Sam the Surgeon

Hi guys! Thanks for coming back to hear more about my disastrous dating life. For anyone who is here for the first time, you might want to skip back a chapter to hear the start of the story with Joey. In this post, I briefly touch on my short time with the super surgeon and how I ended up wearing the worst outfit known to man kind (not dramatic) to a date. I also tell you more about Joey and I’s whirlwind romance as it comes to a “sex toy filled” crash down ending (trust me, it is not as it sounds)…

A few days after my first date with Joey and the excited feeling still hadn’t worn off. We were still texting pretty much every minute of everyday and we had already arranged to see one another the following weekend. The week at work was again flying by and for some reason my work load seemed to have increased two fold (I think this may have been down to the fact I had spent the majority of the previous week on what’s app, but let’s breeze over that).

The weekdays went by and were like a ground hog of emails, gym, food and sleep. When Thursday finally came round and I left the office, I was ready to pass out on the central line. (Note. do not fall asleep on the central line, unless you would like to wake up without your belongings). As I squeezed onto the packed tube, my phone buzzed.


Oh shit… I had forgot to cancel my date with the surgeon.

“Hey B. So I have booked a restaurant for tonight. Looking forward to seeing you at 8pm”

Shitty shit fuck fuck. I couldn’t cancel now, it was far too late in the day. I checked the time, after pulling a late one it was already 7pm. I tried to calculate the time the journey back to my place would take, the journey back out to the restaurant and how much time that would leave me to get date ready. The answer…

Not an awful lot!

By the time I had rushed back, I basically had no time on the clock to even re-apply my make up, it was raining outside so I quickly brushed through my humidity ridden curls. I messaged Sam quickly.

“Where are we heading” I asked

“Hakkasan” he replied.

Now, for anyone who knows London well, Hakkasan isn’t an understated place. I looked down at my work attire and realised that not only did I have frizzy hair and very little make up – I was majorly under dressed for a Michelin star restauraunt, with no time to fix it. I quickly ordered a trusty Uber and searched my wardrobe for something to “fancy” up my outfit. As I realised my Toyota Prius was only minutes away, in a panic, I pulled out a long jacket with a fur collar (you heard me, fur collar, I don’t know what I was thinking either) and jumped into the taxi where I re-applied my make-up in near darkness.

When I finally arrived at the restaurant, I was extremely impressed with my timing skills and the fact I had managed to compose myself. I stepped out of the Uber, feeling rather pleased. See, it didn’t actually take that long to make yourself look hot …suddenly I caught myself in the window reflection…


Seriously, why had I reapplied my make up in the dark and worn a fur coat? I cringed internally, as a drag like Cruella De Ville started back at me. I always seemed to make quite the entrance to my dates and never for the right reasons?! I shrugged off the embarrassment and walked into the restaurant.

As I walked down the open stairway, I realised just how polished this place was (and how unpolished I was). Everything was straight edges, clean graphite surfaces, dim lights and the plates of food coming out of the kitchen looked prettier than the lip liner I had just applied. The hostess greeted me.

“Name please?” she asked. After replying with Sam’s name, she replied. “The other party is already here” I smiled politely and my stomach did a little flip. In my rush, I had actually forgotten I was meeting a real life person and as silly as it seems wearing the wrong outfit for a date had knocked my confidence. The hostess walked me to the table and there he was…

As he stood up to greet me, I realised that it was in fact Sam that was the most polished part of the restaurant. With clean cut hair, a cleaner cut tweed blazer and a crisp white shirt.  He stood up and cracked a smile with teeth whiter than his shirt, I immediately regretted my “rushed to get ready” approach. He was dreamy.

“Hi B” he smiled “Nice to meet you”

After we settled down and my Cruella De Ville/Vile cape had been removed by the hostess, we started to chat and I finally relaxed. Conversation flowed as Sam ordered a bottle of wine (that cost more than my weeks salary) and he told me about his life. I was seriously impressed. He was such an intelligent guy. He had studied at Cambridge, followed by his Masters in Harvard and then spent time out in California. If there were ever a game of Top Trumps in the education of medicine; Sam would have aced it.

I appreciate there are many women that look for certain qualities in a man to create that “Husband Material” (just a note on this, I totally disagree with the whole husband material vibe – you are massively excluding pretty amazing guys because of things like not being a home owner or not working in the perfect job, it’s silly. On another note, there is clinically zero possibility that I would be attracted to someone who was stable enough to be marriage material. I save that attention for the narcissist, cheating, immature, commitment phobe dream boats that sail around). lolz.

Anyway, Sam appeared to be pretty perfect in the imaginary husband list department…


Older, well-travelled, good looking, great job etc. (whatever it is that normal people look for) We talked more about his job, I knew he was a surgeon (but that was a pretty broad term) so I asked him about what he did.

“I’m currently working in the research side of science, so spend most of my day in a lab” he said.

“Wow” I replied, taking a sip of the wine I couldn’t really afford to drink “What type of research?”

“Stem cell growth” he explained “We are currently looking at how we can use stem cells to grow limbs” ….


If I have ever felt like I am adding no value to society, the date with Sam confirmed that I indeed was not.

Growing limbs? I couldn’t grow my hair to an acceptable length.

Anyway, I struggled to not spit my wine out (I shouldn’t given the price), I was so impressed.

As the night continued, I really enjoyed Sam’s company but it was so obvious our lives were worlds apart. And guiltily, I was so tired from the week, I wanted to get home (and admittedly) message Joey (I know that is terrible).

When the cheque finally came (along with my gross Cruella De Ville coat) Sam paid for the whole bill. I found it embarrassing that I couldn’t offer to pay half (shame on you girls who expect to be paid for) but I genuinely think my card would have declined at the cost. As I walked out of the restaurant, I had firmly decided that Sam and Hakkasan weren’t for me. I wanted the diner and cheeky curly haired man! (The story of my life ladies and gents).

Although I had decided that Sam wasn’t me, it was pretty obvious Sam hadn’t come to that conclusion too. As we headed up the stairs and out into central, he put his arm round me…


I knew we weren’t on the same wave length, so declined more drinks and waited patiently on my Uber. Sam waited with me for the taxi to arrive and we said good night. He was such a gent and I’m sure is going to make some limb growing, polo playing babe extremely happy but that one isn’t me.

As I headed back, exhausted in the taxi, I messaged Joey – I was now even more excited about seeing him and when the second date came round we had an equally amazing “sparky” time.

The dates continued that way, we got dressed up, went to bars, ate great food and didn’t stop laughing. Four great dates went by quickly (along with four great date kisses) but it was now getting to the stage where I kind of wanted the dates to run into the next day (ya get me ladies) and felt four dates was a pretty acceptable timeframe (check out our Podcast tomorrow on “It’s a numbers game” that may have changed slightly).

After four amazing dates, who could have know that Joey and I would come to such a turbulent and dildo filled (it isn’t as great as it sounds, trust me) end?

Again, thanks for reading and enjoy the next (and last) post on Joey!








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A twenty - something (seven) single year old living the London life. My life consists of eating and wanting to stay thin, wanting to party and also eat pizza alone in bed, working hard or hardly working and dating. My blog is around mental health, life in London, dating, brunching and on the odd occasion stalking dogs! Enjoy - it has been as fun living it as it had writing it <3

4 thoughts on “Sam the Surgeon”

  1. Ha! Top stuff, I totally understand how two top people in their own rights can give off such different vibes. I’m a sucker for good banter – there HAS to be a better word for it somewhere, though!!!

    And taking you to dinner Hakkasan on a first date, well, that’s a bit OTT for me.


    1. Thanks Glen, I really appreciate you reading ☺️ and, yes, agreed, there needs to be a better word than banter. But it’s the truth hey? Hakkasan was a bit scary as a first date and just showed we were on very different waves. Hope you enjoy the finale of Joey x


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