Or, a Tinder catastrophe.
Tonight I went on a Tinder date. I was all set for a lovely evening but instead it ended with a police statement.
Lets call him Joe.
I was talking to ‘Joe’ yesterday (after messaging off and on for a few weeks) and he asked to take me to the movies. I was really keen to see the Hunger Games and seeing as this was my only free night this week I agreed.
We met at South Bank cinema where the lovely Joe had already purchased our tickets, popcorn and drinks. Rather thoughtful.
In the cinema we chatted the whole time until the movie started. He was intelligent, witty, built like a brick shithouse and I was pleased I made the effort to meet him.
We had a couple of laughs during the movie and afterwards he invites me to choose somewhere to go for dinner. Hilariously, he had already approached someone called Rachael in the line for tickets and she had gently explained she was the wrong Rachael and he was mortified!
After the movies he asked me if I would like to join him for dinner. We walked all around South Bank and settled on Ahmets, ordered drinks and a bunch of plates to share. I had a delicious glass of red and warm, fresh bread with baba ganoush dip and was enjoying some great conversation with good ol’ Joe at the front of the outdoor dining section of the restaurant.
Next thing I know a lady taps me on the shoulder, I turn around and she asks ‘are you on a date?’ Confused, I looked blankly and she repeated the question, to which I replied yes. BAM!!! She punches him smack bang in the face then follows up with a strong slap before looking at me yelling ‘I’m his fiancé!’ Then attacking him running down the street.
With about 30 pairs of eyes on me I just sat there dumbfounded. Absolutely gob smacked. Eventually all the patrons began asking if I was okay and the staff came over to take care of me. One lady yelled out ‘excuse me Miss, is that your boyfriend?’ to which I replied ‘actually, I think he is her boyfriend’ which conjured a collective gasp from the other patrons. I hands down thought I was being punk’d! Embarrassed, I grabbed my bag and went inside.
The staff were so very kind to which I am thankful. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I had just paid the bill for both our dinners (with a heavy discount thanks to the considerate staff member) when security showed up.
Then the fiancé came back to ask me about her partner.
How did I meet him? Tinder.
Did I know he was engaged? Of course not.
When did we start talking? Last night.
Were we going to have sex? No lady, it’s just dinner and a movie.
My heart went out to this poor woman who had just been going for a casual dessert with a friend when she stumbled across her fiancé of three years, whom she shares a UK visa with, sitting having a date with me. Way to ruin your evening.
Next thing I know, the cops show up. ‘Joe’ had been found covered in blood wandering around South Bank. She’d beaten the crap out of him. Good job I say!
After giving my statement to the police who had joined the Tinder-tastrophe party and packing up my dinner to eat later (funnily enough I had lost my appetite) I walked back to my car only to find an $85 parking ticket. What a night!
