INTRODUCTION/ Dating Story 1) The Love Bomber: Tarot Card the Devil

The Dating Diaries

Jul 12, 2024

a bunch of red hearts on a black background — Photo by Kostiantyn Li on Unsplash

THE DATING DIARIES

It was my first visit to the Water Gypsy on the Regents Canal, and honestly, I had no clue what to expect. Her online reviews were good, and I was hoping for a legit tarot card reading. Am I a believer? Who knows. But I’m guilty of binge-watching ‘Wendy’s Tarot’ on YouTube and owning a set of Rider Waite Tarot cards, so why not make a fun afternoon out of it?

As I approached the Water Gypsy’s narrowboat she emerged, looking all ethereal and mermaid like. Definitely not like her photo. “Can you climb up”? she asked, pointing to a rickety old wooden ladder painted white. "Uh, sure," I said, feeling a mix of horror and disbelief. I started climbing, praying that the ladder wouldn’t snap and send me tumbling into the murky water below.

Miraculously, I made it to the top and shuffled along the cabin roof, only to find that I had to crawl on all fours to get into the tiny room where the reading would take place. The Water Gypsy clearly didn’t check if I had any physical disabilities before booking. I don’t, but my right hip is a bit dodgy.

Bent in half, I squeezed into the cabin and plopped onto a makeshift mini sofa. All crunched up, my ribs felt twisted, and my head was touching the ceiling. It was cramped and cosy, with a quirky charm that set the perfect stage for a tarot reading. As she prepared the cards, I couldn't help but mentally redecorate her space. I imagined it with wall hangings of silks and tapestries, crystals of amethysts, rose and quartz, ornaments of black cats with emerald eyes, pictures of witches on broomsticks, little stars and twinkle lights on the little shelves next to my head, I probably would have placed a crystal ball in the corner just for decoration.

I listened to the calming music that was playing in the background, and I smelled the incense that was burning, sandalwood if I’m not mistaken. I inhaled the smoke accidently to the back of my lungs, it stung a little and I coughed to clear my throat. Every now and then I felt a gentle sway as ripples of water lapped up against the narrowboat from passing vessels and my stomach flipped.

I was never good at sea. As a kid, I was the one throwing up over the side of the ferry on family day trips to France. As I got older, I was the person turning green on the all-you-can-eat-and-drink party boat trips in Greece or Cyprus, never quite managing to eat or drink anything. It was hot in there, I felt sick, the half mini door shut behind me.

The Reading

Finally, she handed me the cards to shuffle. My heart pounded as I passed them back, desperate to know: Will I meet someone? She laid out the cards, and my jaw hit the floor. Page of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Cups, King of Swords, The Devil, The Hermit, King of Cups, Knight of Cups, Page of Swords, Page of Pentacles – a veritable parade of men. The Water Gypsy was just as shocked. She started analysing the spread, while I pondered if this was a snapshot of my dating history. Six years of navigating the chaotic world of dating apps had made me an expert in Ghosting, Breadcrumbing, Paper Clipping, Love Bombing, Cookie Jarring, Benching, Zombieing, and Caspering , terms I didn’t even know existed before my single life.

The Water Gypsy predicted I'd meet someone within the year, and that it would be swift and harmonious. Everything would fall into place, and I’d be happy. Though I took her words with a pinch of salt, there's no denying that I long to meet someone who has my back, someone to join me on road trips and hikes, someone to snuggle up with for movie nights, someone to share dinners with, and simply, someone to enjoy all the joys of being a couple. Unfortunately, I've lost all hope.

When the Water Gypsy mentioned a side hustle in writing, I knew it was a sign. Just the day before, a colleague had urged me to document my dating misadventures. Friends had been saying the same for years.

So here I am, sharing my journey with you. From the bizarre to the hilarious, from the awkward to the sad , welcome to my chaotic world of modern dating. Everything I write is based on my true experiences from my perspective. However, some names and details have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent!

Let's start with The Devil, peeking out next to the Knight of Wands, trying to hide, sticking out like a sore bent thumb.

Dating story Number 1, Bumble Dating App. Swindon, Height 6’4, Interests; Walking, Eating

Tarot Card: The Devil (The Love Bomber)

I meet the Devil during the Covid Pandemic in 2020, so the first three months of our relationship was online. It was a strange experience, but the connection was instant. The Devil seemed kind, caring, confident and funny. Our first date was a virtual affair, fancy clothes, cheese boards, and a bottle of red wine. We spoke for hours via video call.

Every morning, I received a photo of The Devil in bed holding a mug of tea and we laughed at his weird bent thumb in every picture. He sent me 10-15 text messages per day and often called or FaceTimed me. He was so enthusiastic about the relationship and adored me. I felt like the centre of his universe. He couldn’t wait to meet me, and I felt the same.

When my Earphones broke, he offered to buy me a new pair. I don’t know why I thought he was going to buy me Apple Airpods- maybe because he had a pair himself but the next day, Amazon delivered a £4 pair of wireless earphones that never quite worked. I could never get sound in both ears at the same time, and they crackled like a bowl of Rice Krispies.

Not long after that I received a £6 imitation smart watch via Amazon. It didn’t even last a month. Meanwhile, he wore the latest Apple Watch. Still, it was the thought that counts, right?

Meanwhile I sent, books for his son, “In the Night Kitchen” and “Where the Wild Things are” by Maurice Sendak. I sent the Devil aftershave, a China teacup with a box of Earl Grey tea, (his favourite), designer beanie hats and a jumper from Next.

After three months of dating The Devil online, clapping for the NHS, banging pots and pans out the front door, attending Zoom parties, being shocked at the loo roll raids, walking over to a hatch in my local pub to buy a takeaway roast dinner and a bottle wine, my kids drawing rainbows and putting them in the windows, Boris announced that those in a relationships living outside the covid travel zone were allowed to see each other. I jumped on the first train to Swindon.

We were getting to know each other and would spend hours talking about our lives. He had been engaged four times, married twice but every single woman in his life had cheated on him. He questioned himself and the part, he played in all his failed relationships. I missed all the red flags; the manipulation was that good.

It wasn’t long before he introduced me to his family, they only lived in the caravan next door. During a FaceTime, I once asked him why his head was touching the ceiling, but he wouldn’t tell me. Now I know why! He even set up a lunch date with his mum. She made me a cheese and salad sandwich, which I ate on my lap in her caravan, whilst she told me about the devil as a child.

It wasn’t long before the Devil arranged for the three of us to have tattoos. We discussed in detail what we were going to have: a Butterfly for her, finger tattoos for me, and a meaningful symbol for him. We were full of excitement as The Devil made the booking at his local tattoo parlour. (We split up before the appointment, thankfully, and I saw on social media his new girlfriend had taken my place).

It wasn’t long before I was introduced to his child, I protested, thinking it was too early in the relationship, but he was very clever in how he manipulated the situation. The following week, I did meet The Devils child.

Soon cafes and pubs were allowed to open, and we excitedly went to a tearoom with a pottery shop attached. I bought him a wooden spoon shaped like a love heart to use when making my scrambled eggs in the morning, and a beautiful teacup for myself. At the food counter, he started to moan about the prices, but he was so hungry. He refused to pay £6 for a large slice of pie, which I thought was a bargain. “Don’t worry I’ll pay”, I said, not wanting him to faint as he was practically starving himself so as not to put on the six stone he had recently lost.

Happily, he grabbed the pie and put it on the tray I was holding, mouth salivating. Not only did he grab the pie but a cheese and salad roll, a scone with jam and cream, a pot of tea and to top it off an orange juice. I was cursing inside as I carried the tray to the table outside.

It wasn’t long before he met my children, and we all had a mini get away together to a seaside town just outside London. During that trip I became suspicious as he kept disappearing, leaving me with his child. Within the first five minutes of our holiday, his child punched my daughter in the stomach, he was age 6 in age 12 clothes so the punch hurt. This was a child who was not easy to look after, a child who would run away at every opportunity, a child who fell over his own shoe laces every 2 minutes. I felt exhausted.

During the getaway, the Devil’s usual tightness became unbearable, and I got fed up with paying for all the food and drinks. “The next round is on you” I snapped as I stormed off to the ladies. On my return, I heard him putting the round of drinks on his room number, which was linked to my room and my credit card, and he knew this. I was getting put off The Devil but the Love Bombing continued, and its psychological impact was immense.

Things started to get miserable, and I started to challenge The Devil on his behaviours. His morals and ethics did not match mine and his tightness was getting me down. He didn’t like me challenging him and arguments ensued. It was exhausting.

I could sense the long Eight months of Love Bombing coming to an end as there was a sudden coldness and withdrawal from him. The phone calls, texts, FaceTime’s all stopped, as did the photos and visits to Swindon. He refused to come and stay in London, even though I had booked a hotel and bought theatre tickets to see ‘Everybody’s talking about Jamie’.

I could not believe this new nonchalant attitude towards me. I hated him so much and myself for being such an idiot. All our plans for the future, all the broken promises all disappearing as I watched the Devil delete my photos one by one from his Instagram and Facebook accounts as he replaced me with another unlucky soul being sucked in to The Devil’s lair.

After this relationship, I did some research to try and make sense of it all. Surprisingly, it was my 80-year-old mum who suggested that I had been Love Bombed, having read an article about it. I now realise his behaviour was classic Love Bombing, aimed at making me feel secure and dependent while creating intense feelings of attachment towards him.

I discovered that Love Bombers are usually narcissists. They lure you into a false sense of security, then abruptly drop you and move on to their next victim. This is exactly what he did to me and probably to countless women before and after me. Watch out for early warning signs, such as an immediate intense interest in your life, bombarding you with texts, calls, and words of affection, pressuring you to meet their family and children very early in the relationship, and giving gifts, even if they’re as cheap as the ones I received.

I walked away broken hearted, completely confused, and in therapy for the first time in my life.

I recently discovered that the Devil has married again! (Not to the women who took my Tattoo appointment). I didn’t feel anything as I looked at the wedding photos. They looked blissfully happy together. I noticed he had put a lot of weight on, and I smiled to myself, knowing he would hate that.

Reflecting on the whole experience, I realised that the Devil had taught me some lessons. First, if a man’s head is touching the ceiling during a FaceTime call, ask more questions. Second, if someone offers you a gift, don’t expect AirPods unless they explicitly say "AirPods." And third, if he lives in a caravan next door to his mother, just run. Don’t walk. Run.

Lastly, One evening, while sipping a glass of wine and scrolling through social media, I came across a meme that perfectly summed up my experience: “If he treats you like a queen, makes you laugh, and buys you thoughtful gifts, he’s probably love bombing you. If he treats you like a queen, makes you laugh, but buys you £4 earphones, he’s definitely a devil in disguise.”