Dating story Number 5) Bumble Dating App. London, Height 6’, Interests; Gym, Work Tarot Card: The Magician (The Breadcrumber & Bencher)

Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

I matched with this guy thinking nothing would come of it, I was right. He was super fit, good looking and his profile pic showed off impressive muscley arms.  He was younger than me and had also indicated he was open to having kids, something I’m unable to support given my age.  Our messages were basic, jokey, and surface level, but he was keen to go on a date, and I was up for it.

We met at a London restaurant he had chosen for dinner and drinks on a Saturday night. I wore a black off-the-shoulder jumper dress with black zip-up boots and curled my hair for the occasion.

When I arrived, he was already there, perched awkwardly on a high stool at a tall table at the back of the restaurant. Why not choose a cosy booth? Plenty were available. He looked handsome, smelled great, and had a crutch propped against the table. The crutch was too obvious to ignore, so I asked about it.

He explained that it was due to a knee injury from the gym. I didn't think much more of it as the date progressed smoothly. He was intelligent, funny, and likeable. He shared that he came from a conservative, wealthy background and grew up with chauffeurs. Despite this, his parents made him walk over an hour to school each day, which he said was character-building.

He bragged about dating numerous model-type women, which left me wondering why he was out with me if they were his type. He recounted a story about a third date with a stunning model who couldn't stop texting her ex. When he asked her to put her phone away, she took it to the restroom to continue her conversation in private.

Furious at her rudeness, he walked out, leaving her alone in the restaurant. She kept calling him afterwards, and he eventually blocked her on all platforms. As he finished his tale, I glanced nervously at my iPhone on the table, praying it wouldn’t ping.

We discovered a shared love for modern spiritual teachers, such as Eckhart Tolle and Jay Shetty, and both meditate. We seemed to have a lot in common. As the night progressed, I had a couple of glasses of wine while he was doing Dry January, which I thought was very disciplined. I ordered a vegetarian meal, and he did the same, which impressed me since he wasn’t a vegetarian. After four hours of an enjoyable date, he asked the waitress for the bill. I offered to pay half and took my purse from my bag.

Panic set in as I watched him scrutinise the bill, line by line. Was he calculating how much each of us owed, especially since I had two glasses of wine? Please, God, don’t let this be so. Thankfully, we split the bill without a word, though the whole situation felt awkward. Composing myself, I got ready to leave. As we stood up, he grabbed his crutch and ushered me ahead of him. Nice, old-school manners, or so I thought.

Standing in the street, we both ordered Ubers. After 25 minutes, neither Uber had arrived. Odd! I decided to take the tube home and said my goodbyes, while he stayed in the same spot. I was buzzing with excitement as I walked back to the tube station.

I heard from him the next day and the day after that. Once, he called me while I was at the pub and asked to meet up spontaneously, but I couldn’t as I was already out. We continued with phone calls, FaceTimes, and texts, planning our second date.

Everything seemed bright and breezy; we mostly chatted nonsense and exchanged jokey banter. However, I started to feel suspicious since I wasn't learning anything meaningful about him. Sometimes, I wouldn’t hear from him for a week, and then I’d get a text asking how I was. When I asked what he’d been up to, he’d casually mention, “Oh, I just got back from Vietnam” or “I just returned from Thailand.” Incredible, if true, but strange that he never mentioned these trips during our FaceTimes.

Every time he FaceTimed, he would be sitting on a stool in his front room. I scanned the walls behind him for clues, but there was nothing, except for a black-framed photo I could never make out. I wondered if he was married or had a partner; something felt off.

The second date was on a Saturday night at another venue he chose, near the first one. I wanted my safe space in North London, but he joked and said no. I arrived early and waited at the bar for him to arrive. I ordered a large glass of wine. Wine in hand, I started chatting to the bar staff when I saw him peeking in through the window. He didn’t come in and then he disappeared.

Twenty-five minutes later, he reappeared, opened the door, and brushed his hair back with one hand while using the other to support himself with his crutch. As he walked in, I noticed his limp was quite pronounced, more like a permanent limp than a temporary gym injury.

Very strange! I felt gutted that he didn’t feel comfortable telling me the truth. Suddenly, the high stools and bar tables made perfect sense; I doubted he could bend his leg enough to sit on a regular chair. Trying to play it cool, I said, “Oh, you’re still using the crutch?” while cringing internally, it was too obvious to ignore. He replied, “Yes, I need a few more operations,” and that was the last we ever spoke of it.

The second date was fantastic, fun, flirty, the whole shebang. I figured he’d eventually open up about his disability. He didn’t. For the next two years, he texted me every other day, but we never ever met in person again.

Weird and confusing, right? At first, I kept asking, “When are we going to meet up again?” He’d always reply, “Soon, let’s arrange it.” But, surprise, surprise, nothing was ever arranged. After a couple months, I threw in the towel and stopped asking.

His texts were always surface level. I still didn’t know much about him; I couldn't even tell you what he did for a living, except that he mainly worked from home. He flirted with me every now and then, and I really couldn’t see the point of it all. I jokingly called him my favourite pen pal, but he never embraced the title. Eventually, he became my pointless pen pal who just got on my nerves.

One afternoon, he sent me photos from a beautiful lake in Surrey, claiming he was there alone. I didn’t buy it because I spotted a wine glass next to his pint in the photo. I had to zoom in like a detective. He invited me to join him but said he’d only be there for another 40 minutes, so I had to be quick.

It was impossible since I don’t drive and was in H&M shopping with my daughter, which he knew. The journey alone would have taken me two and a half hours by train or an hour by car. It felt like a lame attempt to keep me interested, but it just made me roll my eyes even harder.

Ignoring his texts sometimes led to, "Are you ignoring me?" or "Aren’t you talking to me?" I’d reply, not wanting to be mean, but I felt done and wanted him to disappear from the face of the Earth. Friends told me to block him, but I didn’t. I don’t know why; I guess I felt guilty. Again, I don’t know why.

Two Valentine’s Days in a row, he sent me the same video of a cartoon dog pulling out clothes from a laundry basket and throwing them all along the hallway to the bedroom. At first, you think it's two adults throwing off their clothes, ready to jump into bed. He must have forgotten he already sent this to me.

By year two, I dreaded his texts. Friends and I joked about what he was playing at, was he *Breadcrumbing or *Benching me? Or both, you name it. On New Year’s Day, I decided enough was enough. I couldn’t bear the thought of going into year three with him. I blocked him and felt relieved. He texted a few days later via SMS, Damn! I forgot about that, asking why I’d blocked him.

I replied, “I don’t see the point of it all, please don’t take it personally. I can’t go into year three of this nothingness.” He didn’t reply, thank goodness. To date, he remains one of my oddest dating experiences. He even tried to re-match with me again on the app (twice), but I swiftly swiped left.

Reflecting on this experience, I wondered why I ignored the red flags. Why did I stick around with someone who clearly wasn’t adding any value to my life? It’s crucial to prioritise meaningful connections over surface-level interactions and recognise when you’re being strung along with empty promises and vague conversations.

Setting clear boundaries is essential, my therapist, that I found after dating number 1)  always told me that, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about enforcing them, something I definitely struggle with.

After two years of vague texts and mysterious behaviour, I finally had enough. Blocking him felt like finally escaping a crowded beach and finding a peaceful stretch of sea and sand, suddenly, I was basking in the sun of freedom with no more annoying interruptions! It was time to cut the cord and move on. At last, I was free to start focusing on real, fulfilling relationships! (Or so I hoped)……

*Breadcrumbing: When he has no intentions of taking things further, but he likes attention, so he flirts here or there, sends texts to keep you interested, knowing damn well he’s staying single. (Urban Dictionary)

*Benching: When you start dating someone you think is nice and has potential, but you are not crazy about them. You don’t know whether to keep dating them or move on to the next one. This is where benching happens. Instead of going for either of the above, you put your date in your mental maybe folder and bench them, so you date around to see what else is out there. (Urban Dictionary)

Next Week Dating Story Number 6, The Tale of the Knight of Wands. Charming but flaky; my rollercoaster of fun and frustration, mismatched expectations, and a quest for real connection!