A Rather Odd Evening

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on here. Partly because I haven’t had that many truly horrifying dates, and partly because, until a few months ago, I’d barely been dating at all.

Over the last few months, I’ve been on dates with a few different people. None have been particularly terrible, but equally, none have exactly been anyone I’d consider investing in a double oven with.

There was one guy I genuinely liked and had some great dates with, although you wouldn’t necessarily have known it from the communication in between. He’d ask when he was going to see me again, which was an interesting question given I was apparently the only person capable of making that happen. I’d organise the dates, we’d have a lovely time, and then he’d vanish into thin air.

Conversation was equally sporadic, so I assumed he wasn’t that interested in the end and got on with my life. Then, after a week of silence, he popped up to explain that he’d temporarily lost access to his phone. I’m not entirely sure what prompted this update, given we’d barely been speaking anyway, but there we go. I decided I couldn’t be bothered with the guesswork. If he wanted to see me, he knew where I was. The ball was in his court and, shock horror, it’s still there.

Then there was the guy who didn’t drink. Now, I appreciate that not drinking is a perfectly reasonable lifestyle choice. But as a millennial, alcohol is practically a part of my personality. And imagining introducing a teetotaller to my parents, who live in wine country, where a morning glass of wine is practically a breakfast beverage, felt like setting everyone up for an awkward family Christmas.

And then there’s the most recent one, who has inspired this post and, quite possibly, put me off dating for another six months.

I’d met him a few times and was genuinely excited about it. He was funny, had great chat and was (is?) very into me. I like a man who knows what he wants and takes the initiative to organise dates.

Things were going well. Until last night.

We went to a comedy show and afterwards stopped at a bar because we were early for dinner. He was sitting opposite me when, completely out of nowhere, he lifted his hand and smeared it down my face, from my forehead to my chin.

Now, I’m not a particularly precious person, but I do have a fairly standard policy on people touching my face without permission.

“Eurgh, please don’t do that again. I hate it when people touch my face.”

His response?

“But it’s funny.”

And then he did it again.

At this point, I was pretty clear.

“Seriously, stop.”

He stopped. We got up and walked to dinner. And then, AS WE WERE WALKING, he did it again. Which, given that we were both moving, meant he essentially just smacked me in the face.

I told him to stop. Again.

Two minutes later, he tried it AGAIN, spectacularly missing his intended target and instead absolutely pelting me in the mouth. His ring hit my tooth. At this point, I was no longer on a date. I was participating in an unsolicited contact sport. I was pretty pissed off, but decided to force myself through dinner. During which, he did it TWICE MORE.

SIX TIMES. I counted.

Not because I’m keeping a tally of my dates, but because apparently I was now collecting evidence for a very niche court case. I eventually went back to my sister’s house, wondering what on earth had just happened and whether I’d accidentally wandered into an episode of Jackass.

Which brings me to a few questions.

Is this normal behaviour on a date? Does anyone actually do this in real life, unless they’re trying to wind up a sibling? And even then, surely you do it twice, get told to piss off, and move on with your life?

Why do some people struggle so spectacularly with the word NO? I genuinely don’t understand it. I said I didn’t like it. I asked him to stop. I told him to stop again. And again. At what point does a grown man realise that repeatedly smacking someone in the face isn't flirting? I’m all for playful banter. I enjoy a bit of teasing. But there’s a fairly significant difference between making someone laugh and repeatedly doing something they’ve explicitly told you they hate.

And honestly, that’s the bit that’s given me the ick. Not just the bizarre behaviour itself, but the fact that he knew I didn’t like it and carried on anyway. I don’t think there’s any crawling back from this one. Although, given his apparent inability to understand boundaries, I wouldn’t rule out him trying to wipe the slate clean. Or my face.

But now I’m left with the practical issue of how to end things.

What on earth do you even say?

“Hey, I’ve had a think and I don’t want to see you again because you kept dragging your hand down my face after I repeatedly asked you not to, eventually punching me in the mouth with your ring.”

It’s all factually accurate, but it’s not exactly a standard rejection text.

Do I explain? Do I just say I’m not feeling it? Do I send him a link to this post and let the internet deal with it?

Honestly, I’m baffled.

On the plus side, it’s given my sister the perfect opportunity to take over my Bumble account and start searching the boroughs of London for my next date. Nothing says healthy dating habits quite like outsourcing your love life to a family member.

Wish me luck!