Having finally ended a 6 year relationship back in July 2022, I decided to spend a period of time on my own. It was great at first. I took the kids to the Caribbean in October, I spent time reading about relationships and began to engage in the type of love for myself that I had never received from a romantic relationship.

After the holiday I felt ready to dip my toe back into the world of online dating. So in early December I set up a Tinder profile and a Facebook dating profile. I went into it with the same intention that I had 7 years previous; to find something long term but to have fun with the process along the way.

Pretty quickly I got chatting to several men. A few of which caught my eye more than the others.

On my child free weekend, I set up a few dates. This is a tale of the most notable. so far….

I’m not bothered so much by a man’s height so I wasn’t phased when a 5’5” man sent me a lovely message. He was very forthcoming and clear in the messages about what he was looking for and it ticked all of my boxes. He asked how tall I am, I am about 5’3” so everything looked positive.

I think very carefully about what I wear for a first date as I don’t want to give off slag vibes. I don’t expose boobs or bum. So nothing low cut or short. I picked a nice dress that emphasised my curves but was high necked and long skirted. We had arranged to meet at a pub about a half hour drive from my home that I am familiar with.

I’m always early but this time I was deliberately early. I’d asked him to meet me by the door. I parked where I could get a good view but not be seen.

I saw a very small man approach the entrance and look around. At this point, I’m thinking that I could drive off. Maybe size does matter to me after all! But then I realised that I’d gone to the effort of make up and outfit and fuel and I was feeling a bit thirsty. So I got out of the car and approached the pub entrance.

“Here she is, gorgeous” boomed the loudest voice. “You look fantastic, really beautiful, I’m so nervous”. I thanked him, reassured him not to be nervous and we walked inside. I’m glad I didn’t wear heels cos this man was shorter than me. He continued to talk, loudly, with a strong South African accent. That was my favourite thing about him, the accent.

We sat down and he got us both a drink. I asked him a few questions and he kept the compliments flowing. I got a bit uncomfortable with the compliments so I explained politely that he had been very generous with them but that I wasn’t good at taking compliments. he told me to get used to it. Then the conversation changed!

I asked about his daughter and he gave me a full blown account of her conception with a woman he wasn’t serious about but they had great sex in the back of their cars. It was a brief encounter but he’s a good Dad, apparently.

I asked about his family, he said his mum is desperate for him to settle down and that I might be the lucky girl. Steady on.

I asked about South Africa. He said he would take me sometime if I’m good at blow jobs.

I asked about his job. He told me I was too pretty to understand.

I tried to get the conversation about anything other than sex when he informed me of some vital information about himself. That he isn’t a fan of doggy style as he prefers to make love and see a woman’s face as she orgasms. There were young children at the table next to ours.

I’d been thinking about what excuses to make to get out of there for the duration of the date. regretting not driving off earlier.

I made it clear that sex is important to me, quite a big deal really. That sex should mean something and that therefore there would be no immediate sex in cars, blow jobs or intercourse, doggy style or not.

He asked how many dates it would take for me to have sex with him. He’d done the maths and based on what I’d said, if he needed to wait 20 dates, with one date per week, that would be 20 weeks/ approx 5 months. I told him that I can’t put a timescale on it.

I was seriously freaked out by this point, thinking that the convo could not possibly get any worse. I was putting his forwardness down to cultural differences. When he uttered the words “just so you know, I don’t like the smell of burning rubber”. I took a few seconds to register.

He doesn’t like to wear a condom.

Now he’s really taking the piss. It was time to play this particular arsehole at his own game.

“That’s ok, but I shall be requiring a full clear STD check”, “I haven’t been with anyone dirty”.

“You don’t know what people are carrying, so no rubber, no sex”, “do you know what that involves for a man?”, “yes, do you know the side effects of chlamydia, gonorrhoea or HIV?” “ok ok, that’s fine so long as you’re there to hold my hand!”

“Don’t worry about that mate, they send the tests through the post these days”.

A few minutes later I was making my excuses that my children would be home soon so I had to go.

He embraced me goodbye 🤢 and asked to see me again 🚫

I’ve never left a one way car park quicker, through the entrance not the exit so he couldn’t follow me.

And that was the only burning rubber he’d be getting from me!