How to Scare a Girl

Photo by Rodan Can on Unsplash

Photo by Rodan Can on Unsplash

Guys - don’t do this.

I did a stint of internet-dating about eight years ago. I had recently dyed my hair blonde and was feeling ready to tackle the world of internet dating again.

One particularly bad date comes to mind. Let’s call him Bob (name changed to protect his identity).

We had agreed to meet in my home town for coffee on a Saturday afternoon at 2pm. He was driving as he lived about 30 minutes away. I circled the cafe a few times, couldn’t see him, so I ordered a pot of tea and sat down.

Around ten minutes past two o’clock, I text him to find out where he is. I have to wait around ten minutes for him to respond, he says he’s just driving into town now. He’s now twenty minutes late.

A few minutes later he phones me.

“I’m here, Jessie! Just driving into town now, I’m almost there, girl.”

“Ok, I’ll wait here at the cafe, see you soon,” I say.

“Can’t you come and meet me outside?”

“No, I’ve already got a pot of tea, and a nice table.” I say firmly.

“Ok, ok, I’ll call you when I’m nearby.”

Ten minutes after that he phones again (now thirty minutes late).

“Right, where’s this cafe? I’m driving up past Natwest…”

“Ah, you’re probably not going to be able to park on the high street. Turn around at the roundabout at the other end, go back down the hill, turn left at the pub and then right into the car park there. You’ll see it, it’s behind Blockbuster.”

“Why don’t you come and meet me and show me where the parking is?”

I really shouldn’t have done this, but after thirty minutes I had pretty much finished my pot of tea. So I made a decision, I was getting impatient, but I wanted to help him find a parking space.

“Ok, I’ll walk down the street. I’m wearing a blue top and jeans. Drive up around the roundabout and back the way you came.”

“Yes yes, gotcha Jessie girl.” He seemed very upbeat but I was getting grumpy.

I phone him as I’m on my way down the street. “I’m now standing on the corner by the pub. When you see me, turn left. Then turn immediately right into the car park. I’m wearing a bright blue top and jeans, and I have lots of blonde hair. You can’t miss me!”

“Ok ok.” Bob says. “I’m driving a silver BMW.”

“Ah, I think I see your car. Turn left here, turn left, turn left NOW… Why didn’t you turn left Bob?”

“Aww, was it that turning?”

“Yes, I can see you.”

“I’m just going to pull in over here, I’m outside Cote.”

“But you can’t park down that way.”

“Come and meet me, I’ve pulled in.”

I sigh. What a drama. “Ok, I’ll be there in a sec.” I say and hurry over the road. I see his silver BMW and walk up to it.

That’s when Bob makes the biggest mistake of all, he opens the passenger car door for me, while staying in the car. “Hey girl, get in and show me where the car park is.”

“No, I’ll meet you back here.” I say. Keep in mind this is the first time I’ve met Bob!

“Ah, come on Jessie, get in and show me where to park. It’ll be easier that way.”

“It’s really easy to find,” I repeat the instructions again. I know the Blockbuster car park like the back of my hand.

Bob gives up, closes the car door, and completely ignores my instructions by going straight ahead and driving down a side street.

I wait impatiently outside Cote. He’s now 45 minutes late.

Bob comes back less than five minutes later. He’s limping really badly, that’s when I remember he said he’d hurt himself playing rugby recently.

“Jessie, why don’t you come and take a look to see if I can park here? It’s just down the road.”

I look at him, like, are you FREAKING KIDDING ME. But instead I bite my tongue and walk with him down the side street to his car, which is clearly parked in a residential zone and requires a permit.

“You can’t park here, look,” I say, pointing to the sign. “The Blockbuster car park is only a minute around the corner.” I give him instructions, for the fifth millionth time, to the car park.

“Why don’t we both get in and you can show me?”

“No, but I’ll meet you back here.”

“Why not?”

I try to sound sweet but I’m quite fed up at this point. “Because I don’t get in cars with guys I’ve just met, Bob.”

He starts laughing. “Why? That’s silly. Do you think I’m going to chuck you in my boot and drive off or something crazy?” He laughs some more.

I look at him in amazement. Yes, you idiot. That’s EXACTLY why I’m not getting in your car!

“It’ll probably be fine,” I say, gesturing to the car.

We agree to have lunch at Cote. It’s now about an hour after we agreed to meet.

We order lunch and then Bob takes out his wallet and starts slapping ID cards on the table. “Do you think I’m a criminal or something? Look, this is who I am, I’m not a faker, this is my name, I’m a decent Christian man, I wasn’t gonna kidnap you in my car Jess.”

“But I don’t know that, Bob. I’ve just met you.”

“Look, let’s talk about something else,” he says.

Good idea, I think.

At the end of the very short lunch, where I discover we don’t have much in common and he moans a lot about all his friends being married, he suggests we split the bill.

I look at him, trying to hide my disgust. I had at least expected him to foot the bill after being so late!

I’m never seeing you again, I think.

“Ok,” I reply, getting out my purse. Just after we’ve paid, my phone rings. It’s my flatmate.

SAVED BY THE BELL.

“JESS! I’m locked out! Can’t find my keys. Are you nearby?”

“Oh no! Sure, I can come home straight away!” I assure her. “Sorry Bob, something’s come up. My flatmate is locked out, gotta run!”

And I scarper faster than you ever did see me run.

The moral of the story, kids, is never get in a car with a man you’ve just met. No matter how much he pressures you! Secondly, if a guy is so late to a date and doesn’t apologise, don’t waste your time meeting him at all. My much older and wiser self would have abandoned the date after 30 minutes.

And men, don’t ever ask a girl to get in your car if it’s the first time you’ve met. It may sound gentlemanly, but a sensible girl will turn you down.

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