As a fairly experienced participant of Tinder, I was getting quite tired of typing out my entire life story to everyone I matched with, so I decided to up the ante and ask them to coffee/drinks/Netflix & Chill a bit sooner.
I employ a yes-to-all tactic when swiping, and then just go from there with my matches. Along came Rachel, she was cute, short and the banter was there. To be perfectly honest, if a girl has nice eyes I’m sold. We chatted for a few days and locked in a plan to meet for a coffee date that Sunday afternoon.
What I didn’t plan for was the paralytic state I found myself to be in on the Saturday night prior to the date which involved losing my phone on the way home, falling head first down some stairs and knocking over everything within my sloppy reach. I was next level wasted.
I woke the next day with about half an hour before the date was meant to start, knowing Rachel would have tried to contact me on my phone which had been found on the street by a lovely gay man and had been returned to my friend. The same friend who had been stressing about my whereabouts all night and was picturing me robbed, bashed and unconscious in hospital.
Now, not to talk myself up or anything but I can find just about anyone on Facebook. My stalking skills are next level so, I quickly found Rachel and messaged her to let her know that I’d lost my phone and that I would meet her a bit later than originally planned. Although she was rather surprised to hear from me over FB, she agreed to a later time and I made my way over stopping past my mate’s to get my phone along the way.
The date began like any other, the mild awkwardness made substantially worse by my hangover and growing lump on my head. In an attempt to make out that I was far less hungover than I actually was, I ordered coffee after coffee on the date which I’m sure she thought was a bit odd. We got on really well, so well in fact that we decided to grab pizza and drinks to continue the date.
As we talked and laughed she shared with me a few crazy dating stories – the most shocking one being that her last relationship had ended when she finally agreed after much persuasion to have a threesome with her boyfriend of 2 years and his female co-worker. She was swiftly dumped the next day for the co-worker and now this woman is having his baby. Nothing like a bit of Jerry Springer to relax the mood.
We eventually called it a night, and when we said our goodbyes I went in for the cheek, she went for the lips… Tad awks but such is dating.
As our schedules were quite mismatched, with me working a night shift job and her working during the day, we would only ever be able to catch up on weekends. The following weekend I was going away for a bucks in Melbourne and we wouldn’t be able to see each other for a full 2 weeks so, going against all dating codes, we caught up the very next day. It was only for about an hour or so in-between her day job finishing and my night shift starting but it was 34 degrees, so she came over for a dip in my pool. We had our first pash in the the water and all was well.
We kept in contact all week and over the weekend I flew to Melbourne for the bucks which turned out to be a 3-day bender of course. I returned on the Sunday evening feeling like absolute death but having had an awesome time. Rachel knew I’d be back and was dropping not-so-subtle hints for an invitation to come over. It was 9pm at night and I thought against letting her see me in the state I was in but I eventually crumbled because I was coming down and needed to be embraced.
She arrived and we begun a Netflix & Chill situation as my hangover got progressively worse. She had already asked me over text before coming over if I had hooked up with anyone in Melbourne to which I replied,
“No, we were on a bucks and I spent 99% of my time there in a strip club”.
She brought it up again whilst we were on the couch and I started to get a bit funny about the line of questioning. This Netflix & Chill session had no chill but I let it go.
We ended up where most Netflix & Chill sessions end up – the bedroom – but at this point I was violently hungover and struggling for dear life. We started to bang whilst my body shook with the effort of having to hold up my corpse over her. In my fragile state I lasted all of a minute before collapsing. We laughed about it and she went home, you would think fairly unsatisfied.
The next day after the usual “Morning xoxo” carry on, I copped yet another question about if I’d hooked up with anyone on the bucks. We had only been seeing each for a week it was way too early in the game to be dealing with this kind of shit. Ask me once? OK. Twice? Fine. But three times is a bit much. I decided not to just leave it this time and told her not to put her insecurities on me.
From then on she spiraled out of control and sent page upon page of writing, saying things like, “We need to start fresh” (meanwhile we’d met twice), that we could be throwing away something that could have been great, that I’d had her fooled and that I broke her heart. Crazy level: expert.
She had left her lipstick at my place and wanted it back, and I’m not a jerk so I was happy to give that back to her. She continued with the pages of texts, where I initially tried to let her down easy, but then quickly discovered that wasn’t making anything better so I just stopped replying.
I let her know that I’d put her lipstick in the mailbox which brought forth more messages such as:
“Do you hate me so much that you can’t bear to see me?”
Once she was at my house she called and left voice mails saying that she would wait outside in the rain until I came out, and another message saying she missed my company. Thankfully I was nowhere NEAR my house at the time, I was at the football miles away.
A week passed by and the messages finally stopped but not before the grand finale message stating that even after all that had happened between us, she would give me another chance and at any time I could message her and she would take me back.
That one minute of sex with me must have blown her mind!
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