The last few months have been pretty hectic for me – hence the regrettable lack of column inches. I’ve changed jobs, had new housemates move in, had wisdom teeth grow, been to New York and Washington DC. But now things are finally getting calmer and starting to settle down, and it feels like time for me to settle down as well.
In all my trials and tribulations one constant has remained: Grindr. The addictive app has helped me track down boys all over the UK and even while I was in the US (in particular a beautiful hunk called Diego, but that’s another story).
I’ve been trying my best to get back on the dating scene and have been getting out and about, attempting to meet people. I got chatting to a guy online a few weeks back. We arranged to go for a drink at Ku Bar on a Saturday night. Seems normal, right? Wrong.
I haven’t been on a blind Grindr ‘date’ for some time – and by ‘date’, I mean someone to whom I’ve had to say more than ‘by the way my name was Dan, have you got a good taxi number?’ I arrived looking my best, with a get-out clause of a mate’s birthday celebration at another bar later on. If the date went well I’d bring him. If not, I could make a polite excuse and go to the party.
As I arrived I spotted him straight away at a table near the back reading a book. Alarm bells rang: I’m not against reading, but on a Saturday night in a gay bar the sight was unusual. I approached and said hi, and as he said hello in return I noticed he had a cute accent. His name was Andreas. He was olive skinned, with dark hair and broad shoulders. My faith in Grindr had been restored.
I drummed up a conversation and enquired as to where in Spain he was from. He looked at me like I was a complete idiot and informed me he was German. Fail number one.
I awkwardly changed the subject and asked what he did for a living. In his gruff German accent he informed me he worked in finance, but didn’t like talking about work. I quickly needed a new topic of conversation and asked about the book he was ready. He held up the book, A Guide to Project Management. I jokingly asked if that was the sequel to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. The joke flopped. Fail number two. This date was already becoming highly cringeworthy.
After fifteen minutes of silence and a lot of staring about the room and watching the television screens I necked my pint and asked if he wanted another. I ran to the bar and ordered our drinks and as luck would have it there was a minimum £10 spend. I bought two tequila shots and two pints. A moment of inspiration hit me and I did both the tequilas: I needed all the help I could get.
I slightly stumbled back to our table to find him chatting with a rough-looking guy on the table next to us. I interrupted and tried to get the conversation to music and festivals. I told him about my job in PR and all the festivals I’d been to and artists I’d met. He told me he didn’t have an iPod, didn’t like gigs or festivals, and that the last album he bought was Kylie’s Fever in 2001. Fail number three.
Another fifteen minutes of silence passed until I thought enough was enough. As I was about to make my excuse to leave he stood up and got in there first! He had a housewarming to get to. I smiled sympathetically whilst cheering like the Glee cast on ecstasy inside. We went outside, and our separate ways.
The date lasted forty minutes, the majority of which was spent in silence. This dating game is hard. And quiet.
But rumour has it a boy I’ve had my eye on for a while has recently become single. Fingers crossed…
About the Author
Subscribe with iTunes
