• rosiemansfield1

6. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen

I’m going to pause my recollection here to say that dating is one big lie.

Sure, if the relationship starts going somewhere you should come clean, and don’t start lying about major things like what your name is… but I don’t think there is any harm in adding in the odd white lie to make yourself seem more interesting. I remember I once saw on someone’s Tinder bio that they liked old-school rap music. I learned the entirety of Miami by Will Smith and added it to a playlist so it would magically come on and I could show off.

I also think that it is dating etiquette to not mention the dates you are going on with other people. Who wants to know that after your coffee and snog with Jack he’s gone and met Sarah for a cocktail and a shag? Why didn’t you get the cocktail, what makes Sarah so special? You just don’t need to know. When Ollie asked me ’You’re not on any dating apps, are you?’ I didn’t even feel like I was lying when I said ‘No, I think it's much better to meet people organically'.

Lockdown restrictions were tightening and Borris had announced a new tier system would be implemented. Ollie and I decided to go to London for an overnight stay to celebrate our last week of freedom.

It was only 4 pm and I was already quite drunk. I was recollecting the ‘vomit in sleeve’ moment (see blog 5) to Ollie when he butted in: ’You already told me this story. You didn’t tell me you went back to Alex’s house’. ‘Hang on...I didn’t go back to Alex’s house.’ Muddled, and trying to tell the story correctly, Hinge suddenly flashed up on my phone with a new match. Ollie began laughing at me, shaking his head, ‘well you’ve shown your true colours’. I am still not entirely sure what he meant. After three weeks of shagging and a conversation about not being exclusive, I was startled by his belittling response… So I did what most girls do. I cried in the toilet, called my best friend, and apologised repeatedly to Ollie.

Despite the apology and the plea to continue enjoying our evening in London, Ollie couldn’t let the dating app flash go. For every time he called me a ‘Liar’ I took a huge gulp of booze, and was getting progressively more sloppy as the night went on.

Ollie soon ‘made friends’ with two random people and invited them to sit with us at the bar. ‘This is Rosie, my colleague, the liar’ he laughed. At this point, I was fucking twatted. I tried leaving the bar on my own, soon realising my phone was out of battery and that I had lost my wallet. I asked Ollie if we could leave, and with no money, train tickets or phone we ended up inviting the two strangers back to our hotel so they could navigate us. The night ended when the female stranger (I honestly don’t remember her name, nor do I care to invent one) ended up climbing onto Ollie’s lap and snogging him whilst I was in the toilet of our hotel room.

Thankfully, the hotel was done with our shit. They called our room to ask the guests to leave. The next morning I had sex with Ollie and apologised again. For some reason the whole evening had just made me want him to like me more: Treat em’ mean keep em’ keen.

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