‘I don’t think this is working out,’ my date, John, announced over brunch.
Suddenly, the slice of sourdough toast I’d been enjoying turned to ash in my mouth and I could feel my cheeks burning bright red as I tried my best to keep my composure.
Usually I can handle rejection pretty well, but these were special circumstances.
I had just travelled from London to Bristol – approximately 117 miles – to see him for what was only our second date.
After picking me up at the bus stop we headed to a packed café. It might seem crazy to venture this far for someone you’ve met once but John worked abroad a lot – and we’d also spent six weeks having phone and video calls.
We had no special plans beyond a bit of sightseeing of his hometown, though a sleepover was definitely on the cards.
I’ve always been one for an adventure so I shoved my nerves aside and took the leap.
Yet, not one hour into said date, here he was dumping me.
Like the eggs on my plate, my brain felt like it had been scrambled.
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I put my plate aside and called the server over to ask for the bill
The humiliation stung and I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. And then the anger kicked in…
‘Are you serious?’ I asked, hurt palpable in my voice. He tried to apologise but couldn’t seem to find the words to explain why he was dumping me before our date had even fully begun.
I put my plate aside and called the server over to ask for the bill. This only made the situation more awkward as they worriedly asked if something was wrong with the meal, which was all but untouched.
I then excused myself, leaving John to pay – there was no chance in hell I was going to offer to go halves, as I normally would.
Shellshocked, I waited outside and when he finally exited the venue, he had an awkward look on his face.
He then offered to drive me to the bus stop, which I accepted as I didn’t know the way back and wanted an answer for what had just happened before I left for good.
All the awkwardness between us melted away and our physical attraction took hold
On the way, John explained that he wasn’t sure if we had a future but had been too nervous to say anything, especially as I’d come such a long way. He also admitted to having felt conflicted, which is why he didn’t tell me this beforehand.
I promptly reminded him that this was only our second date. I wasn’t expecting a proposal – just a fun date where we would get to know each other.
But he’d ruined any chance of that before we’d even got started.
At some point during our chat though, and I’m still not quite sure how it happened, we decided that I should stay so we could give this a real shot.
John drove us to his house so I could drop off my bag and the plan was to go for drinks at his local pub. But, while looking around his place, the horn hit.
Suddenly, all the awkwardness between us melted away and our physical attraction took hold.
We rushed upstairs to have sex and then it all went horribly wrong. Again!
The sex was absolutely awful.
Our rhythm was off, the room was too quiet and the whole thing felt about as spicy as watching someone fold laundry.
To make matters worse, afterwards, John told me that I reminded him of his ex. What a gentleman.
Fed up, I told him I was officially done. I had no further interest in this date romantically or sexually and I just wanted to go home.
There was just one problem: There were no more buses until morning.
With no other choice, I decided to put my anger aside. Even though our date had been a disaster, I could sense that John wasn’t a bad guy, he was just quite… inexperienced. So I suggested that we go to the pub for a few drinks as friends.
Surprisingly, this ended up being quite fun. We had too many drinks – most of which John paid for, as a way of an apology – and I made friends with a few women in the smoking area who offered their sympathies after I told them what had happened.
Then I remembered a former sex buddy and friend of mine, Ethan, lived about two hours’ drive away. Feeling tipsy, I texted him and asked if he would consider rescuing me from having to stay over at John’s place.
So, How Did It Go?
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Within minutes I had a reply. ‘I’m on my way,’ it said and there was even a photo of him getting into the car to show that he was serious.
A jolt of excitement hit my body, followed by panic. How would I tell John about this?
While the man had been less than courteous towards me, I still didn’t want to be rude. But considering how the day had started, I questioned whether he’d even care. Perhaps he’d be relieved.
However, he was distraught when I broke the news. I kept it brief, simply saying that a friend would be picking me up.
‘Please, don’t leave,’ he begged, adding that he felt he’d made a mistake and perhaps there was something between us after all.
I was pretty sure that was the alcohol talking but John seemed genuinely contrite.
I have no hard feelings about what happened because John taught me a valuable lesson
It couldn’t be about him getting laid, because I doubted either of us wanted a repeat of that misery, but it certainly made me ponder my options.
Popping outside for some fresh air, I consulted my new friends in the smoking area who eagerly cheered me on and recommended that I try door number two. Then, one of the women asked me to consider what I would choose if I was back home and not in a stranger’s city.
This advice, along with every bone in my body now telling me to ‘get out’, was the final nail in the coffin. It was time to end this bizarre date and move on.
A few hours later, Ethan pulled into the pub parking lot and relief washed over me – along with excitement, as I knew good sex was on the cards.
I hugged John goodbye while wishing him all the best. He said ‘I really am sorry’ as he watched me walk out of the pub.
Thankfully my night got a whole lot better from there on out.
Ethan booked us into a hotel, we had decent sex and I passed out on a nice comfy bed. The next morning he drove me back to London.
There was never anything serious between us, even after he rescued me that night, but we have actually remained friends nearly 10 years on.
As for John, I never heard from him again.
I have no hard feelings about what happened because he taught me a valuable lesson.
If at first you don’t succeed, don’t try again. And never stray further than Zone 6 for a second date.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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