My Date with a Director

A long distance fling with a 40 year old crackhead, being savagely ghosted by a posh boy and being condemned for addressing a dwarf as a “midget”. No, this isn’t a game of would you rather, it was the state of my dating life. After a tub or two of Half Baked and Cookie Dough I felt bloated, pathetic and HSBC was on the blower telling me I had entered an “un arranged overdraft.” So I switched to smoking cigarettes and re downloaded Hinge. For the third time.

Things started off rough.

I was biting off more than I could chew- tossing likes around, (reaching the like limit) and not getting much back. Dudes liking me had answers on their profile such as “Probably won’t reply to U”, or “First round’s on me if you…just show up.” As I was about to delete the app again, I stopped in my tracks. There was a like from a director I was obsessed with. Drake’s “God’s Plan” never resonated with me more.

Meeting boys in Paris

“This has to be the wrong address.” 

Look down at google, then back up at the place.

No, it is right. 

Fabulous.

LE PALACE CLUB

We’re outside an old theatre, with three weird men outside, 
who all look like ex cons.

Reluctantly we enter the hallway, 
which looks like it’s seen no action since the 1920s. 

Go down some steps and open two heavy black doors to find…

Surviving a Shit Show: Pt 2

Needless to say I wasn’t killed in a satanic ritual. (read pt 2 here)

Instead, Black Hair and I were kissing on the stairwell outside his grandparent’s flat.
Each kiss left me dizzy and I was waiting for it to get boring but it never did, so I reached for his belt to unbuckle but he swatted me away.

At 6am, as I was leaving, he remarked:

“I have blue balls.”
On the Uber ride home I wondered if he was gay, or if he wanted to take things “slow” which is pretty much the same thing.

Surviving a Shit Show

We’re on a cobbled, narrow street in the 6th arrondissement, and either he’s trying to race me, or lose me.

In any case, he looks like a fucking show off.

He finally clocks I’m not beside him and turns around, only to locate me four feet behind, wedged between a pram and a man with a walking stick.