Confessions of a Serial Dater: My Date Tried To Deport Me
When I went out with Mike a couple weeks ago, he took me to a cool rooftop bar overlooking the river, and we got along really well. So, when he asked me on a second date, I said yes.
However, this wasn’t exactly the date I had in mind.
After searching around the block a bit, we finally found the address he was searching for–310B. The door read “Detective Evans and Peel” in a faded black font. He rang the buzzer cautiously and told the voice on the other end that he had an appointment at 7:00 pm.
Expecting a loud murmur upon entry, I was instead greeted by silence and an eerily dark staircase. When we reached the bottom (and I managed to not fall on my face in the darkness), we entered an office. A man sat in an old-fashioned desk with vintage photographs surrounding him and stared at us menacingly.
“What brings you here?” He asked
My date explained that I was American and I had been acting suspiciously, taking trips around Europe on the weekends with no explanation, etc. The detective asked me if this was true, and I tried to explain myself before answering further questions. After the interrogation seemed to be over, the man told me that he was going to have to question me in a separate room. He picked up a book on his large bookcase, which spun around like a door into a restaurant.
Phew–I wasn’t being deported after all!
Obviously, I could tell shortly after entering the “detectives office” that it was some sort of speak-easy, but it was definitely the most legit one that I’ve ever been to! He was also lucky that I was the chick that he brought there, because I know lots of other girls that would freak out and think they were in a scene from Taken. Definitely points for originality, as a serial dater I can only go to a plain old wine bar so many times before it gets old…Although, don’t you think on a second date a girl deserves some food? Since we met at 6:30 I had assumed we were getting dinner, but I ended up having two cocktails for dinner instead (unless you count the bowl of popcorn they served us).
In summary: I’m still legally staying in London, will probably still go out with this guy again, but need to be fed properly next time…or the claws will come out!