The Hobbit


I feel a little mean writing this one, as he is such a nice bloke, but not for me. Date number three! Again, Tinder!

As usual, a quick swipe and a match. He seemed nice, not as dominant as I like them (as I’ve eventually come to find I LOVE) but a solid human being. So after a few days of meeting, we arranged a date at a city centre bar. Somewhere I’d been before, have to be on my guard and all that! He was a kickboxer in addition to running his own business, so could easily kill me and then has the funds to dispose of my body.

I walk in and see him sitting there. He doesn’t stand to meet me. I realise that’s because he is already standing. I’m short, but he’s positively hobbit like! Hairy as fuck too! So we spend the next thirty minutes making small talk. It’s awkward. He has none of the banter and chat he had in messages. I’m not vain, but he is punching! I’m just waiting for the moment to dart or for there to be some sort of spark. The only spark comes from my lighter.

As we go to leave, he offers to link with me. I feel like I’m escorting an underage child out of an adults only venue. Whilst waiting for my taxi and for him to summon an eagle to take him back to the Shire, a group of drunk lads staggers over to us. One goes “Mate, she can’t be your missus. She’s smoking hot” I secretly agreed with him. My date answers “No, she’s my sister” What the fuck?! Your best answer was incest?!

After Gandalf collects him on an eagle and I get in my Uber, I’m starting to wonder what it is that is I’m getting wrong. I know it’s only date three, but I’m sure this used to be easier. I get home and update my Tinder settings to a minimum age of 36 to a maximum of 45. Playing with fire? I hope so!



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