We’re Going on a Man Hunt
Another week, another chance for me to humiliate myself in the pursuit of a boyfriend.
For those curious about last week’s Omegle guy, essentially, he messaged me on Instagram saying that he’d deleted Tinder since our conversation. Yeah, I know! The power I wield, honestly. I can make a guy fucking delete a dating app from a 30-minute convo (or maybe I’d scarred him from dating for life, whatever), isn’t that incredible? Unfortunately, I just wasn’t really vibing it. He was 30, he lived in Christchurch, he used too many hashtags on social media. So onwards we go, readers.
This week, as promised, I went out boyfriend hunting in the most plentiful of places: the university library. A sacred spot of learning and hot men in glasses.
I spent about an hour practically hyperventilating in the corner before I worked up the nerve to approach my first target. Tall, blonde, conventionally handsome; he was the total opposite of my type so I thought that might make things easier. It didn’t. I approached him slowly, and at the crucial moment of contact, my mind went fucking blank.
“Do you know where the bathroom is?” I asked. He pointed down the corridor. Not a single word uttered. I smiled, very stupidly: “Thanks, just needed a quick piss!” I stupidly thought that talking about piss would helpfully clarify that I wasn’t taking a shit. A shit isn’t cool, a piss can at least be a bit of a laugh. It wasn’t. I had just announced that I was about to urinate to a total stranger, then ran off.
The Universe 1, Me 0.
The next boy I approached was a bit more geeky-looking, and thus might take pity on a sad, piss-talking stranger. This guy, let’s call him Simon, was reading a sad-looking book about fonts. Bingo. Sans Serif, am I right? I rocked up, and sat down about a seat away from him. There was still space between us, but I was sitting pretty awkwardly close considering the vast amount of room in the library.
After about 5 minutes, I turned to him, ready for my chance at love. “Do you have a pen I could borrow?” He stared at me weirdly, but nodded and got a ballpoint from his backpack. He was still looking at me, which I was almost taking complimentarily, until I realised: Fuck. I had forgotten I’d only brought a laptop and not paper. I didn’t even have anything I could use a pen on! I awkwardly took it from his hand, and smiled. Fuck, fuck, fuck. In a moment of excruciating agony, I scribbled some random numbers on my hand and handed it back. “Cheers!”
Okay, so I had gotten myself out of one love landmine. Could I get myself across the finished line? Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Simon, and blabbered “I know this is totally random, but do you want to get a coffee?”
A pause. More like a fucking linger, if I’m honest. And then finally a: “No thank you, I don’t really drink coffee.” Okay. Okay. Awkward. Knowing when to take the L, I muttered a quick “all good!” and packed up my things. The walk of shame to the library door was long and unforgiving. To be honest, I felt like a freak. Bit of a low-point, folks. Don’t even get me started on the can of Boss Iced Coffee I saw on Simon’s desk. Non-coffee drinker, my ass.