Hi everyone. Recently I’ve been in and out of this blog like a fly that’s trapped in your car; finds its way out and then comes right back through the window.
I thought I’d come back with another dating horror story, to add to the series of Finding Mr Right. Well not horror story that’s awful to say, but let’s just say Disco Dave is not going to be meeting my mum, not now and not ever.
I swiped Dave on tinder, a lad that looked like he was up for a laugh and a drink and honestly I thought fuck it, let’s meet. I don’t know what possessed me but I decided to agree to meet Dave at 10pm in a Manchester nightclub, clever idea Dave you silly twat.
It was 7pm and I started my routine; bath, fake tan, make up, hair and then a shit load of drinks. Alone. In my house. If that isn’t a way to start a night I’m not sure what is.
We met up, and tried to find the quietest place in a club on a Saturday night and started chatting. Dave was funny, good looking, and loved a drink I could get used to this.
He was telling me all about his family; lives with his dad. Why does every fucking guy I ever communicate with still live at home?
He supports City. My family are massive United fans.
And loves a steak. I’m vegetarian.
Honestly, I wanted Disco Dave to stop talking, before he started telling me his interests I was loving him and now I just wasn’t so keen.
I was there though, my make-up and hair all done so fuck it just suck it up Lizi and just enjoy. I drank a shit ton, I don’t know if I thought I was on a bar crawl in Magaluf but I was keeping up with Disco Dave and felt like I was seconds away from either throwing up or going to start crying into this glass of rose.
I headed to the toilets, and made friends with a few girls in there I did think about ditching Dave because they seemed super lovely and I’d have probably had a better time with these random girls than Steak loving Dave. However, I didn’t, I stayed and fulfilled the rest of the night.
Other than his shit personality and our different interests, Dave could dance well, and he was good to look at so I did actually enjoy my time.
At the end of the night, around 3am we decided to eat a take away. That is how I knew nothing was ever going to progress with Disco Dave, who on a first date at 3am sits in a chicken shop with their heels in their hand eating cheesy chips? That is right, me.
Dave insinuated coming back to my house, and obviously, that is when reality hit me I wasn’t on a bar crawl in Magaluf with the girls, I was in fact on a 1st date with a guy I didn’t fancy in the slightest.
Dave didn’t come back to mine, I fell into an Uber, got driven home and woke up by the driver when I was outside.
I went to sleep and woke up in the morning with my room smelling of rum and the left over take away from the night before.
I unmatched Disco Dave pretty fast, and unfollowed him off Instagram so I could never be reminded of my embarrassing night again. That’s the end of him then.
Love you and leave you,