Finally, FINALLY, I met someone I actually liked. We matched on Tinder, his pics were cute,
he looked really like this sexy chef who I had fancied for ages from a TV cooking show. He
worked in marketing, good age, from Dublin and his profile was funny and charming. We
matched and I jumped straight in and asked him if he wanted to meet for a drink. He
acquiesced fairly quickly and days later I found myself in a packed Grogans, toasted
sandwiches wafting under my nose searching the crowd for my would-be-suitor. I found him
tucked in the corner, miraculously he had bagged us a sit and honestly, when I saw him, my
tummy did a little flip. He wasn’t as tall as I would have liked, a bit skinnier than his pics
portrayed, but he had a killer smile that stretched all the way to his eyes, freckles across his
nose and cheeks and just the smallest sexiest bit of stubble across his chin.
‘Hey you made it’ he said kissing me on both cheeks as though we were old friends. He hot
footed it to the bar to retrieve us two pints of Beamish after he convinced me that it was the
best pint in Dublin. I quickly reapplied my lip gloss ad smoothed down my hair. I never ever
get nervous on a date but it had been so long since I actually liked someone at first glance, I
wanted this to work and set about effusing my most charming self.
On his way back from the bar we made eye contact and we stayed connected as he edged
his way through the crowd back to me. This wasn’t just lust, to quote Love Island, we had a
connection, that elusive spark and I was excited for the first time in forever.
Over the next few hours we had what can only be described as a phenomenal first date,
bantering back and forth, make each other laugh, finding a tonne of shared interests, we
even knew some of the same people and had been in the same place at the same time
numerous times and yet had never met…’Till now’ he said holding my gaze. We moved
outside to share a cigarette and he gave me his jacket as we people watched revellers
enjoying their night on Sth William Street. Our flow was interrupted briefly when he got a
message from a friend who had just broken up from his girlfriend and was in need of some
words of support. He asked me what he should say, before writing the sweetest message to
his friend, making me like him even more. For his part he had come out of a 6 year
relationship 8 months earlier, he shared a young son with his partner, I heard a hint of
melancholy in his voice as he told me, unfinished business perhaps, but I pushed away any
doubts that tried to creep into my mind.
As the clocks struck midnight we both knew that we weren’t ready for the date to end. I
suggested a dive bar and a whiskey nightcap and we merrily made our way through the
streets delighted with ourselves at how unexpectedly well the date had gone. We linked
arms growing more familiar with one another. Inside I order us two world class whiskeys as
rock music blasted from the speakers, he had his hands on my waist and sang the lyrics into
my ear.
We found a spot, sat down sipped our drinks, looked at each other wantonly.
‘Ariana’ he whispered ‘Can I kiss you’
‘Thought you’d never ask’ I replied puckering up.
And then….
WORST. KISS. EVER.
I mean, wet, salty, fish like, limp tongue that just sort of swirled around my mouth like it was
looking for something in my teeth. Euugh.
My brain couldn’t quite compute what was happening. No no, it said, try something else. So I
pulled back, put my hand on his face and tried to softly kiss him with my lips only. But his
tongue creeped back in there, more washing machine like now, round and round aimlessly.
I think he felt it too.
The spark just evaporate.

Like someone had unplugged us, turned off the lights and told us to go to bed.
So we did, separately, I hasten to add.
The worst part is I haven’t been able to drink whiskey since. Damn It!