My First Dating Horror Story; The Crazy American, Part 1

Time to continue where I left off; and this one's a good 'un. Just what you need for a cold and rubbish wednesday (halfway through the week, hurrah!), this is perhaps my best worst dating story so far. I'm doing everything in chronological order, and it's just as well to get this out of the way early.

Sometimes I can't actually believe this happened to me. But it did. I'm sure it'll end up as one of those London dating myth stories but it's completely true, and I die a little every time I tell it. But tell it I must.

The 'Crazy' American, Part 1.

So, we established that MSF hadn't worked very well, and my early attempt at Tastebuds wasn't brilliant when I asked the wrong guy for his number....

I hadn't given up on Tastebuds though, so I carried on searching, favouriting and messaging. Sure enough, I was chatting to an American guy, we'll call him Cameron Huntingdon* (His actual name was even more ridiculous, if you can believe it. Quite cool but also.... ridiculous.) Now, we'd only messaged a couple of times and suddenly he was asking me out! Well done, I thought. Quick off the mark. I assume Americans are much more forthcoming and confident about dating - dating is quite an american concept, I'll admit. He was a student, and 2 years younger than me, but he looked cute, kind of emo, short dark blonde hair, skinny, so I thought, lets give it a go. It's only a few years difference. So we arranged to meet one monday, near King's Cross, at 7 by a Mexican restaurant. So far, so good, I was quite excited on going on my actual first online date.

It got to about 6.55pm, and I called him because I couldn't find the place - it's one of those where there's little hidden streets behind streets; basically I just couldn't see it. He didn't pick up, but sent me a text shortly after saying "On my way, didn't realise the clocks had gone forward, sorry phone battery about to die."

Um. Two things here: first, the glaringly obvious one: You didn't know the clocks had gone forward?! This was the day after they had gone forward for British Summer Time, so a good 36 hours after: have you not watched the news? Listened to the radio in that space of time? Secondly: Your phone is about to die? Really? After we'd planned this date, surely you would remember to charge your phone. I know you're a student but come on... really?

I text him back saying Ok, but I can't actually find the place? He replied saying it was behind so-and-so, and eventually I found it. I was standing there for a while, until someone approached me... I didn't realise it was him at first because he looked so different! His hair was much longer, and it looked like he'd dyed it (badly) black. Plus he looked quite gaunt.. I like 'em skinny but he was almost that I could probably snap him. Not great.

So we said hello (got approached by a crying lady selling Big Issue, we gave her money, awkwaaaard) and I said "Soo... shall we go inside?" pointing at said Mexican restaurant.
"Oh.. yeah, I went out on friday night... feeling quite hungover so don't really feel like a drink..."
(I'm thing, well I DO. I'd quite like a glass of red actually!) "Oh ok, well... how about a coffee or something?" STILL thinking we would go inside lovely, welcoming Mexican restaurant for coffee and dinner then.
"Yeah cool, there's a Starbucks just round the corner." He said.

Starbucks. Brilliant. I get all nicely dressed up, with LIPSTICK and everything, and you propose to take me to Starbucks. Starbucks is where I go when I'm out shopping, or in the morning if I feel like it before work. Not on an evening date, surely? I'd let you get away with it if we were meeting at lunchtime during the week, definitely. But even on a Saturday lunchtime I'd be disappointed with Starbucks; take me to an independent cosy coffee shop anyday. But on a weekday evening? A pub, surely, at the very least. PLUS it wouldn't be so bad if I thought it was Starbucks all along. I wouldn't have bothered with mascara on my lower lashes, perhaps I would have stretched to only a light lipgloss. But I thought we were going to a restaurant! A fun, upbeat, Mexican restaurant!

"Ok, yeah sure." I said.

So in we walked to Starbucks. He seemed reluctant to walk to the counter... but perhaps he was doing an awkward, stuttering version of 'ladies first.' Perhaps. I ordered a skinny cap, of course, he got some kind of crazy soy latte concoction. He offered to pay for said coffees, "Why, thank you," I said, thinking, damn right, I wanted wine you weird, 4 day hangover-having person. He got out his wallet. He had all of £3. "Oh it's ok, I'll get these, no worries" I said. Thinking: a) you shouldn't have given your money to the sad homeless lady b) actually you should, and you should have enough to spare for a drink let alone a coffee! and c) this is the worst date ever.

I don't expect the guys to pay for the whole evening; on the contrary, I get a bit embarrassed. However, first drink, yes, I would quite like that to be bought for me, just to show your monetary prowess and impress me a little. No I don't live in the 19th Century. Yes, I wish I did.

Was I expecting to end up in a Starbucks next to Kings Cross, buying this lowlife waster student with terrible hair a soy-fucking-latte on a monday night? No.

So what happened next? I shall tell you. Subscribe or follow me on twitter and I'll reveal all in due course...

Update: Read the horror of Part 2 here.