My date showered me with compliments – until I turned down his request

Almost two years ago, a quirky guy stopped me from absent-mindedly scrolling one evening.

I had downloaded Hinge as part of my post-divorce foray into dating. I thought I’d find it daunting after being out of the scene for five years but I was enjoying my quest to find Mr Right.

George* wasn’t my usual type but his humorous photos and prompts caught my eye. In one photo he was dressed as an astronaut; another showed him with his pet bird. He had a good job, was a couple of years older than me and seemed to have his life together.

We soon matched and and he suggested a first date later that week at a pub. 

When I wandered into the arranged venue, I recognised him hunched over his table while rolling a cigarette. Oddly, on his profile he’d listed himself as a non-smoker, but I figured he was in the process of quitting or calming his nerves.

I found it sweet that he was early and had a pint waiting for me. My ex-husband had never been that chivalrous. 

There was no initial awkwardness, and the conversation flowed, despite George admitting during our second round that he’d been nervous all day in anticipation.

He told me he’d been single for a good couple of years and was ready to settle down. Then he leaned forward to speak. ‘I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I hope we have a second date?

I was caught off-guard by his forwardness – he was interesting and funny, but I wasn’t feeling romantic chemistry. Trying to be diplomatic, I told him it was too soon to tell. 

That’s when the compliments started. They were all centred on how I looked, which seemed shallow and disingenuous for a man in his mid 30s.

I looked better than my photos, he said, adding, ‘You’d never guess how many women trick men with their profiles’.

He loved my hair; I was a nine out of 10. Throwing around these superficial compliments on a first date was too much too soon but I didn’t feel comfortable telling him to cool it. 

Then, George divulged that he’d been recently told that he would soon meet the love of his life – and she’d be wearing a red dress. I was wearing a red dress that night. No pressure. 

I changed the subject. 

Half an hour later, we were sitting side-by-side and George asked if he could kiss me. I thought, why not – it was refreshing being asked for consent compared with previous dates who had launched themselves at me, and it seemed a good way to establish once and for all if there was a spark. 

It wasn’t a good kiss. It confirmed there was no chemistry on my end and I mentally friend-zoned him, then avoided further physical contact by surreptitiously changing seats after buying the next round. 

Soon after, George begged to stay the night at mine, but I politely declined. I just didn’t fancy him.

After I rejected his sleepover request, everything changed. 

George suddenly changed tack. ‘You think you’re so cool!’ he huffed. I laughed, before he added: ‘You’re not that hot actually, I’ve changed my rating to 6/10.’ 

I shrugged nonchalantly. I didn’t rise to his disparaging comments, which confused him. It had been a while since I’d been on the receiving end of hot and cold sentiments, and I wasn’t impressed; it was weird and immature.

I think George was pulling a power move to save face. Maybe he had a fragile ego, maybe I triggered a weird memory… regardless, it’s unacceptable for a grown man, and was the nail in the coffin of our mediocre date. I told him I better call it a night. 

Again, George implored that he wanted to stay at mine and grabbed my arm. ‘Please! I like you so much.’ 

‘Sorry, I don’t have sex on the first date,’ I said. His face darkened and the next wave of insults hit: Now, he was ridiculing my star sign, telling me my Libra was a terrible match for his Cancer before narrowing his eyes and sneering, ‘I can tell you’re part ginger!’. 

Despite starting to feel unsafe, I almost had to laugh at this last remark. I was a brunette, and I didn’t know how having ginger hair could be something to be ashamed of!

Gathering my belongings, I made moves to leave, and George was adamant he’d take me home. When I refused, he threw out a final recycled comment – ‘You think you’re so cool!’ – and I walked away, leaving him at the bus stop. 

Walking through my front door, I was relieved the evening was over. But when I glanced at my phone, a barrage of WhatsApps and Hinge messages began popping up: ‘I didn’t mean what I said… please can I see you again? Pleeeaaseee? I’m sorry. I blame the booze.’ 

I didn’t open them. I just blocked him. I was disappointed, especially given his age and claims of wanting to settle down – I’ve dated guys in their 20s with lightyears more decorum than George. 

Thankfully, it was easy to move on and swipe again. But the more I’ve told this story to single friends of all ages around the world, I’ve learnt that they have all experienced similar dates. 

Perhaps this behaviour stems from a desire to control the situation due to insecurity or emotional immaturity. But nobody wins by playing mind games.

*Name has been changed

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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