Dating Diaries: Guys, Six Pack Is Not Everything!- Cindy’s story

I really ought to stop swiping ‘yes’ to guys just because they have a six-pack.

Mr CF2.0 (who actually, as the name might suggest, was not a robot) was, according to my diary, ‘TOTALLY MY TYPE’. I think what I meant by that was, ‘totally the type I wish I was competent enough to date, but can’t, won’t ever and how dare I use photos that suggest I don’t have a borderline binge-eating disorder? How dare I?!’.

Anyway, Mr CF2.0 sent a very copy-paste introductory message, but I was somewhat intrigued so I took the bait anyway. Plus…six-pack…y’know? I’ve since deleted it in a fit of passionate angst but it said something like…. ‘I have a set of 10 criteria. You’ve already smashed one of them, would you like to guess which one?.’

Turns out his list looked something like this (note: this is from memory and may be somewhat biased.)

  1. Incredibly attractive (yes, this was NUMBER ONE- so that told me a bit about his priorities. Not that I can talk, given the only reason I matched with him was…ABS)
  2. Takes care of herself
  3. Makes me feel good about myself (am I picking up a hint of narcissism?)
  4. Laughs at my jokes
  5. …..
  6. Makes me look like a God
  7. Thinks I might be God
  8. Dresses like a Goddess wanting to serve her God
  9. I am God
  10. oh, ..Intelligent.


I am one of those people kind of stumbling my way through life who somehow managed to belly flop into a job that sounds very impressive. This makes people think I must be smart. This is not true. Smart people don’t think their car air conditioning is actually cold enough to go to minus 25 degrees, as in, 25 DEGREES BELOW FREEZING POINT. Tell you what IS that cold though? This guy’s heart. OH!

To be honest, he actually wasn’t that bad. In fact, he was quite normal. The date was relatively normal, and would most likely be a very boring read if I don’t turn him into a very cold, yet alarmingly sexy, villain. Kind of like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Mr Freeze in the Batman and Robin movie.

But, I digress! So, after establishing where exactly I sat on Mr CF2.0’s list, he clarified that it certainly is what’s on the inside that counts (in my case, literally my brain) because while my ‘photos look good, it’s hard to tell until you meet in person’. Harsh, but fair. To be honest, I (now) have that same scepticism towards men’s height. I mean, you know, someone could hypothetically say they’re, oh I don’t know, SIX FOOT and be pictured standing next to, for example, something tall, like a camel. And that’s all well and good until you meet in person and realise that they were wearing heels at the time, the camel was half squatting, and in fact, on closer inspection the camel is not a camel at all, but a one of this guy’s mates in fancy dress wearing one of those horrific horse masks. What it comes down to, is the fact that anyone who says they’re 6’0 is a liar as this height doesn’t actually exist. They are DEFINITELY shorter.

So Mr CF2.0 suggested we meet for drinks one night. By this point I had been to quite a number of different bars on dates and was a littttttttle bit over it. I was probably also on a ‘health kick’ (LOLZ) so trying to limit my alcohol consumption. Either way, I told him to do better.

And he did, which I appreciated.

Mr CF2.0 organised for us to do a London Escape Room! Now, I know most people would not be into the idea of being locked in a room with a complete stranger. I did not feel this, because…BICEPS (would’ve loved to feel them though, amirite?!). And now that I think of it I’m pretty sure I actually cracked a joke about him punching a hole through the wall to get us out…..yeahhh.

We went to an awesome bar called Four Thieves in Battersea. It’s one of those novel places that has really irrelevant activities which are completely out of context (e.g., some miniature car racing things, mini golf…and an ESCAPE ROOM), but awesome when you’re smashed. I wasn’t, because I was apparently too busy ‘smashing’ something else; none other than Mr CF2.0’s ‘intelligence’ criteria. Anyway, we rocked up at this bar, and were told to look for ‘Gabriel’. We found said man. He was dressed in a top hat and had a mad beard. He very spookily told us to follow him into the depths of the mysterious wine cellar below the bar. He then very spookily looked at his super old-fashioned digital watch and realised his shift was up so he eerily walked off eithout explanation, only to be replaced by a female, also conveniently called ‘Gabriel’. I would be lying if I said the transition was seamless, and I was definitely disappointed that ‘man-Gabriel’ broke character by, you know, having a life outside his work. What a total dick.

The escape room itself was quite fun. ‘woman-Gabriel’ asked if we were the bravest explorers in London. I said yes. She asked if we were true detectives. I said yes. Then I remembered these were not the criteria I was trying to prove to Mr CF2.0. So I just reapplied my lipgloss and let him pretend to be the world’s greatest adventurer. Surely that would make him ‘#3: feel good about himself’? Mr CF2.0 and I were in there with another couple and turns out we were really shit. I felt bad for lying to ‘woman-Gabriel’ because I clearly was NOT a true detective or the bravest explorer in London. We ended up solving all the puzzles within about 30 seconds of them kicking us out. I impressed Mr CF2.0 with some musical skills, where we had to listen to a tune and play it on a xylophone (sorry if that was a spoiler!)- but too bad TALENT also was not one of Mr CF2.0’s Top 10 criteria.

Afterwards, we went for burgers and shakes (clearly the healthy alternative to alcohol-‘#2: takes care of herself’-TICK). Conversation was fine. Mr CF2.0 was fine. I can’t actually remember what we talked about though, so it really couldn’t have been that great. Or maybe I was distracted by PECS. We ended up hanging out for quite a while and got along well. He was a good looking guy, and had one of those posh English accents that just sounds so novel when used to say common peasant phrases like ‘I might just go to the toilet now’.

I left the date thinking that I’d happily meet up with him again. He sent a followup message just saying the usual ‘Lovely to meet you, had a great night because I am God, and God always has a great night.x’ (yes, there was an ‘x’, which is very important when you are messaging a God), to which I said something along the lines of ‘you too’.

Then I never heard from him again!

However, I did look up his blog (a fitness blog, what else?). I must say, he has terrible grammar.


Til next time,

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