Dating Story Number 10) Bumble Dating App. London, Height 6’1, Interests; Art, Digital Design.

The straw that broke the Camel’s back

The Dating Diaries has come out of temporary retirement to write the straw that broke the camels back. 

I matched with this guy on Bumble, before the dating app fatigue fully took its effect. As usual, not my type, I've decided my type isn’t on a dating app, but his profile was quirky and fun. He posted short videos rather than static photos, which I thought was great and gave me a glimpse of his personality. We hit it off instantly, and he had an air of confidence that I so love in a man.

However, I know that behind a screen, anyone can pretend to be someone they’re not, so I felt a bit suspicious, thanks to my past experiences with dating apps. We spent the first few days messaging through the app and getting to know each other, which was a refreshing change from the usual ghosting.

That said, I did notice hints of semi-love bombing, though I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid, after all, we remember what happened in Dating Story number 1 So, I decided to keep my wits about me.

I also had some other concerns. In his profile, he mentioned, 'I never go to nightclubs, festivals, or parties,' and told me he doesn’t go out with friends at all. For me, that’s concerning. To be fair, I don’t go to nightclubs much these days either, but I wouldn’t say no to a special occasion. In fact, I’ve been eager to visit Drum Sheds- an old Ikea near me that’s been transformed into a day/night club, to see Craig David DJ.

As the days went by, more red flags began to appear. He was overly eager, despite us not having met in person yet. He started bombarding me with questions, almost like an MI5 interrogator. Had I not kept my wits about me, I might have mistaken his intense interest for genuine attraction and felt flattered.

Then, out of the blue, he told me he was scheduled to have an operation on his bum. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, talk about oversharing. It was, according to him, a simple procedure and not too serious (I’ll spare you the details, but trust me, I heard them all). He wasn’t certain how long the recovery would take. I really didn’t want to keep talking about it, but somehow, the topic kept resurfacing

Despite the odd conversations and oversharing, we continued messaging. One Sunday morning, he texted me and invited me for coffee on Bond Street in London. I struggle with spontaneity, I need a plan, for heaven’s sake. I have responsibilities. Besides, I was nursing a hangover and drowning in laundry, with the teenagers due to return from a weekend at their dad’s. So, I suggested we meet later in the week at King’s Cross.

Nope, he couldn’t do that. He reminded me of his upcoming operation, scheduled for Wednesday, and expressed hope that we could stay in touch while he recovered. He even asked me to be his 'bum recovery buddy,' which apparently involved plenty of FaceTime calls. I still wasn’t sure what to make of all this, was I here for romance or to be his online nurse?

Being the fool nice person that I am, I said, 'Sure,' immediately kicking myself. Why did I agree? I knew I was going to regret this. I was also determined not to fall into an online-only relationship without meeting the guy in person. Remember Dating Story Number 5 ? I do. I vowed never to have a two-year pen (text) pal ever again.

I'm weighing up my options at this stage. Here’s what I know about him so far: he has an upcoming bum operation, doesn’t go to nightclubs, festivals, or parties, never goes out with friends, considers his home his sanctuary, and writes romantic novels in his spare time. On top of that, he’s asked me to be his bum recovery buddy, which could involve multiple FaceTime calls until he recovers.

He also mentioned that he’d like it if I exclusively chatted with him, but he assured me that he would completely understand if I wanted to continue using dating apps to meet other men!!!! Oh, because this is every woman’s dream, right?

One morning, while I was at work, he sent me an overly friendly, very flirty text, as if we were already in a relationship. Odd, but okay. I replied with laughing emojis, not sure what else to do and still a bit baffled by it all. But I need not have been bothered.

An hour later , just when I thought it couldn't get any weirder, he texts me this.  

"I've been thinking about us all day and I think we should end it." End what? “I didn’t envisage a future with someone who has kids.  Your kids are too young (he has a kid a lot younger than mine) and if I get involved with you, that would mean I have to be involved with your kids,  if you didn’t have kids or if your kids were older and did not depend on you, things could have been different, I  hope you understand, I really like you , you are an extraordinary woman” 

So, not only is he an over-sharer, but an overthinker too.

Obviously, I’d dodged a bullet. With my heart racing, I rushed to the dating app to un-match him before he could un-match me. (Yes, I am childish like that.) But he got there first, damn! I was even more fuming now. Without a second thought, I quickly added him to my ever-growing list of blocked blokes on WhatsApp, which now stands at 20.

I met my mate at the pub after work. We unpacked the whole bizarre tomfoolery over a few drinks, and she reassured me that this man should not be in my life. Universe, thanks for the warning. Now, I seriously question if I should just quit this Dating App malarky altogether. Who needs this anyway? Can I go on? I don’t think I can in all honesty. Well readers, you know what came next. Dating App Hell, A Modern Nightmare and Diary of a Single Mums Dating App Ban of which there will be a Part 2.

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My Dream

The night after my chaotic experience, I had the dream to end all dreams, a feature-length nightmare that left me exhausted. I was on an open-decker bus, a kid under each arm, trying to outrun an alien invasion in a burning, apocalyptic London. For four days, the aliens stole everything, including the food and toilet paper (for reasons I'll never understand). Just as suddenly as they came, they left, and the streets burst into dancing while superhuman soldiers with motorised wings flew overhead, vowing to protect us with a giant force field.

When I woke up, I realised that surviving an alien invasion seemed easier than navigating the dating scene. I was emotionally drained and filled with confusion. The aliens leaving felt like freedom from all the wrong situations I kept finding myself in, and those flying soldiers symbolised the resilience and support I desperately needed. I took this as a sign, and I think I’m done. Dating apps, consider this my farewell.

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Next week: The Inner Circle: Dating App Survivor Group. (If I had one, it would look like this.) Oh, and yes, I’ve used my real dating experiences!