When My Date's Mum Targeted Him, I Made a Quick Exit
A Date That Was Far From Romantic
After firmly declining a kiss from my date, I slammed the taxi door shut and shouted, “Drive!” at the driver. As the car pulled away, I grabbed my phone to tell my housemates about the disastrous evening. The further I got from the bar, the more the discomfort faded, but I made a mental note: “Next time, make sure you really get to know someone before agreeing to a date.”
Back in the early 2010s, I was a young student trying to navigate the real world for the first time. One Thursday night, I found myself in a dark basement bar for a drink, where I met Jake. He was dressed in a suit, so I knew he wasn’t a student, but had a mop of curls. We had a fleeting eye contact as we sipped our drinks, and he said a brief hello as I passed him without getting into a conversation.
We didn’t chat much, but before parting ways, he slipped a scrap of paper with his number on it into my hand. Back then, social media wasn’t as prevalent, so I couldn’t track him down before sending him a message. Our initial meet-cute was fun enough to make me want to pursue the connection. However, the chemistry was lacking over text. I barely remember our messages, but I do recall single-word responses and a lack of witty repartee.
Despite that, we decided to meet the following weekend. What happened next certainly wasn’t on my dating bingo card. Naïve and optimistic, I expected something special for our first official date, maybe dinner and drinks. But when Friday evening came and I hadn’t heard from him, I feared he might not show up.
Eventually, I sent him a message asking if he still wanted to meet. His reply was what I’d been afraid of: “I forgot and I’m in the pub with my friends.” To my surprise, he asked if I wanted to join them. I agreed, expecting to see him with a group of lads, but instead, I saw him with two middle-aged women.
Had we not made eye contact, I probably would have turned around and left. Instead, I walked towards them. “This is my mum and auntie,” Jake said, and I almost dropped my jaw. They were very welcoming, and Jake acted like it was nothing unusual. Against my better judgment, I stayed at the pub, trying to be open-minded.
What followed was a discovery that Jake and I had even less in common than I thought. We didn’t stay long, just long enough for me to politely buy drinks for all four of us despite my student-loan budget. Per his aunt’s request, we moved to another bar, which I hoped would provide a change of scenery.
During the short journey, Jake informed me how drunk they all were. I wasn’t thrilled when he tried to hold my hand, but I stayed out of curiosity. When we reached the bar, it looked a bit more lively, which distracted me from the uncomfortable situation.
His mother’s entry was questioned by the bouncer, but eventually, they were allowed in. In the bar, things went from bad to downright creepy. While I sipped a watered-down vodka and orange, his aunt put her hand on my thigh several times, which I found over-friendly. I tried to squirm away repeatedly.
Then Jake’s mum began grinding aggressively on him and dropping it like it was hot on a nearby pole, and the ick set in. After a few stumbles and a spilt rum and Coke, the bouncer changed his mind and asked her to leave the bar. We followed shortly after.
It was only 9pm, and we were back outside. I took this as my chance to make an excuse about an early start and hurried toward the taxi queue after a mumbled “goodbye.” That’s when Jake made his move. As I slid into the back seat of a taxi, he leaned down for a kiss.
I quickly swerved and pushed him out of the cab before telling the driver to go. I hoped he got the message, but to my surprise, the next morning at 7am, I received a text from him. At first, I assumed it was an apology, but when I opened it, I genuinely laughed out loud. “Morning beautiful, we should do that again!” he wrote. He thought the date had gone well!
Ghosting wasn’t really a thing back then, but that’s exactly what I did. You won’t be surprised to hear that I never saw or heard from him again.
The next date I went on, I made sure I knew at least the basics about the other person beforehand, and luckily, there were no drunk mums or aunties in sight.
So, How Did It Go?
So, How Did It Go? is a weekly series that will make you cringe with second-hand embarrassment or ooze with jealousy as people share their worst and best date stories. Want to spill the beans about your own awkward encounter or love story? Contact jess.austin@.co.uk.
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