The Fake Date
So, yeah, I went on that date with The Fireman. Yep, that’s right. I went on a date with a man I broke up with over ten years ago.
I’ll never learn from my mistakes will I?
In my defence it wasn’t really a date. He’d told me he wanted to start a business and needed a helping hand with some of the website-y stuff. That’s my thing isn’t it? Words and websites? I agreed to meet him – he would pick me up at 4pm, take me for dinner at the seaside or cook for me at his and then make sure I got home again that night. I figured he’d keep going and going until he eventually got the date so I said yes. I cancelled the first day but the second, I couldn’t find an excuse for. So I went.
He was late which I let slide because I’m late for everything. One of the first things he said to me when I got into the car was that we were going to the seaside and he’d be dropping the car at his before we went anywhere. I questioned why…? I wasn’t going to be drinking. I don’t drink. “Yeah but I do,” was his response which quite frankly, pissed me off.
He knew I didn’t drink before we arranged the date. He knew I didn’t want to drink before we arranged the date. So why was the first thing he said to me when I got into his car alcohol-related. After a minor disagreement, he agreed he wouldn’t drink or if he did, he’d only have one or two so that he could still drive. By train it would take me over an hour to get home and I’d forgotten my headphones. I hate public transport with no music.
We went for dinner – Nepalese. He wouldn’t let me pay so he at least redeemed himself there. The conversation was awkward and stunted though. We have nothing in common these days it would seem. We briefly mentioned exes and health stuff before moving onto life goals and dreams and after about 45 minutes, it was very evident we had NOTHING to talk about anymore. It was the quickest eat-out dinner I’d ever had. We were in, finished and out in a flash.
He took me back to his to see his new flat. He gave me the impression he’d bought this flat but I soon learned he was renting it from his Dad. I then found out his new car (which he’d given me the impression he’d also paid for outright) was financed. When we first met up, it appeared he’d gotten his life back in order. Within a couple of hours it was very obvious he didn’t. He was fucking it up just like the rest of us. I love it when that happens with an ex!
He put on some music and made me a drink – it was an old Portishead album. I’d always loved it and I’d used a couple of the tracks in drama performances in school which I always got A* for by the way. I think he put that album on deliberately to get those nostalgic juices flowing. He was wearing Fahrenheit cologne too – he always wore that ten years ago when we were together and he knew I loved it. Maybe he wore that for my benefit too?
I got the impression he was kinda peacocking at me and at one point, I really wanted to turn around and say to him, “You know this shit doesn’t work for me? This isn’t a date as far as I’m concerned. You may as well give up!”
He took me to the sea front to play in the arcades and things got a little easier. We had fun in there, messing around just as we would have done ten years ago, before moving on to watch some really bad live music on a bar. Cue middle aged woman singing Cher and Dolly Parton songs out of key and you have about the right idea. By the time 10pm came along, I was not only bored but tired too and I asked about heading home. I needed to wait an hour for that too because he’d had a couple of drinks more than he should have done and needed to wait before he could drive. Or we could carry on drinking (seeing as it was Friday night) and I could “sleep on his couch” which basically meant bounce around on his cock. I’m not stupid. I made him drink a soda and lime and sober the fuck up. I wanted my bed.
He messaged me to tell me he was home after he’d dropped me off but that was it. We didn’t even bother with the post-date text-frenzy where you thank each other for a brilliant night. It wasn’t a brilliant night. It was shit. If that had been a real date, he wouldn’t have got a call-back. I had my back up and was defensive before I’d even gotten in his car and the fact that he drank too much, almost made me get the train home by myself late on a Friday night, and text as he drove just added fuel to the fire. I’m not one of those do-gooders by any means but you could at least try NOT to kill me on our first date in ten years.
It just reiterates the point that if I met half my ex-boyfriends brand new right now, I probably wouldn’t like them and I certainly wouldn’t date them. If I had never met the Fireman before and he’d taken me out on a date last night for the first time ever, that date wouldn’t have cut it. It was boring, he had nothing planned and he was a bit of a dousche with the bad driving and drinking behaviour thrown in. It was just an epic fail.
Still, I learned a lesson. Whatever what-if’s there may have been about us starting again with round two ten years later have definitely gone. I don’t even like the guy let alone find him sexually attractive.
I guess exes really are exes for a reason.
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
Read all about The Fireman, the full chapter, right here.
If you’re in the market for something a lil’ spicier, why not check out one of my smutty favourites:
