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The Catfish Saga

Online Dating

By Alex VoltairePublished 6 years ago 10 min read
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I’m standing next to the love child of an Oompa Loompa and Kevin the Minion from Despicable me. 

Ok I don’t know how many of you will read this but you have to promise me a few things before you even think about reading the next paragraph. I’ve just read an article about a woman who has just found her clitoris, so please keep an open mind about what you’re about to read and don’t judge me.

Rule number 1, if we’re related please do not share this with anyone you refer to as Uncle or Aunty as I do not need to be explaining the ins and outs of my dating activity (yes, I’m single, no children and my mum is secretly pissed).

Rule number 2, If we’re currently dating I have granted you permission to read this as I have already told you this story which makes me immune to any judgement.

Rule number 3, I hear by condemn any type of fat shaming, body shaming or any type of prejudice towards weight, but what happened to me was a bit fucked up so forgive me for my choice of wording.

Right, now we have that out the way and you have agreed to my rules, I can finally begin to tell you this tragic Catfish dating story. I wish this was a dating story that had a Disney fairytale ending, but this date was as disappointing as being in a R.Kelly home video.

Like many of you who are reading this, online dating has become a part of our life, even a necessity to some like checking your Instagram daily, watching for blue ticks on WhatsApp conversations and putting that silly dog filter on your snapchat story. The most notorious online dating app this side of the Western hemisphere has to be Tinder.

At a really dark time in my life I signed up to Tinder (it wasn’t that dark this is just for dramatic effect), as the job I was working at the time impacted my social life severely. Working outside London for 12-14 hours a day, five days a week including weekends left me no time for socialising.

I have a close-knit group of friends I went to Uni with, and we try to plan to go out once a month to catch up. A rare weekend off in December had me excited like I was doing the "In My Feelings" dance craze.

At the start of the week my friends and I decided we were going out that Saturday, as I had the weekend off I was already preparing my strategy to tackle my potential hangover. Saturday afternoon finally comes along and all my friends had cancelled, leaving me with a free evening to do nothing, but Tinder came to the rescue, or so I thought.

Tinder managed to match myself with this rather attractive mixed-race Portuguese nanny living in east London. This glorified babysitter decided that after our 10-minute tennis rally type of messaging, it would be a great idea to meet up in person.

To be fair I was the antagonist for the forth coming union but it takes two to tango. The plan was to meet at Westfield Stratford and sample some delightful beverages in the comfort of the Sky Lounge Casino. This was a safe haven for unpredictable blind dates, a side piece rendezvous and blowing money like a Casino Royale extra.

On my way to meeting this Catfish, I asked her to let me know what she was wearing, her reply was, “Don’t worry you can’t miss me!”

Which I replied in a majorly concerned tone, “Why?”

She replied, “Because I’m short!”

Again, with concern in my tone, “How short is short?”

Her response? “4'11", but in heels I’m 5'2" and a bit!”

“A bit,” I said.

‘A bit’ is terminology used by people who are short, you don’t get anyone saying, “I’m 6'4" and a bit!” Just accept the hand that God dealt you.

I told her to meet me in Starbucks, somewhere simple with more than one exit located on opposite sides of the room, so they only cover one exit at a time. No, I wasn’t looking for exit just in case she was ugly, what do you take me for?

I hovered around the Starbucks looking for this woman and discovered a womanly figure sitting by herself with her back facing me. As I creep up behind her like a member of the SAS (Sexual Assault Specialist), I gently tapped her on the shoulder to alert her of my presence.

She stands up now to greet me with a welcome hug which I had to crouch to receive, she wasn’t lying, this lady was short. Funny enough it wasn’t her height that surprised me but more of the fact that my arm couldn’t fully extend around her waist (that one arm friendzone hug)!

At this stage I need to point out the agreement you made in order for you to read this. I have full immunity from all comments and remarks deemed prejudice, discriminating, disrespectful and rather distasteful.

What am I trying to say, you maybe asking at this point, was she bigger than I anticipated? Was she a plus sized woman? Did I consider leaving via one of two emergency exits? Yes, to all three but I didn’t let that deter me from being the gentleman that I am and continue with proceedings.

There I was, doing the walk of shame towards the Sky Lounge as I embarked on having the worst date ever. All I could think about was what if anybody I knew saw me, I have a reputation to uphold in these streets and my status was about to be assassinated like a Kennedy.

We finally reached the bar where I’ve already decided which drink I’m slowly going to sip for the whole duration of the date. FYI if you’ve gone out for drinks on a date and the person you’ve gone on the date with has only one drink for the whole entire date, you won’t be getting another date.

I checked out the drinks menu for all but two seconds then ordered my drink.

“What can I get you sir?” said the barman.

“A beer!” I replied.

“Which beer would you like?”

Clearly this barman didn’t factor the predicament I had found myself in, I’m standing next to the love child of an Oompa Loompa and Kevin the Minion from Despicable Me. Caring about which brand of beer I wanted to drink was the least of my worries.

“As long as it comes in a pint glass I don’t mind!” I replied.

As we were waiting for our drinks (she ordered a beer as well), I could see she was removing her coat, little did I know I was in for a shock.

I couldn’t tell you what kind of blouse she wore but what I do know is that what she chose to wear was unflattering. This blouse had a see-through mesh material that stretched across her chest and down the middle revealing her chest and stomach.

Nobody and I mean nobody in the name of vanity and shallowness wants to see anyone’s body fat out on display like spinning kebab meat. At this moment the thought of running for the hills and not looking back was entertaining but I decided to be a gentleman and stick it out (I have to stop being nice).

After about an hour of her rambling on with her life stories which I lost interest in as soon as we sat down, I noticed I had been staring at her rolls of fat and even counting the rolls. I’m telling you this now hand on my heart, if I knew she had this body type I wouldn’t have matched her in the first place, but this woman was a true illusionist, a magician, a dealer in the dark arts.

Her hiding her stomach behind a door frame and close up selfies conjuring up angles worthy of a Kardashian Instagram post, were as deceiving as the Brexit referendum. I knew this woman was a true foodie as soon as she mentioned her favourite food, McDonalds.

There’s nothing wrong with being a foodie as I’m a true foodie but hearing someone talk about the Big tasty burger for 10 minutes is slightly alarming especially when you learn that they have a had a heated argument with a McDonalds employee over the sauce. She was talking about the Big Tasty sauce with such passion and excitement that I honestly believed she had a slight orgasm.

Her eyes were practically rolling into the back of her head and you could hear that groan from the back of the throat like her vaginal walls had just moistened. I never knew food could excite someone into the point of climax but I’m sure I was witnessing this for the first time and pretty concerned that this was all over a McTasty burger.

Anyway, after her food orgasm she made it clear she was hungry and wanted to go to, yes you guessed it, McDonalds (McDonalds would be her only sexual experience on this date). If you’re familiar with this popular shopping centre then you would know that the McDonalds shuts around 10PM, it was now after 11PM with the date close to expiring.

Unfortunately, she remembered there was another McDonalds located across the road at another smaller shopping centre, where she was going to have her McDonalds fix. I was still in gentleman mode and decided I would follow and make sure she got to her destination safely, a rookie mistake I was going to pay for.

This shopping centre was obviously closed for business but used as a walk through to get from one side to the other. People take advantage of this and use it as a mini skate park and chill area so it was pretty much busy full of people ending or starting their night. We finally reached the McDonalds as it was closing so a takeaway was her only option, I was happy as it meant I wouldn’t have to longer endure this pain and feel euthanised like a terminally ill puppy.

I’m not sure what she ordered but I could see the screen of the till display something like £9.96. What the hell could one person be purchasing for that price in McDonalds for themselves? I had declined the offer to dine with her, so how hungry was she? I had to ask her.

“What did you order?” I said.

“Two Big Mac meals!” she replied.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry!” I sternly responded.

I know, they’re for me”, she gleefully added.

Enough was enough, time to call this a night and go home, she has McDonalds now which was the best result for her from this date and I was going to find the nearest church entrance to kneel before and pray for forgiveness like a bad 90s R&B music video.

As we walked back through the shopping centre narrowly avoiding collisions with the avid skaters, this woman decides it would be a great idea to sit and chow down on this glorious feast prepared by McDonalds.

There was no available seating for either of us so she thought it would be a great idea to sit on the floor in front of a shop. This was not a sit-down protest in the name of AIWR (Alliance for International Women’s Right) but simply someone who was most probably so hungry they couldn’t wait to eat their food on public transport like a normal person.

If she thought for two seconds I was going to sit with her on that stone-cold floor, then she was right. I know what you’re thinking, why would I want to sit down and watch her devour these meals in sexual arousement?

To be entirely honest I don’t really know, I felt compelled to being a gentleman despite all that went down and just end the date with her being escorted to her choice of transportation, or as close to it as I deemed possible. She finally polished off her meals and we made our way to the exit, I didn’t even speak to her the whole entire time she was eating. I was done talking and just wanted her to disappear like Obie Trice’s rap career. Just as we exited the building, I could see across the road her bus pulling in.

Without any concern of oncoming traffic, I literally pulled this woman across the road and dumped her near the bus stop. I jumped on my train home, texted her to let me know she’s got home safely and blocked her number.

Once I reached home and made peace with God after the night’s events, I made a vow I would never get Catfished again; but I did, and that’s another story.

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About the Creator

Alex Voltaire

Well I write and that's about it if you're looking for a descriptive synopsis into my character. If you haven't been left disappointed by the previous sentence then please by all means invest some time into my stories.

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