Plan B.

After a run in with the mentally ill colleague on Soulmates I switched sites. Sadly, Match dot com reminds me of Tesco.

There’s a sizeable number of men on there to be sure, however, most appear unable to grasp basic punctuation and specify the desired weight of their potential date. This, in turn makes me want to be a little bit sick in my mouth. Punctuation is very dear to me and I am not a prize hog.

I digress.

The most recent and in all likelihood last date for some time to come showed some promise. This guy was mad funny, yo! Though he may have been a good inch shorter than me and balding like a monk I spent most of the date half covering my eyes, convulsing with laughter, completely bowled over. Confident to the point of offensive, he was like Ricky Gervais on meth.

Utterly charmed, I couldn’t get a word in, his conversation threads switching so quickly that I ended up feeling a bit boring and slow, which in itself is bad sign. He seemed more interested in making me laugh than finding out anything much about me.

Still intoxicated with his whipsmart mind the red flags started appearing.
1. The word Gay shouldn’t be used as an insult. We all know this. When someone reminds you, don’t get defensive.
2. Openly admitting that you would kill the mother of your child if you could get away with it is not a first date conversation topic.
3. Joking about rape as a way to convince me that my vegetarian mother is an accomplice to my Father’s meat eating and inferring she is not a very committed vegetarian may not secure further dates.

You did just read that right. I listed joking about rape as a red flag. Rape isn’t very funny really. Rum impairs my judgement. We pushed on. The rape jokes kept coming.

At some point, a very small, polite part of me broke. Isn’t it funny us joking about rape like this, I thought. The whole evening was starting to feel like a verbal assault. I felt somehow the only way to take back some control over the conversation and was to offer up that I had been raped as a teenager and that although I found him dashing and wildly entertaining that some topics, you know, like rape, were actually not for making fun of.

This gave him pause but not for long. A momentary stumble in a 4 hour long stand up set.

‘What colour dress were you wearing?’ He asked me. ‘Black.’ I said. ‘Well then clearly you asked for it.’ He replied and then, ‘Did you let him finish?’ I laughed at this. LAUGHED AT IT. He laughed too and never called me again.

My stupid, broken brain still isn’t convinced this is a GOOD thing.

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