The Dating Game: #embarrassing

Let me begin at the beginning (because, where else does one begin?!). I was hesitant to go on Tinder (read all about my Tinder episode), and then I did, and then I wasn’t sure about it all, and then I gave it a second chance. And I had a few matches, one weird connection, many weird photos… and finally I arrived at The One. Well, okay, he’s not the one. But for now, he’s The One. The One this Sassy girl went on a date with.

After several exchanges on the Tinder messaging app, it turned into something more. It turned into some WhatsApping, and even a phone call or three, and then the late night calls of course. I was getting hooked. Hooked into what or whom, I don’t quite know, but there were definitely butterflies. I was totally enjoying the attention. It had been slim pickings and Sahara-dry for this one for a long while.

Life can’t just be about sitting glued to your phone, so The One and I agreed to meet. I’d heard his voice down the phone, seen his little profile picture and spoken to him at all hours, so, really, what could go wrong? Although… there was a small bit of doubt nagging me in the back of my mind, reminding me of my mother’s sage advice: don’t talk to strangers. That was the whole point of Tinder though, that you had to talk to a stranger. If I didn’t put myself out there, Ms Sassy was going to die alone, with her nine cats and hoards of newspaper.

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One late night conversation led to plans being made for breakfast just a few hours later. On a weekday. Not sure why we made such plans; maybe we both just wanted to get the nervousness out of the way.

The morning was chilly, so I put on my favourite cobalt knit sweater over some leggings and my kinky leather boots and made my way to the Pancake House. I was determined to show up fashionably late, whatever that meant, or just late in layman’s terms. I was genuinely stuck in traffic; it was a week day after all. What a smart decision we both made.

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After meeting him (phew, he looked normal and just like his profile pic), we got seated for a slightly shorter meeting than planned. Pancakes and coffee were ordered over mumbles of “Oh, I have a meeting in 45 minutes”. Food arrives and I, for some reason, must revert to being a five year old. What do you put on pancakes? Syrup. Rich, sticky, golden syrup. You can totally see where this is going…

The One was sophisticated. He didn’t have any issues with wanting syrup everywhere. No, he was sensible and just asked for blueberries and a smattering of cream. He was a normal adult who knew how to eat food properly. I wish I could say the same about yours truly.

In pouring syrup all over my breakfast, I somehow managed to squirt it all over my favourite cobalt knit sweater. My. Favourite. Cobalt. Knit. Sweater. That. I. Had. Put. On. That. Morning. Just. To. Meet. Him.

I froze in shock, and remained there for what felt like an eternity. Sophisticated and sassy, this girl was just not. As he prompted me to visit the bathroom, I knew in that moment that it would be the first and last time I ever saw him. And the last time I’d ever pour syrup all over my breakfast. Maybe even the last time I’d have a breakfast date. #embarrasing

After scrubbing off as much as I could in the bathroom (thank you to the management for not having any paper towels in there), I headed back to the table, hurriedly finished off breakfast over rubbish small talk and legged it out of there.

Urgh. Would I ever learn? Maybe I had to go to finishing school before I started dating. By the sounds of it, I had to work on me. Me. Me. Me. Or did I?

’Til next time, you Sassy bunch.

Ms. Sassy’s dating tip for the month: Always avoid the syrup. It’ll save you from a wardrobe malfunction.

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