We’ve all had bad dates. If you haven’t, you’re probably not dating enough. If you have, you probably still haven’t had as bad ones as me.
When I went out with Mike a couple weeks ago, he took me to a cool rooftop bar overlooking the river, and we got along really well. So, when he asked me on a second date, I said yes.
However, this wasn’t exactly the date I had in mind.
After searching around the block a bit, we finally found the address he was searching for–310B. The door read “Detective Evans and Peel” in a faded black font. He rang the buzzer cautiously and told the voice on the other end that he had an appointment at 7:00 pm.
Expecting a loud murmur upon entry, I was instead greeted by silence and an eerily dark staircase. When we reached the bottom (and I managed to not fall on my face in the darkness), we entered an office. A man sat in an old-fashioned desk with vintage photographs surrounding him and stared at us menacingly.
“What brings you here?” He asked
My date explained that I was American and I had been acting suspiciously, taking trips around Europe on the weekends with no explanation, etc. The detective asked me if this was true, and I tried to explain myself before answering further questions. After the interrogation seemed to be over, the man told me that he was going to have to question me in a separate room. He picked up a book on his large bookcase, which spun around like a door into a restaurant.
Phew–I wasn’t being deported after all!
Obviously, I could tell shortly after entering the “detectives office” that it was some sort of speak-easy, but it was definitely the most legit one that I’ve ever been to! He was also lucky that I was the chick that he brought there, because I know lots of other girls that would freak out and think they were in a scene from Taken. Definitely points for originality, as a serial dater I can only go to a plain old wine bar so many times before it gets old…Although, don’t you think on a second date a girl deserves some food? Since we met at 6:30 I had assumed we were getting dinner, but I ended up having two cocktails for dinner instead (unless you count the bowl of popcorn they served us).
In summary: I’m still legally staying in London, will probably still go out with this guy again, but need to be fed properly next time…or the claws will come out!
This post, Confessions of a Serial Dater: My Date Tried To Deport Me, by Delilah James, appeared first on Galore.