In a new 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 one girl’s attempts to venture into the dating jungle, play the field and share any wisdom that she finds along the way!
Week Four - Time To Say Goodbye
Elton John was of the opinion that sorry seemed to be the hardest word but in my experience, goodbye is a lot tougher.
While we ladies go into every date with unfettered optimism, the shine generally wears off pretty quickly and we are left spending hours plotting the perfect exit strategy and hoping that he doesn’t turn into a stage five clinger.
Of course, if you are a bit indecisive, deciding to put down your fledging relationship can be an ordeal in itself. Maybe he’ll magically develop table manners if we go on a few dates? Maybe he’s a grower and I’ll start to fancy him after a while? Maybe the fact that he makes Chris Hemsworth look like a minger will eventually compensate for the fact that he’s an utter arsehole?
Generally, the answer to all of these questions is ‘no’. And the answer to the third one is definitely ‘no’.
That’s why I use the third date rule. Not the ‘don’t sleep with a guy until the third date rule’ as I’m a firm believer that whether it’s the first or the fiftieth, you should always go with your gut but instead, after the third date, I ask myself whether I’m honestly, really into the guy. If not, I cut him loose.
This week, I had to part ways with The Snowboarder but luckily, after a few nice dates, I think we were both pretty much on the same page. We got on but there was no major spark. The inevitable goodbye could have been carried out with a minimum of fuss – if I hadn’t left a notebook, containing important stuff, in his house after our last encounter. Total rookie error.
After a few days, I decided to bite the bullet and sent him a text asking if he could pop the notebook in the post to my office to which he replied
‘Em, post? Yeah. Do you want your casserole dish back as well?!’ Those who have been following my dating journey will be familiar with the reference, but if not, you can catch up
here.
While I picked up that he might have been slightly sensitive about the rebuff, I had assumed that the case was closed. Imagine my surprise when my phone rang on Saturday morning and his name flashed up. Cowering under the duvet in my hungover state, I decided to ignore the call and see what happened. It was quickly followed by a text saying that he was ‘in the area’ and wanted to drop my stuff back in person.
Now, it may not have been my most mature move but I was in no fit state to be seeing anyone (and definitely not an attractive guy that I might fancy hooking up with in the future) so I pretended that I was in town and he dutifully popped it in the letterbox.
So, another one bites the dust but worry not, my dear readers, I have been hard at work lining up a replacement.
Over a glass of wine on a Friday night, I chatted on Tinder to a very attractive boy from Northern Ireland who works as a DJ in the city centre. He ticked the three main boxes (smart, funny, cute) but my spidey senses also detected that he was, as one of my friends would say (complete with gangster impression), “a playa, playa!”.
Since he only seemed to get out of bed at lunchtime and finished work at around the same time you’d normally be halfway through the walk of shame, it took a little while to arrange a date but eventually we had a mutual night off and decided to head out for a few drinks. The night was progressing well so when he suggested meeting a few friends at a club, I was game.
Over the course of the evening, I became increasingly aware of how close my date seemed to be to one of his female friends but decided I was probably just reading too much into it. However, it turned out that my instincts were correct when The DJ leaned in for a cosy little chat towards the end of the night. Anticipating that he was feeling his luck was in, I made it clear that I was not going to be warming his mattress any time soon and he was very gentlemanly in his assurances that there was no rush. Although it turns out that my comfort was short-lived, as he then started to tell me how much he was looking forward to when he could eventually take me home…and asked whether I would be up for his friend joining us!
Now, I am firmly of the ‘each to their own’ school of thought when it comes to bedroom activities but I got out of that nightclub quicker than Ruby Walsh on a sure thing at Cheltenham. Call me possessive but I like to keep my men all to myself!
Got some awful or hilarious dating stories? Tell us all the gossip by emailing hello@her.ie or tweeting us at @Herdotie with the hashtag #shiftyfirstdates. 
