7 June 2018

I Met Someone From Tinder Offline For The First Time (Part Two)

 After a week passed with no response, I'd moved on, mostly. Now and again I'd log back into Tinder to check if Henry had messaged me but when there was no new notification I just exited the app and went on with my life or continued swiping with disinterest. I'd become unattached to the outcome with Henry, although let me not kid myself, if I was still logging on hoping to find a message I was still partly invested, maybe just not as much as before.

Anyways, a few nights ago, I logged back in as I had done several times over the last weeks and to my surprise there was a red dot over the message symbol meaning I had a new notification. I'd returned to my least-favourite past time, swiping, so I was expecting it to be a message from a new suitor.  It was Henry. He responded saying: "Aye, look who's popped up again". We kept chatting from the early afternoon to about 11pm that night when I ultimately called it a day. I'd learnt that no boy was worth losing sleep over. I'd learnt that lesson. So, after intense banter once again I wished him a goodnight but that wasn't before he asked whether I would be going out to the local club the next day. I live in a university town and every Wednesday, one particular club is buzzing with students and sports teams. Do you remember who's in a sports team? He is. He told me that he hadn't been planning on going out but that he'd make the effort-potentially.

The next day rolled around and Henry and I hadn't chatted until he sent me a text at around 6pm but it was very brief. If I've learnt anything in my little-experience of romance it's that texting never works. In the past, I texted way too often. I wasn't going to be repeating that mistake. Ironically, as I walked into the club later that night, Henry texted me saying that he was there- and in the VIP section no less, because he's "somewhat of a big name in this town" as he put it. I wasn't going to go and find him and went off to dance with the friends I had arrived with. Eventually he texted me again. By this point, I'd moved to another dance floor, the popular music room also known as the disco room or as it's more affectionately known the "cheese room". This dance floor happens to be my favourite. It's a room where watching university students drunkenly mumble their way through High School Musical songs isn't an odd sight. Henry must have left the VIP section because he texted me a few minutes later telling me that he was in the "cheese room". I appreciated the effort that Henry was going to, to try and meet me. That's something you-know-who hadn't done. He texted again saying he was on the left side of the bar, "by the exit" he added. I chuckled to myself. At least if this meeting had gone horribly wrong I'd have an escape route.
Before I go on I need to add that the only reason I met Henry in person was because Facebook stalking had revealed that we had mutual friends and I'd asked my other friend about him in person. I had done enough of what I'm calling "investigative journalism" to know he was indeed who he said he was and not an axe murderer- although I did ask him to come clean early on if this was the case.

Anyways, back to the escape route. I pulled a friend along and we approached the bar- except it was the right side of a long bar. He was on the left. The bar was lined with drunk people spilling the drinks that they were holding and ordering new ones so I couldn't see the other side of it, but I knew I wasn't going to approach him. I texted him saying he should come to my side of the bar. He didn't. I could see that he's brought a friend along with him. Two against one. "I can handle this", I thought to myself.

"I failed to mention that I'd downed two shots of tequila."

I decided that if he'd left the VIP area which I know is what feels like a mile away from the disco room to come meet me than I could walk the few steps over to meet him. Also, despite my old-fashioned ways, we are in 2018.  He'd seen me upon my approach and waved me to head over. I hugged him and made some sassy comment- because I had to live up to my reputation of being "sassy, classy and a little bad assy" which is what my Tinder bio says. I then turned and in the one second between spinning around and coming face-to-face with Henry's friend I stood contemplating whether I should go in for a hug or a handshake. I opted for a handshake. After introducing himself and probably deciding whether I was good enough for his friend, he left. I guess he approved.

Henry, who had two drinks in hand already, offered to buy me a drink but I refused on account that I had work the next day. I failed to mention that I'd downed two shots of tequila (which my friend was kind enough to make a single and not a double) and a whole bottle of Buck's Fizz which is wine diluted with orange juice...I think. I'll admit that I drank a lot more that night than I probably ever have but I still felt very much in control and at one point even herded all my rogue, alcohol-ravaged friends together but that's another story.
Henry and I got chatting by the bar. He was particularly interested in how he matched up to his photos in real life. Henry was taller than I expected. I knew he was a gym-buff and that shows in person more so than in his photos but that would just flatter his ego more so I didn't feel the need to point that out to him and settled for "You look the same as you do in your photos" which is true. He didn't seem too happy about that. He has short curly strawberry blonde hair. He has a long oval-shaped face and a bright, teeth-filled, cheeky grin.
I reversed the question and asked him how I matched up to my photos. He pointed out that I was "cute" and even "cuter" than I was in my photos. That's a comment he came to repeat several times throughout the night. He was leaning in closely and getting increasingly comfortable with the placement of his hands. Whilst leaning in, convenient in a loud club environment, he would place his hand on and off my waist, never venturing higher or lower.

We chatted a while longer before I told him that I needed to go and find my friends.  Henry invited me to join him at the VIP booth but I opted not to. He didn't seem elated by the idea of going our separate ways but he didn't seem terribly upset either. After making him "work" for my number, I ultimately handed it over. I went off to find my friends who had ended up in the 'curve room'- the grimy R&B dance floor of the three-floored club. I assume he returned to the VIP room.

Imagine my surprise when not even 10 minutes later I received a text from him asking me where I was. "Missing me already?" I responded. Long story short- we met up again.

Part three will be up on Tuesday.

Till next time-

1 comment

  1. Stephhhh you always leave us with such cliff hangers!!! I shall wait for Tuesday for updates then ^_^ I do like how you made him work for your number tho

    Sophie | www.sophiesspot.co.uk


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