Set the scene:

It’s 7pm, Shepherds Bush Station (Central Line).

I get to the station and I can’t spot tonight’s date in the crowd. It’s so busy, so I call him.

I find him eventually, he’s handsome and super tall, this is great. I approach him, all smiles and go to hug him.

He goes stiff and comes out with “I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

Erm…..ooookaayyyy then. Flag.

I ask him where are we going and he tells me he knows just the place, a pub on Uxbridge Road.

Hmm. He hasn’t picked the more obvious choices nearby. Odd. Defectors Weld? Sindercombe Social, I mean even ye olde faithful, “The Bull”.

Flag.

As we walk, we ask each other a few standard Qs’s,  a joke is made and his reaction is to punch my arm.

WTF? Is this an episode of Friends? Flag .

He does this one more time and I ask him to not do that, ever, because I don’t like it.

We are STILL walking…where the hell is he taking me. I find it odd that we are walking this far down into Shepherds Bush, no-one goes this far down…

We finally get to the Pub and as I knock back the pinot, I quickly start to forget all about those flags.

We chat and we flirt. We drink more wine whilst he says interesting things mixed in with a few arrogant things. He tells a few crap jokes followed by decent chat. He leans in a little, I pull away.

We’re on our 2nd bottle of wine now,  the flirting increases and we get a little bit more comfortable on the sofa. We get close, real close and then we kiss a little…and then kiss a little more.

He goes bold and asks me if I want to go back to his place, it was nearby. He did mention earlier that he had his own place and he didn’t care about having to spend more money in order to have his own space.

So with caution thrown to the wind, we leave the pub. When he said he didn’t live far,  he wasn’t bloody joking. He actually lived across the road from the pub…The warning flags start to come back out…

I’m very tipsy at this point and I’m curious to see his place. He unlocks the door and we walk through the hallway.

He shows me where the bathroom is…and then opens the door to his space. “Let me give you a tour.”

When he was bragging about living on his own and was happy to spend extra cash to have that privacy, I was thinking a cute, cosy but spacious apartment. Enough room to swing a cat or have a sex party that included hanging from faux chandeliers from IKEA.

My idea was far from reality. As I stood in the doorway, I was confused. It was so small. Teeny tiny humans would have struggled to make this a home let alone a guy who was 5 foot fucking 6.

I look to the left, the ladder to his bed bunk bed. I look to the right, his kitchen and straight in front of me was a desk. Where on earth were we supposed to have a good time exactly? I can assure you, not on any level would I have climbed up a ladder to get in his bed.

I sober up, very quickly. I don’t want to be here. How do I do this? How do i get myself out of this situation?

He grabs a bottle of wine out of the fridge and pours me a glass. He kisses me, my eyes are wide open and my brain is failing me. Why am I still in this guy’s room? Why am I kissing him back? Why do I have wine?

He needs the toilet – I hope it’s a genuine need for a wee and not a let me clean my dick because I’m about to get lucky situation.

I pour my glass of wine down the sink and I get ready to leave whilst assessing where the would be weapons are in the room and how to get at them should this end badly.

He comes back in and tries to get all dominant – would have loved that, had I not been totally repulsed by the situation I had put myself in.

I tell him I need to go, it’s late and I have work in the morning. He seems to think he can change my mind.. #NoMeansNo

As I make my escape I tell myself off for being reckless. As I stroll home, I fill the girls in, I reflect on the flags and the serial killer vibes that were screaming at me. Safe to say I have no desire of ever seeing or speaking to again.

I never messaged him and there was no message from him that night, or the next night.

Then a few days later I got a text from him “hey – had a really great time, would like to see you again..”

Hmm…sorry pal, that’s a no from me.

Moral of this tale: Never ignore the flags. Drink responsibly.

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