After the whole incident of Mr T anyone would think I should have been put off online dating, or the attempt of it should I say. But here I was finding myself back on the ever popular right swiping app of Tinder. One of my matches struck up an instant communication thread and we typed well into the night. Lets call him Mr F. His name was actually James but for the sake of this on trust me and go with this. Mr F will all become clear.
Mr F seemed a nice local guy with an ability to communicate effectively and just like all the others there had previously been he seemed normal. Something in my gut stirred and I was convinced I recognised him or that we may have had mutual friends. So the MI5 officer in me stirred and I began searching the friend dictionary of Facebook. I was right. We did have a mutual friend; just the one but that was all I needed. This friend has always continuously been very honest and open with me even nowadays when we don’t see enough of each other. She reckoned that Mr F was fine, nothing to worry about and pretty normal compared to my past failed conquests!
The messages continued well into the night and I began to fully engage in the conversation as appose to just going along with it for something to do. Mr F then went on to say he had a bad habit. I reassured him that I was pretty certain that everyone had a habit or two nowadays be it good or bad. Mr F said I would laugh at him. Little did he know about Mr X, remember him; I do! Mr F then said he “wanted to get big”. Me being me came right back at him with the obvious comment of “well you had better join a gym then”. And this is where it all started to get a little bit crazy. He said he wanted help. How could I help him join a gym, I was really confused until all of a sudden the reply came through. It read “I don’t want to join a gym, I want you to help me get big”. He went on to say even tough he was 29 he still needed help to be fed and he still wanted help in order to do this. I tried to make a joke from the situation whilst nervous laughing. I told him I was not the right person to fly his aeroplane spoon and that he should be able to manage it himself by now but I don’t think he quite understood my humour.
Mr F wanted a damn FEEDER. He wanted me to feed him. Force feed him. That moment will haunt me forever. I was literally stuck for words. There was nothing, nothing I could write back to that. Nothing that would ever take back his confession to me and nothing that could stop me pausing for a moment and taking a damn deep breath before I screen shot the entire conversation and sent it to multiple friends.
Roll on about six months later and things got even stranger. Don’t get me wrong I hadn’t continued the interaction with Mr F but all those months later everything came flooding back to me with one very startling text message…
Lady & The Tramps! 