Sleeping with the Enemy

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Simon Blish

Simon Blish

Writing, drawing, editing - Simon loves it all.
Simon Blish

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What happens when things move too fast in your head but reality doesn’t have time to catch up? I’ll tell you; fake romance. Or faux-mance as I like to call it. You may recall the soppy but also brutally honest and heartfelt confession I wrote the other week. I thought I had fallen out of monotonous dating into something real – which may very well be the case, but I soon realised that I’d gotten a bit ahead of myself. I’m not going to go into too much detail, as it’s a bit too personal, but let’s just say I’m very much not in a relationship right now.

I actually thought I was in love with this person and I basically don’t even know him. I had a big bite of reality (tasted a bit like chicken) and I needed a distraction. Quickly. It was on a Saturday night, the day following another weekly date with the alleged Mr Right, that I finally snapped.

I was on the tube and spotted a familiar face across the carriage. I knew that face from somewhere, and it took me a couple of minutes to figure it out. Realising it was the stubbly face of an OK Cupid profile who had ‘liked me’ a few weeks back, my optimism blossomed like a flower in spring. What were the odds of this man sitting on the same carriage as me at the same time? Had I stood merely meters to the left at Holborn station none of this would have happened.

We had already exchanged numbers and been in contact before, so as soon as I got off the train I texted him. One thing led to another and at my request he agreed to meet for a drink later that night. We met in Islington around 10pm and walked for about half an hour before getting to a pub near Dalston. The walk was really nice – he was chatty, charming, witty, and the repertee between us had none of the usual awkwardness I often succumb to.

Whilst in the bar we went through some of the obvious first date conversations, but in a really nice, casual way. I felt like this was definitely a “romantic comedy” moment – dating profile, leads to taking the same train, me being confused by another guy sparking the urge to see someone else. The universe was definitely trying to set this up and I was happy to oblige.

However, it wasn’t long until he dropped what seemed like a political bomb. He spoke about a previous dating effort that he had embarked upon a few weeks earlier, saying that the guy he’d seen had mentioned that his friend had been on ‘the most awful date ever with this guy who turned out to be a massive Tory’.

I was like ‘Oh, yeah that’s happened to me too!’ – expecting a mutual eye roll and sarcastic comment (remember the Jaguar driving Tory incident?). But his response was far from what I had expected; ‘No, in fact, I’m a Tory and I found it really weird’.

Seriously? Great. Just what I needed. Turns out he wasn’t ‘just a Tory’ – he also hates vegetarians, soy milk, and it emerged that he believed that the majority of Eastern Europe will migrate to the UK. At this point I was so deflated and upset I had to specifically say; ‘Let’s talk about something else before you make me cry’.

Did I leave? Did I end the date? That would have been sensible, so of course I didn’t. We carried on to a ridiculously extravagant cocktail bar I dragged him to.

We stayed in said bar until 4 am. Needless to say I had drowned my sorrows to the point where I dropped an entire drink all over myself – mostly on the crotch area so we had to make a swift exit. I made him come home with me to my humble Hoxton abode just to prove my proletarian status. I was also covered in booze and needed help getting out of my skinny jeans as my legs were marinating in overpriced bourbon.

We drunkenly argued as he kept pointing out Apple products in my room calling me a ‘champagne socialist’. As though I can afford champagne!? It was however the most political sex I have ever had and it was pretty obvious the next morning that we weren’t going to see each other again.

So far in my dating experiences I’ve been under the impression that I’m doing something wrong, that I’m incapable of any normal kind of relationship. But in fact, now I think I just attract completely unhinged men and the situations that follow are equally ridiculous. I really need to put an end to this behaviour, but first I have to go to the clinic to get tested for Tory.

And just like that, I’m single again.