I'd been dating on and off for a while but not found anything that really took my fancy (sounds like I was choosing some form of cheese). Then I tried POF. I had mocked people, judged friends, and vowed never to use this app, but desperate times lead me to it.

I'd been toing and froing as to weather to go on a date with this guy that started chatting to me, as he was just far to perfect. Why the hell was he on POF in the first place?? My friends convinced me that he was probably the same as me, just super busy all the time, and not a weirdo. Little did they know I classed myself as a relationship inept oddball with a loner tendency. Needless to say their little pep talks didn’t give me much hope.

I decided what the hell, he was tall (yes guys this is important), good looking and a personal trainer (woooweee). How the hell had I landed such a babe! The first date was a success, he was hot, friendly and chatty. He didn’t pay for my food which I found off putting on a first date (I’m sorry boys, but we have to remove all hair on our body, you should at least pay for our meals), but no real complaints.

We scheduled another date – YAY a 2^nd date! Texting everyday, I was excited that someone was as keen as me and hadn’t be turned off by my weird chats about hairless cats or “would you rather” questions (would you rather a vagina on your forehead for the rest of your life or willys down your back like a dinosaur). I asked if we could just go to a bar this time – his response, no. No?? Because he was a personal trainer he didn’t really drink, hmmm, ok seemed logical. So we went for a nice meal again, no he didn’t pay, again. Then I suggested going for a drink.

“Look, lets just go to this bar round the corner, Ill have alcohol and you can have a J2O or something?”

His ego looked dented.

“If your drinking, I’m drinking”

Sweet, my persuasive drinking powers had worked. We went to the bar and he dilly daddled around what he wanted to have. As he didn’t normally drink, his chosen poison was straight up Jack Daniels. What the hell. For someone who didn’t drink I was impressed. He even paid, so things were looking up!

                                            

We discuss general date topics but quickly it took weird turn. He started talking about how we were all computers and the man was making us all conform to boring unity (someone’s whisky had definitely kicked in). I then foolishly asked what his parents did to have such beliefs. His mum was a cleaner and he didn’t know his dad. Oh and by the way…

“My mums a psychic. Yeah really interesting” - he managed to get out slurring.

(Genuine thought that this was one of the most interesting things about this guy)

“Yeah, I kind of have the gift as well”

He stopped just short of saying he saw dead people, at this point I just stared. He then continued to elaborate on the story of how he’d channelled his ex girlfriend’s dead uncle and could tell her the layout of  his home having never seen it in real life.

At the end of his story I continued to stare. Feeling awkward and unsure how to proceed, I suggested another drink, of which he turned down. Thank the lord. I thought, actually this scenario would have been ok if it had been our 5^th date, (well would it of?), or if he’d asked some questions about me, but the shine of his beauty and perfect white teeth had gone, and the fact that all the way through his story he hadn’t made me laugh once was an instant turn off, no looks could save that. Did he think I was a part of the machine as well? Rude.

He walked me back to the tube stop and as we made it to the line I told him I was heading another way home. I walked around the corner, crouched and hid for 5 minutes until he had safety got on a tube – the crouching was unnecessary.

I love 6^th sense as much as the next person, but not when your  date turns out to be the creepy kid.