Inside the Mind of a Serial Dater. (NSFW)

London, 2019. Everyone dates, right? But usually, people are looking for love, or a one-night stand, or can go on a date every-other-Sunday. To get to how I am now a full blown addict to dating, I need you to understand why I’m now like this.

Some people are shy to the idea, others wait weeks to make sure they like the person enough to give them a whole TWO HOURS of their lives, imagine that! All those wasted weeks, for one date that will probably fizzle out after less time than it took to have the date in the first place.

I moved to London heartbroken and desperate to enjoy the single life. I’m 23, and hadn’t been single since my first boyfriend 8 years previously.

Figuring out where to start? Tinder seemed too young, too ‘uncool’ for this new version of me. I was sat with my best friend on a bus when she introduced me to Hinge.

Within a minute I had close to 20 likes, and the games began.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was a newborn in the world of city dating. I still believed that after two or three attempts I’d fall in love. It was all I knew and all I was good at.

My housemates couldn’t keep up. We were nicknaming men after where in London they were from, or what job they had, sometimes even the same boy’s name but with the number of order after. I had 10+ chats open on my phone at any one time, and I was dating at least once a day, sometimes I left one date and went straight to another. I really believed if I told myself I was wanted, I’d feel like I mattered to a man again.

WRONG.

Enter ‘Fulham’. Took me for coffee one warm afternoon, we smoked and drank like we were in a fucking Parisian movie. He walked me to my uber and I honestly thought this was the start of the last relationship of my life. Later that week he invited me over for dinner, no one’s ever cooked for me before. How civilised, how bloody romantic, I thought.

You’ve guessed it. You get invited to a guys house and no matter how much you laugh and talk, there’s always, ALWAYS, going to be the final question of the evening: ‘Shall we take this to bed?’.

I should have said no, but it was the second date, we had talked about families, jobs, relationships, we had laughed over absolutely nothing at all and I fancied the fuck out of him.

Next morning, he literally pushed me away, didn’t look me in the eye and once we were out the door he said he had to rush off to work and whoosh. Gone.

So, I walked to the same coffee place we had had our first date, met a wonderful family and drank a coffee wilfully staring at my phone. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person? Maybe he genuinely didn’t have time to look at his phone before work?

The whole day passed, I had managed to find out where the tube station was and head home. Eventually I realised I had left my phone charger at his, and thought I really didn’t want to buy a new one, so I messaged him around 7pm letting him know, and apologising for leaving something at his house. His reply? ‘Looks like my roommate has a spare now’.

I should have got that, right? It should have hit me then, that I had been used and I needed to block his number ASAP. Oh no, I still didn’t get it. Two days passed, and I actually asked him what was up. Like, he had told me he wanted to see me again. I believed him. I don’t remember his whole reply, but it’s the same generic text that’s sent a million times a day all over the world. ‘Blah blah, blah blah, let’s call it a day’.

I learnt a lot at this point, but not enough to stop when ‘The Hot One’ entered my life shortly after. THO knew he was gorgeous, he was a total prick, but for six weeks I let myself pretend he cared about me and cooked him dinner most nights. He stayed over twice, in six weeks. Twice. He’d come over from work, eat the food I’d cooked, talk to my housemate about how to pull women, shag me, then leave. And I kept opening the door.

I was dating other people still, I never got bored of that, but because this guy was so incredibly gorgeous (the sort of man that got me death glares on the rare occasions we were out in public), I kept him around. He didn’t publicly touch me, kiss me, barely spoke to me, but whenever I got a message from him I melted. He kept me in a game of cat and mouse until I was told my mum was sick. Telling THO was a mistake, usually people feel bonded to you when you share problems with them, but I instantly knew this had made me damaged goods. I already felt too high maintenance (even though I never asked for anything), I realised the guy was a belled. That, combined with flirting with other women in front of me, leaving me on a night out to get high with a stranger elsewhere in London, borrowing money every other day, meant I eventually grew bored of feeling like shit, and when he realised I wasn’t going to offer him any more than a one-worded reply he thankfully cut the whole thing off with the same generic ‘blah blah, you’re a great girl, blah blah, let’s call it a day…’.

Now, we’re two months into my London dating life here. I have learned the general drill: men here believe the grass is always greener elsewhere, both these men had actually said so themselves. When I replied ‘the grass is greener where you water it’, they had both nodded slightly and said ‘I suppose I never thought of it like that’. Of course not.

So, I figured, if it was so easy for them to turn off their emotions and date all around the city, I would do the same.

The general idea is to have 4 on the go simultaneously, two on Hinge and two on WhatsApp, date the favourite one on WhatsApp then after I’ve filtered into one of the following categories we either keep him around for a bit or we immediately let the messages filter out and bring forward the next one from Hinge, then check my likes for a replacement.

The categories are (remember these are the ones who actually make it to a date. I have over 100 boys in three months who I have initially found attractive but have not made it this far) Again: this is not big-headed, this is easy as hell for anyone who actually wants to date like a madman in a city this crowded with people:

Dull AF: the boys who have good chat, then you meet them and you literally HAVE to get drunk to have a good time. The only option after half an hour of shite conversation and pretending it’s going to work is to get pissed, to call it a day at this point is the sensible option, but the one I never take.

The Clinger: These ones will message you even after you’ve not replied for four days. Or worse: I am NOT scared to tell someone I’m not interested, The Ultimate Clinger’s still message regardless of being told they’re not through to Date Two. They find you on Instagram, they like your shit on Twitter, they fucking connect with you on LinkedIn! These are the worst ones, without a doubt.

Funny ones: Make you laugh for three years, never want to let them go, but either they’re generally such awesome people they’re also dating like a maniac or you realise after a week or two that you’ve not actually had an actual conversation and try to ask them something about themselves, to which they look at you like you’re speaking a language they don’t understand.

Sex gods: So good in bed it excuses everything else. Know how hard it is to find a decent shag in a city with 8 million people? Harder than you’d think!

The Ones You’d Take Home to Your Mum: not the people who turn up uninvited with donuts (I am yet to find these men, holla if you’re around), but the ones who tell you you’re beautiful and message you back instantly. These men would have been perfect for the version of me who moved here three months ago, but I am not this person right now.

The Smart One: These ones are otherwise known as ‘The Potential’. These ones are either in a fucking BORING profession, or they’re studying. These are the ones that are, most likely, going to develop into ‘The One You’d Take Home to Your Mum’, but because they’re not quite there yet it’s always good to keep them in mind, because I might decide I’m ready to settle down one day, who knows?

The Ones who Get Away: These ones manage to stick around regardless of a date, one of mine has made it this far. He was one of the Original 20 who liked me, and I’ve not met him, but we message bi-weekly, he’s exactly what I know I want, but I’m putting off meeting him because I know I’ll find a way for it to end. I’m not ready to be with just one man yet, and I’m not ready to let him go either.

The Danger Mouse: Someone NOT from online dating. Someone who you work with, or a friend of an ex, or someone you just generally need to stay THE FUCK AWAY FROM, yet when they text you can’t stop yourself from thinking ah, only young once.

Now, this all sounds harsh as fuck, right? If I was a bloke I don’t think you’d be thinking that. Modern day women exist, boys, and we’re here to use you too. I’ll do lunch dates just to get one out the way that I’ve been putting off for a while, coffee dates for the ‘The Ones You’d Take Home to Your Mum’ or when I just need to make me laugh and remind me how much fun dating can be, I meet up with a ‘Funny one’, I’ll have a drink at someone’s house (Unfortunately very rarely a Sex God) if I’ve decided it’s time to sleep with them (I never stay over at risk of The Clinger).

Currently there’s a ‘One that Gets Away’, two ‘Smart Ones’ and one ‘Danger Mouse’. I’m happy with my dating life the way it is right now, as I have a full time job and (thankfully) an amazing social life without all these dates in it, for me right now, I’m content playing my dating games, and who knows, maybe someone will create their own category and take me by surprise by just being: The One Who’s Good Enough to make me Stop.

TL;DR, ‘blah blah… let’s call it a day’.

Submitted July 08, 2019 at 10:58PM

London, 2019. Everyone dates, right? But usually, people are looking for love, or a one-night stand, or can go on a date every-other-Sunday. To get to how I am now a full blown addict to dating, I need you to understand why I’m now like this.Some people are shy to the idea, others wait weeks to make sure they like the person enough to give them a whole TWO HOURS of their lives, imagine that! All those wasted weeks, for one date that will probably fizzle out after less time than it took to have the date in the first place.I moved to London heartbroken and desperate to enjoy the single life. I’m 23, and hadn’t been single since my first boyfriend 8 years previously.Figuring out where to start? Tinder seemed too young, too ‘uncool’ for this new version of me. I was sat with my best friend on a bus when she introduced me to Hinge.Within a minute I had close to 20 likes, and the games began.Now, don’t get me wrong, I was a newborn in the world of city dating. I still believed that after two or three attempts I’d fall in love. It was all I knew and all I was good at.My housemates couldn’t keep up. We were nicknaming men after where in London they were from, or what job they had, sometimes even the same boy’s name but with the number of order after. I had 10+ chats open on my phone at any one time, and I was dating at least once a day, sometimes I left one date and went straight to another. I really believed if I told myself I was wanted, I’d feel like I mattered to a man again.WRONG.Enter ‘Fulham’. Took me for coffee one warm afternoon, we smoked and drank like we were in a fucking Parisian movie. He walked me to my uber and I honestly thought this was the start of the last relationship of my life. Later that week he invited me over for dinner, no one’s ever cooked for me before. How civilised, how bloody romantic, I thought.You’ve guessed it. You get invited to a guys house and no matter how much you laugh and talk, there’s always, ALWAYS, going to be the final question of the evening: ‘Shall we take this to bed?’.I should have said no, but it was the second date, we had talked about families, jobs, relationships, we had laughed over absolutely nothing at all and I fancied the fuck out of him.Next morning, he literally pushed me away, didn’t look me in the eye and once we were out the door he said he had to rush off to work and whoosh. Gone.So, I walked to the same coffee place we had had our first date, met a wonderful family and drank a coffee wilfully staring at my phone. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person? Maybe he genuinely didn’t have time to look at his phone before work?The whole day passed, I had managed to find out where the tube station was and head home. Eventually I realised I had left my phone charger at his, and thought I really didn’t want to buy a new one, so I messaged him around 7pm letting him know, and apologising for leaving something at his house. His reply? ‘Looks like my roommate has a spare now’.I should have got that, right? It should have hit me then, that I had been used and I needed to block his number ASAP. Oh no, I still didn’t get it. Two days passed, and I actually asked him what was up. Like, he had told me he wanted to see me again. I believed him. I don’t remember his whole reply, but it’s the same generic text that’s sent a million times a day all over the world. ‘Blah blah, blah blah, let’s call it a day’.I learnt a lot at this point, but not enough to stop when ‘The Hot One’ entered my life shortly after. THO knew he was gorgeous, he was a total prick, but for six weeks I let myself pretend he cared about me and cooked him dinner most nights. He stayed over twice, in six weeks. Twice. He’d come over from work, eat the food I’d cooked, talk to my housemate about how to pull women, shag me, then leave. And I kept opening the door.I was dating other people still, I never got bored of that, but because this guy was so incredibly gorgeous (the sort of man that got me death glares on the rare occasions we were out in public), I kept him around. He didn’t publicly touch me, kiss me, barely spoke to me, but whenever I got a message from him I melted. He kept me in a game of cat and mouse until I was told my mum was sick. Telling THO was a mistake, usually people feel bonded to you when you share problems with them, but I instantly knew this had made me damaged goods. I already felt too high maintenance (even though I never asked for anything), I realised the guy was a belled. That, combined with flirting with other women in front of me, leaving me on a night out to get high with a stranger elsewhere in London, borrowing money every other day, meant I eventually grew bored of feeling like shit, and when he realised I wasn’t going to offer him any more than a one-worded reply he thankfully cut the whole thing off with the same generic ‘blah blah, you’re a great girl, blah blah, let’s call it a day…’.Now, we’re two months into my London dating life here. I have learned the general drill: men here believe the grass is always greener elsewhere, both these men had actually said so themselves. When I replied ‘the grass is greener where you water it’, they had both nodded slightly and said ‘I suppose I never thought of it like that’. Of course not.So, I figured, if it was so easy for them to turn off their emotions and date all around the city, I would do the same.The general idea is to have 4 on the go simultaneously, two on Hinge and two on WhatsApp, date the favourite one on WhatsApp then after I’ve filtered into one of the following categories we either keep him around for a bit or we immediately let the messages filter out and bring forward the next one from Hinge, then check my likes for a replacement.The categories are (remember these are the ones who actually make it to a date. I have over 100 boys in three months who I have initially found attractive but have not made it this far) Again: this is not big-headed, this is easy as hell for anyone who actually wants to date like a madman in a city this crowded with people:Dull AF: the boys who have good chat, then you meet them and you literally HAVE to get drunk to have a good time. The only option after half an hour of shite conversation and pretending it’s going to work is to get pissed, to call it a day at this point is the sensible option, but the one I never take.The Clinger: These ones will message you even after you’ve not replied for four days. Or worse: I am NOT scared to tell someone I’m not interested, The Ultimate Clinger’s still message regardless of being told they’re not through to Date Two. They find you on Instagram, they like your shit on Twitter, they fucking connect with you on LinkedIn! These are the worst ones, without a doubt.Funny ones: Make you laugh for three years, never want to let them go, but either they’re generally such awesome people they’re also dating like a maniac or you realise after a week or two that you’ve not actually had an actual conversation and try to ask them something about themselves, to which they look at you like you’re speaking a language they don’t understand.Sex gods: So good in bed it excuses everything else. Know how hard it is to find a decent shag in a city with 8 million people? Harder than you’d think!The Ones You’d Take Home to Your Mum: not the people who turn up uninvited with donuts (I am yet to find these men, holla if you’re around), but the ones who tell you you’re beautiful and message you back instantly. These men would have been perfect for the version of me who moved here three months ago, but I am not this person right now.The Smart One: These ones are otherwise known as ‘The Potential’. These ones are either in a fucking BORING profession, or they’re studying. These are the ones that are, most likely, going to develop into ‘The One You’d Take Home to Your Mum’, but because they’re not quite there yet it’s always good to keep them in mind, because I might decide I’m ready to settle down one day, who knows?The Ones who Get Away: These ones manage to stick around regardless of a date, one of mine has made it this far. He was one of the Original 20 who liked me, and I’ve not met him, but we message bi-weekly, he’s exactly what I know I want, but I’m putting off meeting him because I know I’ll find a way for it to end. I’m not ready to be with just one man yet, and I’m not ready to let him go either.The Danger Mouse: Someone NOT from online dating. Someone who you work with, or a friend of an ex, or someone you just generally need to stay THE FUCK AWAY FROM, yet when they text you can’t stop yourself from thinking ah, only young once.Now, this all sounds harsh as fuck, right? If I was a bloke I don’t think you’d be thinking that. Modern day women exist, boys, and we’re here to use you too. I’ll do lunch dates just to get one out the way that I’ve been putting off for a while, coffee dates for the ‘The Ones You’d Take Home to Your Mum’ or when I just need to make me laugh and remind me how much fun dating can be, I meet up with a ‘Funny one’, I’ll have a drink at someone’s house (Unfortunately very rarely a Sex God) if I’ve decided it’s time to sleep with them (I never stay over at risk of The Clinger).Currently there’s a ‘One that Gets Away’, two ‘Smart Ones’ and one ‘Danger Mouse’. I’m happy with my dating life the way it is right now, as I have a full time job and (thankfully) an amazing social life without all these dates in it, for me right now, I’m content playing my dating games, and who knows, maybe someone will create their own category and take me by surprise by just being: The One Who’s Good Enough to make me Stop.TL;DR, ‘blah blah… let’s call it a day’.