November 23rd 2024.
I couldn't believe my luck when he bought me a drink and asked me to dance. It was 2008, I was 20 years old and had just moved to London for university. I was determined to make the most of every moment in this exciting new city.
As soon as I arrived, I was mesmerized by the bright lights and endless opportunities. The idea of making new friends, exploring new possibilities and maybe even finding a new love interest was exhilarating. The hustle and bustle of the city drew me in, especially the vibrant nightlife. My friend Martha and I loved going to Camden, a paradise for rockers. The people there were fresh, motivated and full of energy - we couldn't get enough of it.
One evening, while milling around a pub that was a popular spot for artists and creatives, I spotted the handsome lead singer of one of my favorite bands. I couldn't believe my eyes! Martha, who was giggling with excitement, urged me to go talk to him. Fueled by my newfound confidence in the big city, I mustered up the courage to introduce myself. It was a bit awkward, I must admit, but I managed to blurt out something along the lines of "I'm a huge fan of your band!" It wasn't the smoothest introduction, but I was over the moon when he bought me a drink and we started dancing. For the next few hours, I felt like I was on top of the world.
I couldn't help but wonder, was I really going to date a rock star? Before Martha and I left for the night, the singer asked for my number. Trying to play it cool, I nonchalantly took his number instead. On the bus ride back to our flat in Putney, we couldn't contain our excitement - was I actually going to date a rock star? I felt elated and a little bit tipsy, convinced that I would fit right into the elite London rock scene. I mean, I loved music and partying - two essential qualities, right?
The next week, I messaged him, trying not to seem too eager. We made plans to meet up at a bar I had never been to, but he assured me it was a fun spot. I was thrilled at the idea of going to a cool bar with a cool guy - it sounded, well, cool. But on the day of our date, I was a bundle of nerves. I suddenly became hyper aware of how boring I must seem to a rock star. I mean, my hobbies were playing video games and watching history documentaries - not exactly the most exciting interests for someone in the music industry.
I put on my most flattering leopard print dress and promised myself I would only listen to two of his songs on the train there - a very reasonable compromise. When we arrived at the bar, I was a bit underwhelmed. It was hardly a bar, but more like a tiny room with a few old tables. The air smelled of stale beer and, worryingly, vomit. My date was already inside, cozying up to the whiskey and a small collection of CDs behind the bar. My stomach dropped - was this it? The music playing was good, but it was a typical heavy metal dive bar.
I found a table in the corner, away from two rough-looking guys spitting on the floor. After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Rockstar finally came over and slumped into his chair. The mood was suddenly tense and I felt a bit sick and uncomfortable. I tried to make conversation about music and partying, but he was having none of it. He barely said a word, which only made me more anxious.
Just when I was about to give up, he pulled out his phone and started talking about his week. Finally, a glimmer of hope! But my relief was short-lived as he immediately started telling me about other women he was "dating" - from a model to someone who engaged in some very interesting nighttime activities. He even showed me pictures of these gorgeous women on his phone. I felt stupid for even thinking I had a chance with him.
As I was planning my dramatic exit, my date excused himself to go to the bar's only restroom. Unfortunately for me, the door to the restroom was right next to our table and opened to the main room - no hallway, no sound or smell barrier. As I listened to the sound of his stomach contents making a hasty exit, I wondered why I was still there. But I wanted to leave with a witty quip to salvage my self-esteem.
Finally, after what felt like ages and several loud noises from the restroom, my date came out, oddly confident. Before I could say anything, he interrupted me and said he was bored and heading off to a "frisky adult group meeting". And, he added, I was also invited. Apparently, during his bathroom break, he had sent my Myspace photo to the group organizers and I had passed their attractiveness check. He then informed me that participation was optional and I could just watch if I felt uncomfortable.
I was at a loss for words. My mind was clear, much like his stomach. I quickly left, feeling foolish and disgusted. I never contacted the singer again and happily turned down any future drink invitations.
Now, 14 years later, I still listen to his music - but only two songs, a very reasonable compromise. So, How Did It Go? is a series that will make you cringe or feel envious as people share their best and worst date stories. If you have an embarrassing or exciting dating experience, feel free to share it with the world. Contact jess@email for more information.
[This article has been trending online recently and has been generated with AI. Your feed is customized.]
[Generative AI is experimental.]
