12 Dates in 12 Months: January Boy

You are officially reading the 2nd instalment of my dating series, dear reader. Please enjoy.

For all the reasons outlined in my previous blog post (inexperience, fear of intimacy etc.) I knew I had to find a reason to put myself out there and then continue to put myself out there even when the last date had me considering religion. So, I decided on this ‘12 dates in 12 months,’ and honestly, it felt overwhelming. It felt like diving into the unknown because that’s kind of what it was for me really. This was the first time I would actually be somewhat proactive in my dating life (debatable as to whether it was a dating life up until that point).

Now, luckily, I didn’t need to go into this alone. I had one of my best friends by my side spurring me on to make bad decisions, be brave, and act recklessly. I will say that recklessness doesn’t exactly come naturally to me. Kissing on the first date is about as reckless as I get. I am no maneater, nor am I a girlie who has ever in her life possessed what the kids call a ‘roster.’ I may be a bit careless with my time management, you may consider the way I split my lights and darks for washing a bit reckless, but I am not reckless in romance by any means.

A part of me almost wants to be that girl. Someone who is getting drunk and texting them or running into two guys she’s getting with on the one night out. However, I can’t flirt over text, I don’t get with strangers at the clurb, and I can’t respond to a ‘hey.’ And I’ll have you know that none of that has anything to do with pride or standards, I’ve just never been able to do the above things. Like what do you say back to a ‘hey.’ I need paragraphs. I need something to respond to. And God knows locking eyes on the dance floor has never been my specialty. All of this is a roundabout way of saying that I had a friend along the way just to keep me in check if nothing else. It wasn’t about supporting bad decisions, but ensuring that I was still going ahead with it all and getting out of my comfort zone. If one of us fell off the wagon the other was there to tell them to get back out there, and I think I needed that. It was just a little extra push I guess.

Well, in truth I think I had one other thing that made me able to take part in this challenge. And that was my January date. I understand that may not make sense now, but please bear with, we get there in the end somehow. So, my January date was what is known, at least colloquially, as a date found ‘in the wild’ (at a bus stop to be specific). A friend of my best friend’s boyfriend (say that three times fast), it seemed perfect. I remember my friend seeing him sitting on the ground on Dame street. He jumped up to greet us and then we just stood there chatting to him for quite a while. The first thing I noticed about him was his height to be honest (I love a tall man). I also just thought he seemed nice, he had a warm smile and I felt comfortable in his presence. He even entertained our mad tipsy blabbering and made us laugh a bit. He got on his bus and as we strolled off, my friend asked me if I found him attractive. Spurred on by the drink and excitement I followed him on instagram…at around three in the morning (very smooth). My friend then got her boyfriend to ask if he was interested, and what do you know, he was. I want to have it on record that she did all of this without my permission. She is one of the craziest bitches I know. She makes me think of that one John Mulaney line that goes ‘my wife is a bitch and I like her so much’ (need I say more).

He eventually reached out to me on instagram and we set up the first date. I attended this date with exactly no food in my system because I was so anxious, which obviously meant that three drinks got me black out (guys love a cheap date right?). We had a laugh. My friend told me he liked movies, which simply was not true (my one topic of conversation gone). This also made us chuckle to be fair. He told me his leaving cert’ points and asked me mine which was a red flag I happily ignored. My phone died and I didn’t seem to care. I felt safe…and also quite drunk. I stole his jacket on our walk home (apparently I’m a pick-me now), and I got (read: forced) him to measure his wing span against a random wall on the walk back. At the end of the date, he dropped me back to my friend's flat like a child being left at the school gate (she lived on our college campus at the time which really added to the whole school drop-off feeling). It was a five hour date that felt like it flew by. It was weird and nice, and made me feel like for the first time I got to experience romance like everyone else.

I got a text from him the next day at twelve o’clock (I obviously wanted to keel over with anticipation). We kept chatting a lot. We organised a second date. At some point I got drunk and whilst organising the second date, he said it was difficult to get a late bus. My solution was that he could stay at mine (easy, problem solved). I figured it may be coming on strong but I got the backing of my friends and he was a straight man after all…I was grossly mistaken. He was so shaken by the suggestion that he didn’t respond for a full twenty-four hours (the final straw for future reference). Eventually, he was able to get over the horror of such a baffling and inappropriate suggestion. We then decided we would see the movie Poor Things… It was his suggestion. However, he would later say that it was only because I had mentioned the cinema, and my excitement for that movie’s release. If only I was a mind reader and could’ve deduced that when he said cinema he meant anywhere but the cinema. Alas, we ended up watching a movie that would be a weird enough choice for a friends’ movie night. I hadn’t even kissed the boy and yet there we were looking up at Emma Stone’s tits and full bush. Oddly enough, this still led to a third date…and boy was it a doozy.

So, we had organised this date for a thursday. I was going to drive up from Cork (I was down visiting the fam’ prior), and we were going to go on a fabulous date that would cement our status as a couple…and well, it definitely didn’t happen like that. For one, I actually didn’t make the date at all that day. Instead I actually just crashed and totaled my car on the side of the M7, and chipped half my tooth off on a diet coke can (thank god I went for the low sugar version. At the very least, I’d be looking skinty in the coffin).

Luckily, my knight in shining armour (a fine Cork man of course) came to my rescue. He called the tow truck, bought me food, talked to my distraught mother and then drove me from Kildare all the way back to my flat (don’t get excited ladies, he’s thirty and taken). Amongst all the calling loved ones to update them and let them know I was alive, I had to call up the guy I had gone on two dates with to tell him that I just got in a car crash…a unique experience to say the least. His first question was ‘I assume that means the date isn’t happening tonight?’ (no flies on this lad, eh). I was sitting in my good friend Cillian’s car (the aforementioned random cork man) with the nerve of my tooth exposed, still finding little enamel flakes lodged in my permanent retainer. You could say I was in a state of shock and this boy was too concerned with whether he was getting the bus into town or just heading straight home from college. I’m glad he had his priorities straight though. Those leap cards aren’t what they used to be etc.

Now, in all seriousness, I can say that crashing my car really shook me up. I was mortified that I had been so careless, I felt ashamed for making my parents so worried, and also I looked butt ugly with the fucking cracked tooth. The date was one of the only things from that day that could be salvaged. We decided to go to an arcade. Turns out I hate arcade games. I know that now at least. We played games, we chatted and things felt…stilted. I remember playing about two rounds of Dance Dance Revolution with the boy, and stepping off to sit down and chat. I saw this man full-on sweat from the brow. I’m not talking moist clammy skin, I’m talking individual beads of sweat crawling down his face. It was substantial. And he didn’t even go to wipe it. He just let it fall like he was the underdog character in a boxing movie. And look, I’m in no position to judge people for their fitness levels, but I just didn’t expect any form of arcade game to demand that much exertion from an individual. I then offered him some of the brownie I was eating and he declined (the health nut that he is).

Eventually, the evening came to an end. I walked him to his bus. I’d like to say that I find all the gender based rules about dating somewhat archaic. However, it’s still scarier for me to walk home alone than him. It also feels imperative to note that he could’ve gotten that same bus from a bus stop closer to my house. Alas, we stood at his bus stop, and I asked the age old question…’what are we?’ It may seem a bit soon for these kinds of questions, but we were on our third date and hadn’t kissed. At that point we were basically just strangers doing activities in tandem. And, I did find out that that was pretty much the case. He basically didn’t want to see me anymore and seemingly went on this date out of a warped sense of obligation (???). And of course being the lovely lad he was he basically planned it so that right after he said this, his bus arrived for him to make a swift escape. I was left a week out from an actual car crash, watching the boy I just recently saw sweat profusely from the brow after an arcade game, break up with me and then just ride off into the sunset. I felt my last shred of dignity just sort of flop dead on to the ground like a fish laid out on the ice in Dunnes…and then I still had to walk home (a brutal death was looking more and more appealing).

Well technically, I walked to my friend’s accommodation (the one that set the whole thing up). I just sort of sat on her spare bed in shock. Look, I’ve been told several times that I seem like the kind of person who will meet someone and just stay with them for life and I can now safely say that I really internalised that shit. So much so that I thought I was imagining a future with a boy who wouldn’t walk me home, or kiss me (either gay or afraid of women…or afraid of me???)

Safe to say that my friend felt quite bad about how it all went down. She felt bad for even introducing me to him in the first place. And I certainly felt shitty about the whole thing for a bit. I mean anybody would, it’s not exactly nice to be rejected. However, as bad as it was, it gave me courage to go on and date again. Beforehand, dating more consistently felt like a far off idea. This experience made me realise that I could hold conversations, that I could be charismatic and charming, and that someone could find me attractive (briefly at least). I certainly don’t believe that what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. The car accident just sucked and now my car insurance premium next year will leave me a financial invalid. In the case of my first real experience of dating though, there are some weird squint-your-eyes, tilt-your-head kind of positives to take away.

So, thank you January boy, I hope 2024 brought you growth and maturity.

P.S. I thought it was really smooth when you ignored me greeting you less than a foot away from your face at the Hozier concert. Don’t worry. Everybody thought you played it really chill, though. I mean it obviously would’ve been way too weird to just say hi back.