In this weekly feature, Her.ie goes behind enemy lines to see what it’s really like to be single in Ireland. From speed dating to making speedy escapes, our no-holds-barred blog will follow our attempts to venture into the dating jungle, play the field and share any wisdom that we finds along the way.

---

Week Thirty-Eight: Jeepers Creepers First of all, apologies for being quiet as of late but you’ll be delighted to know that I’ve kept my promise and been on a date or two since my last post. After a few admittedly tedious conversations on Plenty Of Fish, one fella grabbed my attention after he sent me on a link to a song he thought that I might like. Since the most romantic approach I’d gotten up to this point was ‘How r ya?’, he immediately shot the top of the pile and we began to chat. So far, so good. The chats continued for a week or so and while he seemed a little intense now and then, I quickly reminded myself that most other guys I’ve met have considered buying me a drink a serious commitment. So, when he asked to meet up, I decided to pop my POF cherry. We checked when we were free and decided on a quiet drink on a Sunday evening, as he had his staff party on Friday and would no doubt be recovering the following day. When the weekend rolled around, I headed out for a few sociables with my mates and it was just before midnight when a text arrived from Mr Sunday asking what I was up to. I sent a casual reply to tell him I was out for drinks at my local, to which he said that he had finished at his staff do and asked if he could pop in and meet us. Horrified at the thought of conducting our first date under the prying eyes of my friends, I refused and told him I’d meet him on Sunday as planned. He text back saying to let him know if I changed my mind and that was the end of that… or so I thought. While all this texting was going on, the girls (obviously) enquired as to who this new buachaill was and I showed them his photo on my phone. Diversion dealt with, we returned to our gossip session and were deep into discussing the pros and cons of Angela’s snog with John from Sales at the Christmas party when she stopped dead (right in the middle of a very juicy part of the story!) and said the dreaded words… “don’t look behind you, but…”. Yes, Mr Sunday was there. F**k. Now, in case you’re thinking it was an unfortunate coincidence, I had (stupidly) mentioned the pub I was in while talking to him earlier so he knew in no uncertain terms that I was there and obviously thought that this was a great time for an introduction. I steeled myself for the awkward approach and waited… and waited…. and… nothing. As my back was to the door, I kicked my friend under the table and asked her for an immediate report on his whereabouts. “He’s just kind of… sitting… over there in the corner,” she said. Yep, he sat alone in another corner of the bar and didn’t come over. While I was getting slightly freaked out at this point, I decided to cut him a bit of slack and reasoned that maybe he was too shy to come straight over and was going to text to let me know he was here. Ten minutes later, I realised he had no intention of doing that either. Now, in my retrospective ‘I’m a confident woman’ rehash of this story, I should be able to say that I took control of the situation and approached him… but I didn’t. I finished my pint and with my tail between my legs, headed off with Angela and Liz in tow. Creep Level? 10. However, it appears there is a level above ten for the serious dedicated creeper as Mr Sunday text me later on to ask me if I had a good night. Again, I probably should called him on it but at this point, I just wanted to distance myself from the situation so I ignored it. He then text the following day to see if we were still on for Sunday, to which I replied and said ‘no’. He said ‘Ok but I just want you to know that I was really drunk last night’. Now, call me judgemental but if this guy decides to stalk women he’s never met every time he has a few drinks, then I have a feeling he’s not my happy ever after. And, for the record, he looks nothing like Jamie Dornan either. Onwards and upwards, ladies! We want to hear your dating stories!  Tweet us @Herdotie with the #shiftyfirstdates or email hello@her.ie.