Whisks, Wine & Weird Men: Episode 2

Let me start by saying this:

Rory seemed lovely.

And that's what makes this story even more upsetting.

Because modern dating is a swamp... and sometimes the frogs arrive well dressed, good looking, and emotionally intelligent.

... and then still manage to completely ruin your will to live.

The Pub Date

I met Rory on a dating app. He was 35.

We arranged to meet in a cosy pub, the kind with a proper fire and the warm glow that makes you think:

Oh...this feels promising.

We sat by the fire, chatted for hours, and honestly?

It was easy.

He was genuinely interested in my life, asked good questions, seemed empathetic, could hold a conversation.

And he was a good kisser too.

Which I discovered on the way out.

So far?

Rory was ticking boxes.

The Bristol Invitation

A few weeks later, Rory invited me to stay at his house in Bristol.

He wanted to take me to his favourite restaurant.

And I thought:

This is nice.

He's making an effort.

He's planned something.

He's dressed well, dark hair, attractive, confident...

This could actually be...good.

Maybe the swamp is drying up.

Maybe I've found a normal man.

Spoiler alert.

I had not.

The House Tour (Slightly Odd, But Fine)

I arrived at his house one evening.

Three storeys.

Clean and tidy.

A little cold and damp... but nothing awful.

The only slightly strange thing was he gave me a full tour of the house.

Every room.

Like he was selling it.

Which I found a little odd...

but also fine.

Some people are just proud of their home.

The Downstairs Loo

Then, just before we left for dinner, I said:

"Can I just use your bathroom?"

And Rory said:

"Use the downstairs loo"

So I went in...

Lifted the toilet lid...

...and I froze.

Because it was full.

And when I say full...

I mean FULL.

It looked like the toilet had lost a battle... and the toilet roll had been taken down with it.

It was.... sitting there.

Like a display.

Like an exhibit.

Like an art installation titled:

"Welcome to Bristol"

Immediate ick.

Immediate trauma.

Immediate regret.

I didn't say anything because I was too shocked.

I just stood there thinking:

"Right, Okay. We move on. We pretend we didn't see that.

Because what are you supposed to do?

Walk out and say:

"Rory...love...why is your toilet holding a hostage?"

Dinner (Great Food, Great Vibe... Terrible Table Manners)

Anyway, we went out for dinner.

And to be fair, the restaurant was great.

Lovely vibe, amazing food, brilliant cocktails.

But...

I like a man who can eat properly.

Not someone who crams as much food into their mouth as physically possible...

then has to cover their mouth so it doesn't all fall out.

It was giving...

hungry hamster.

Or a man who hasn't eaten since 2007.

Back To The House

After dinner we went for more cocktails, then went back to his place.

I did not go back into the downstairs loo.

Absolutely not.

I avoided that room like it was haunted.

And Then... It Got Worse

We went to bed.

Now, Rory turned out to be.... very hairy.

Everywhere.

And yes... he also had a very impressive situation, which initially felt like a win.

But then...

I'll spare you the details... but I experienced a full body shut down. Let's just say the downstairs loo suddenly felt..... relevant.

Rory the Clam & The Possessed Spaniel

It was late.

We'd both been drinking.

So of course I stayed.

This is why women fake emergencies and climb out of bathroom windows

Did I do that?

No.

Because apparently I don't have survival instincts.

I have manners.

Did I sleep?

No.

Because Rory slept like a clam.

Arms, legs. Wrapped around me.

Like I was being restrained.

And every time I drifted off, he'd jolt....

which made his completely mental spaniel jump onto the bed...

and onto me.

Over and over again.

So there I was...

Pinned down by Rory...

being attacked by a possessed spaniel...

thinking:

This is it. This is how I die. In Bristol. Under a hairy man and a dog with issues.

The Morning After (The Replay Request)

The next morning, Rory wanted a replay.

I was in absolutely no state for that.

No.

he then suggested breakfast at his other favourite place.

So we went.

Because apparently I make excellent life choices.

On the way there... it suddenly hit me.

Breakfast.

I was going to have to sit opposite Rory...

and watch him eat.

Again.

As if the night before hadn't already emotionally finished me off.

I am too polite for my own good.

It was awkward.

I can't lie.

Because when you've witnessed certain things, it's hard to sit across the table pretending you're just two normal people discussing croissants.

The Exit

And then I left.

And I never saw Rory again.

I sent a polite British text:

"Thanks for a great night"

(with a smiley face that didn't match the emotional damage.)

And that was that.

The Lesson

Rory taught me something important:

Sometimes men can be attractive, charming, interesting...

and still be absolutely unfit for human interaction.

Also..

Never trust a downstairs loo.

Anyway... Stay Tuned

Because somewhere amongst all these frogs...

there was one guy who ticked every box.. and still managed to break my brain.

And annoyingly..

he's the reason I'm even writing this series.

But that, my friends..

is a story for another day.

Next time: another frog.
Possibly worse.
Definitely weirder.

Stay tuned.🐸