3. Third date

Fuuuuuuck!

I’ve got a date tonight. A third date. That’s pretty serious, right?

I was showered ages ago but I’m in still my dressing gown. I’m not meeting him till 8. No need to be too keen. I met him on this app, Happn. It’s like Tinder but less about getting in my pants. I think. Or at least I’ve convinced myself that it is.

I might have showered 3 hours ago but I still need to paint my nails, moisturise, pick out some nice underwear (not that he’ll be seeing it but still nice underwear is always best.) What should I wear? We are going for dinner. What do you eat? What if I make a mess? What if my breath smells? What if my choice of meal makes me look fat? What if I eat too much? What if I eat too quickly?

Salad. Go for salad. But salad is such a lame choice in a restaurant. Salad is probably a safe option. Unless he’s sitting there thinking “Why has she ordered salad. I don’t care what the hell you eat.” Which is probably what I’d be thinking.

He’s Jewish. Not that that’s an issue. Jewishue. I mean he’s as Jewish as I am Christian and I’m a very accepting person and this is a pretty mammoth generalisation, I mean if they’re a nice guy, they’re a nice guy, but what if he wants me convert? And his mum might not like me, and you always have to win over the mums. Once a Muslim guy asked me out at work, which is fine, but all I could think of was “What if I have to convert to Islam?!” I wouldn’t be able to drink and there wouldn’t be any more Sunday morning hangover bacon sandwiches? Even though he definitely drinks… I’ve thought too much into this, but you have to consider everything. What if he were to think I was leading him on and then I just said “I’m sorry but I just can’t convert to Islam?” I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.

You’ve probably guessed by this point that I don’t really go on many dates.

I should probably start getting ready…
I haven’t got a date tonight. No third date. 20 minutes before leaving the house, I’m stood here in knickers and a blouse trying to decide what pants to wear and he’s text me fucking me off to be sick. What the fuck?! Maybe he realised I’m not Jewish? Why am I even sad about it? Bullshit. That’s why I don’t do dates.

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