That’ll be a coffee for one

Tinder is proving to be a confidence boost.  I am being fairly picky about who I swipe right, and picking people I find interesting or funny.  Curiously, not many for having an extremely toned body.  Of course, that is on the fucket list, but having known a couple of guys who are building their muscle, they’re probably quite difficult to have a coffee or meal out with. Eat clean?  Sure, give my food a wash and please don’t play with it too much on the plate before I eat it, but otherwise I like my food dirty.  Yes please to full fat, sugar and caffeine.

I matched with a few guys all in the space of a few hours.  Even I, a well-qualified talker, struggled to maintain multiple conversations.  Gradually, conversation dwindled as we discovered that our interests weren’t in common or they didn’t quite live up to the carefree ‘live life’ attitude of their profile, citing work stress as being a reason for not meeting!  Some were only interested in me for jack-off photographs, pressing me for my telephone number and when I reluctantly gave in, continuing to harrass me for semi-clad photographs of myself.  On one occasion I thought I’d see what happens when I send a couple, after all this is modern dating right?  Disappointingly, I was proven correct on that occasion and the other party became strangely silent.  You could even say, a ghost.

#3 Lesson Learned: I do not send any photographs of yourself semi-clad or nude until I have met the other person and I can verify with my own eyes that they are who they claim to be. 

I digress.  A place and time were arranged to meet this particular suitor – in pu1blic of course, following earlier lessons – in a few days.  He was handsome, tall, good head of hair, seemed to do interesting activities we could chat about, made me giggle.  A tall guy really ticks my boxes, particularly as I’m quite tall.  The conversation flowed quite easily, and as other conversations dried up, we still had things to say.  He made me feel good about myself, and not over-the-hill.  This was particularly important to me, as he was about 10 years younger.  We exchanged stories about dating experiences, so he was aware that I had not been on the scene for long.  However, as the days ticked by, I started to feel uneasy.  The flirty banter that had flowed easily was slowing down.  To stagnant.  This mama has precious child-free time, so to have it wasted is meh.

The day before the scheduled meet,  I sent a message to say I was looking forward to meeting in person.  Nothing.  On the actual day, a couple of hours before a really breezy ‘see ya later’ message.  (I promise it was breezy and fun.)  Nothing.  I decided to go anyway, knowing it would likely be coffee for one, as the meet wasn’t too far from my house and I wanted the satisfaction of knowing that I had done what I’d said I would do.  I put a book in my bag just to be on the safe side.

Mother Nature timed the torrents of rain perfectly.  Driving to the cafe, I was aware of having to put the windscreen wipers on the second level of wiping speed.  I was wearing cute but impractical ballet slippers, skinny jeans, a vest top and slinky cardigan.  Nothing vaguely waterproof. (It was supposed to be summer.)  I parked up and hunted in the car for an umbrella, then remembered I had lent it to a friend.  *Eye roll.*  I began the ten minute puddle dodging to the agreed cafe.

I arrived at the cafe, my clothes a shade darker than when I had left home.  People were staring at me as I entered.  I can only assume they were thinking “Well, I was going to go home, but I’ll stay for another drink if that’s how wet it is out there,” or more likely; “Is that woman a complete idiot?  Why does she have such impractical shoes and no umbrella? Can she not see it’s raining?”


I was pleased to order my coffee, curl up on a chair and slip my shoes off.  I stayed for 45 minutes, reading my book.  He didn’t show up.  Or maybe he did, saw the state of me, and left.

#4 Lesson Learned:  If it’s a first date and I haven’t heard from the other person for a few days, I send a polite message to say I won’t be attending, as I’m not confident they will show up. I do this the day before.  I have never simply not showed up.  It’s a shitty thing to do.

The rain stopped and the watery sun came out.  It was a sign; I had been stood up and survived!  In fact, it had made me stronger.  I puddle dodged on the way back too, but had music playing and turned it into a game.  I am that person that does a weird dance-walk down the street.  Later that evening, I even managed a really cool 80’s crimp-wave effect on my hair!  I like that I’m weird.

Until next time,

Misty K xoxo





Author: hotterthanyourmama

I am a 38-year-old mama, obsessed with dating.

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