The 3rd date L bomb!
I had been single for a while but I had my fair share of one-night stands, a man had needs, and a gay man in a small village in Wales has a lot of needs but locating these is always an interesting hobby.
I started the dreaded dating apps; I was on them all! From tinder to Grinder.
I was now an interactive homo seeking attention from any tom, dick and harry! And at one stage I think I eventually met all three, not at the same time, of course, however, I’m pretty sure that may have also happened at some point, but I digress.
There I was, a glass of wine in one hand and my mobile in another, swipe swipe here, and a swipe swipe there, tinder of course.
Then there’s Grindr, and boom 10 messages in 10 seconds, 4 profiles with a face and 6 profiles with no face.
The 6 faceless profiles at the time were the most interesting to me,
Why the no face?
Why the secrecy? And if you wait a while you get to find out,
Oh, I’m not out?
My wife is away this weekend, fancy coming over.
My girlfriend is in bed, should we meet tonight?
Yes, Grinder is a hive of men in denial, married men galore and lads lads lads who are clearly gay gay gay.
Weeks went by and I had chatted with an array of guys, from you traditional gent to your exceptionally perverted! Grindr truly is the pick a mix counter of highly sexed gays.
One day a rather cute guy messaged me, he said Hi, I responded with, Hi! A Very intellectual conversation.
We continued to chat for days on end, things were looking interested so I decided to go for it, I asked him out on a date! We agreed on a time, day and location and it was done, we were going to meet, a date was officially booked in.
It was the day of the date, we decided Swansea was the location of choice, my favourite Swansea coffee shop was the destination. I for one like a coffee date, it means I don’t get overly drunk and make a prat of myself, I let this happen at the second date where we are both drinking.
He was much more handsome than his profile photo, however, he was a tad shorter than I imagined.
Cue overly judgmental internal monologue, however, he did remind me a little of my first boyfriend, still unsure if this was a good or a bad thing.
The date went well, we chatted for hours and it was done.
The date had happened, and now date was over. We hugged and went our separate ways.
I invited him over to my house, for some Netflix and chill, yes I said it, Netflix and chill. Even saying it out loud makes me cringe. However, even though I call it Netflix and chill it was, in fact, a rental from Sky Movies! So, I’ll have to coin my version of Sky Movies and chill, no, just no!
As the tradition of Netflix and chill, things got interesting! We kissed and fooled around. To this day I couldn’t tell you what film I had rented of Sky movies however all I know is I spend and wasted £5.99.
Following the weekend, and this may surprise you but I’m avid rugby supported, well mainly when Wales are playing. What more can you ask for, men in shorts, tackling each over in mud whilst chasing a ball, it’s the epitome of homosexual sport.
If it’s good for Nigel Owens it's good for me.
However, that weekend was a local charity rugby tournament, and it was a little tradition that myself and my girls would go to the club and support the boys in their tight shorts, while we ogled them with a cold pint of carling in our hands.
It was a day sesh, so the beer had been flowing since 11 am, and we were on a mission, mission staying alive and end up in Carmarthen.
Numerous pints in, and it was nearing the evening. It’s fair to say that at this point of the evening we were all merry, well more moderately intoxicated. We had some casualties on the way and had lost some through the night, yet the main crew were going strong.
My phone went, unknown number? Who could this be? It was Mr Netflix n Chill, I must admit after speaking to him that night I did in fact save his number as Mr Netflix N. Chill, shameful.
He phoned to say that he wanted to see that night, but I was on a mission, we were off to Carmarthen, it’s what the sesh wanted, it was calling us and it was telling us Carmarthen was our final destination. He was ok with this, well he had to be, there was no other answer.
Did he offer to pick me up, from Carmarthen? 'Yeah, I'll pick you up tonight if you want?'
I drunkenly offered for him to stay in mine while he waited to come and get me. He was at my house when nobody else was there, he had my key and was at my house!
I had, in my intoxicated blur, invited a stranger to stay in my house whilst I wasn’t there. What was I thinking?
He came to get me from Carmarthen, he stayed the night and thankfully No funny business, well I was epically drunk at this stage and when I’m drunk and I see my bed then there no going back, I am out for the count!
Next day, I wake up from my death. The hangover is unreal. I look over and there he is, in my bed staring at me. I must admit at this stage I had forgotten he was there, this was not a good sign, plus what’s with the staring.
And that’s when he dropped the L bomb on me, after 3 dates, there it was.
I think I’m falling in love with you!
On the day that I was dying from the world’s worst hangover, he decided to tell me he loved me.
What the hell?
Is it humanly possible to love a person after 3 dates? I mean 3 dates are just 3 days.
Am I the cold heartless bitch that doesn’t believe this is a possibility? Surely not.
I couldn’t respond, and to be honest, the hangover was blinding so I couldn’t string a sentence together if you paid me.
He got dressed, kissed me on the forehead and left the house.
You can’t write this stuff, well clearly you can…
He messaged me a few times afterwards but I started ghosting him.
This is when I found out what ghosting was.
For those of you who are unaware of this phenomenon, ghosting is basically when you start ignoring messages from people, mainly people that you’ve been on a date with but no longer what to communicate with them.
I re-joined tinder, grinder and any other dating app going at the time.
For some reason, I download them, join them and within a few weeks delete them before re-joining and continuing a ridiculous circle of downloading, creating and deleting like I’m disgusted with myself.
The people at these dating sites must hate me, as I’m forever creating and deleting accounts which must be clogging up their servers or they're all sitting there going,
‘Oh, he’s joined again Dave, I wonder how long it’s going to be until he decides to delete us again?’
‘What do you think Barbra, 14 days this time or less?’
Honestly, I couldn’t tell you how many times I re-join these toxic and unrealistic platforms, but for some reason I’m forever drawn to them yet I never actually use them for the reason they were designed.
But there I was, back on the dating scene, well the digital dating scene. Spoke to a few guys, can’t call them gents, but a few guys. Exchanged a few messages, spoke to numerous faceless profiles aka married men in denial and looking for a bit of fun, no thank you, sir.
And one cannot forget the variety of pic-a-mix cock pics, Why? What is the fascination with the idea of sending a photo of your penis to another guy? I used to reply with “a very nice, however, I already have one!”
I wish I was one of those gay guys who would happily chat with a guy, jump into the car, meet them in a remote location, do the dirty deed then leave happily relieved, in more ways than one.
However, I am not this kind of gay, and this is the gospel truth.
My one-night stand days used to be, meet a guy in a club, highly intoxicated, go back to mine etc but this was when I was a moderately younger gay man full of confidence and with a reasonable sized waist and a size small in shirts.
However I now find myself, in my 30s (still young of course) slightly heavier with an ever increasing waist band and now I face a new challenge in my life.
Apparently being a gay guy in your 30s is OLD, well according to some superficial twinks!
30 in gay years is Old! WTF, what does that even mean?