Whisks, Wine & Weird Men: Episode 1

Lets start this series strong

With a catfish.

Because of course we are.

Now, I know my cousin once said:

"Sasha, you have to kiss a lot of frogs"

Fair enough.

But at this point I'm starting to think there are only frogs left.

The specific modern day frog species.

And this one?

This one wasn't even a frog.

This one was a full blown swamp creature.

The Profile

So... I matched with this man on a dating app.

His name was Paul.

I won't name the app, because I'm not trying to get sued or traumatised all over again.

But he said he was 44

And to be fair, his photos were good.

You know the type... suited up, wedding vibes, nice smile, looked like he owned a decent aftershave.

No alarm bells.

He seemed fun.

So I thought: why not?

We agreed to meet at a pub.

Perfect. Public. Normal. Safe.

Or so I thought.

The Arrival

I arrived first, wearing my trusty leopard print hat ( because obviously)

And can I just say.... I had made an effort.

You dont just casually pop out like you're going to buy milk.

You prepare.

You pick an outfit.

You do your hair.

You check your teeth.

You make sure you smell nice.

You do the little final mirror glance and think:

Right Sasha... you look gorgeous.

And then you walk into the pub...

and the universe serves you a man who looks nothing like his photos and announces he's twitching.

The effort to reward ratio is criminal.

Anyway.

Back to the story.

He pulled up in a big silver BMW.

And I'm not proud of it... but I did think:

ooooh. That's a strong start.

He got out, we did the polite cheek kiss, and we walked into the pub.

So far, so good.

And then he looked at me and said:

"Well.. you look like your profile pictures. That's rare".

And I just smiled politely..

While thinking:

I'm not sure you do, mate.

But listen, men are terrible at taking photos.

Ninety percent of men online look like they've taken their pictures on a Nokia 3310 in a dark carpark.

So I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Because I am a kind woman.

A fool.... but kind

The Conversation (if you can call it that)

We got a drink, sat down..

and within about 5 minutes, he started talking about sex.

Not in a flirty way.

Not in a "let's see if there's chemistry" way.

In a full on:

"I miss sex. I love sex.I really need sex."

This went on for some time, about 20 minutes I think.

Twenty.

Minutes.

And I'm sat there nodding awkwardly like a hostage.

Eventually I said something along the lines of:

"Should we maybe change the subject and just see if we actually get on first?"

Because call me old fashioned... but I like to know a man's surname before I hear his full sexual manifesto.

The Twitching

Then... it got worse.

Because while I'm trying to steer the conversation onto something normal, he keeps touching his crotch.

And I'm thinking:

Is he unwell? Is he injured? Is he... what is happening?

So I asked him if he was alright.

And he said

"I'm twitching"

Right.

Okay.

Lovely.

Change the subject again, Sasha. Quickly.

The Age Reveal

At some point, I mentioned how much I hate being catfished.

I said how many men lie about their age online and how ridiculous it is.

And he looked at me and went:

"Oh.. by the way. I'm not 44."

Excuse me?

He said:

"I'm 57."

I nearly fell off my chair.

Not because 57 is ancient.

But because he got me there under completely false pretences.

That's what I hate.

It's the lying.

It's the manipulation.

It's the "I'll just trick her into meeting me and hope she's too polite to leave."

And do you know what?

He was right.

Because I was too polite to leave.

His Reasoning (AKA The Audacity)

So I asked him:

"Why did you lie?.

And he said:

"Well, if I put my real age, nobody would match with me."

And honestly?

He's not wrong.

I wouldn't have.

Not because he is older... but because if a man can lie that easily before you've even had a first drink, what exactly are we doing here.?

More Weirdness (Because of Course There Was)

The rest of the drink was like sitting through a strange theatre production.

He kept saying:

"I can't believe you're 51."

And I'm sat there thinking:

I can't believe you're 57.

then, at one point...

he took my hat off my head...

and put it on himself.

Like it was completely normal.

And then prodded my face and said:

"You don't even have jowls."

I didn't know whether to say thank you or call the police.

The Exit

Eventually, we finished our drinks.

I said I had to get back.

We did another polite goodbye.

And he said:

"Message me when you get home."

So I did.

Out of politeness.

Something like:

"Thanks for the drink, good to meet you."

Even tho I was already emotionally drafting my resignation letter from dating.

The Follow Up Messages

He messaged back and asked if I wanted to meet up again.

I didn't reply immediately because I was busy. Also because I was recovering.

And within half an hour, he sent another message saying:

"Do you know what? Don't bother. I'm not chasing anybody. I've never chased a woman in my life and I'm not about to chase you. Thank you and goodbye."

Which was absolutely hilarious...

because I had no intention of meeting up with him again anyway.

And the funniest part of all?

He genuinely behaved like he was the prize.

Sorry... you lied about your age, stole my hat, prodded my face and announced you were twitching...

And you're acting like I should be grateful?!

So I deleted him.

The end.

Or so I thought.

Unfinished Business

About a week later, I went back on the app..

and he had tried to message me again.

So I replied ( because I'm clearly still too polite) and said:

"Are you ok? Why are you messaging me?"

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

What does that even mean?!

Babe, this is not a Netflix thriller.

This is a pub date.

I deleted him immediately.

And That, Ladies, Was Twitching Paul.

So yes.

That was one of my many experiences in the modern dating swamp.

And if you're reading this thinking:

"This cannot be real."

I promise you...

it is.

And the most annoying part?

This isn't even the worst one.

Baking Metaphor (Because it's Me)

In baking, if something smells off ...

you don't keep stirring it.

You throw it away.

Because you can't build anything sweet on dodgy ingredients.

And this man?

This man was expired before I even walked through the door.

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

Stay tuned

🐸