Was I Dating David Mitchel???

So…. I met this guy who shan’t be named back in February 2016 on Tinder. I’d just split up with my first boyfriend (the one) after the big break up with my daughter’s dad. And to be honest had no idea that no matter how hard I tried wasn’t going to be over that guy ever.

He seemed nice when we were chatting online and seemed to give off this air of a “Fuck it” attitude… I kinda liked that. I’m impulsive at the best of times, and then doubly so most of the time so this guy seemed to float my boat. He was previously a web developer who’d decided to move back to Cardiff and become a mechanic. At 28… yep he was massively younger than me, I thought why the hell not?? After chatting for a couple of weeks we arranged to meet up after work on a Monday night. We went to the Cosy Club and had dinner. We talked happily through the meal and got to know each other. Now you have to remember at this point in time I was still getting over the rejection of my Ex and felt hugely unattractive so probably threw myself at any male who offered me attention, easily done. So we left, and I invited him back. He still hadn’t kissed me… like when was he going to kiss me? So I took my chance and made the move, he was a bit shocked but kissed me back. I felt a bit awkward, like had he wanted me to? Anyhow he came back to mine. Now, my house isn’t perfect, I’m a mum, I work full time and have two dogs. So there was mud all over my pale tiled kitchen floor, I didn’t see this as an issue, I WORK FULL TIME!!! His first comment upon seeing my pretty nice, okay perhaps a little lived in, but nice house was to offer to mop my kitchen floor??!!?? WHAT? Slightly insulted, I declined his kind offer. So I make him a coffee, we get chatting, have a bit more of a passionate kiss and I lead him upstairs to see the rest of my house (yeah you know where I’m going here…).

We go into my bedroom, he moans a little about the pile of clothes in the corner on my ottoman… I kind of ignore it, thinking… I have big boobs, you shouldn’t be looking over there. Without trying to sound too narcissistic, I was actually out of this guy’s league, but of course, when you have low self esteem you don’t see that at the time. so we start getting a bit closer, takes a while, this is awkard, the last guy was ripping my clothes off before we’d even got upstairs! Okay, so perhaps I have a gentleman, that’s not so bad right? He whips out a bunch of condoms… okay so at least he had intentions that’s good! I may have looked slightly horrified, I’m all for safe sex, but perhaps it was his clinical manner in which this was done, like someone prepping for surgery. Anyhow, we have okay sex, not really fireworks but not the worst. Okay so this could work I decide, he’s okay… seemed funny and charming, I will give this guy a go. We’re lying next to each other, post coitus as Sheldon Cooper would describe and I catch the guy’s profile…. OH MY GOD! I think, He looks like David Mitchel?!? OH NO! Can I cope with this? He didn’t look like him in any of his profile pics, although he’d clearly put on some weight since then (something I was going to learn about Tinder… They Lie! They Allllll Lie!!!!)  Okay but he was nice enough, I took the comments about my floor as endearing, he opened doors and paid for food, plus this one could drive (somehow I always manage to pick men who can’t drive… I like cars, no I love cars, and motorbikes… I find it odd when someone can’t drive) I decided to keep this one for a bit at least. He mentioned the whole, I don’t take this stuff lightly, I’m sleeping with you because I intend to be in a relationship with you, well at least I knew where I stood… and so the saga of the sad mechanic began… To be continued…

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