… want me to join you?”
with a smirk and a glint in his eye that made me want to permanently knot my ovary tubes right there and then.
Even if I had expressed an interest — which I hadn’t — that’s definitely not how you should reciprocate that interest. Is your idea of romance watching someone piss and/or shit? (I know he was actually hinting at doing something sexual in the toilets and not scat porn. But even so — gross).
I laughed awkwardly, went to the loo — dying inside the whole time — and when I re-emerged, I told him it was time for me to leave. Luckily, he didn’t protest. When we reached my city market square and we were about to go our separate ways, I told him the truth — that I didn’t want to meet again and I didn’t feel a connection.
His face dropped as if he was expecting me to say “Oh yeah, I had an amazing time, that line about you joining me in the toilets made me wanna get down on one knee there and then!”
Then he just looked into the distance and muttered the following in the way a petulant, spoilt child would react:
“Not good, not good at all… no, that’s really bad…”
I didn’t know what else to say. So I just apologised, walked away and got my bus.
I haven’t spoken to him since, and I have no idea what he’s doing now — but I hope he learned from our experience that suggesting joining a woman on her toilet trip is not the way to her heart. The way to her bowels, maybe.
But either way, it’s incredibly pervy and inappropriate. Also, throwing your toys out of the pram when your date says she doesn’t want to meet again is not only entitled but is about as attractive as Donald Trump’s sweaty hairline.
Just don’t do it, guys.
