Cal the Criminal

Hi guys,

Thanks for coming back again and sorry for the slight delay, LA has been too fun! Enjoy my next disaster date, this was one of my faves…

Following a slightly painful start back on the dating scene, my faith certainly hadn’t been restored in the world of love. I was now a year and half down the line of being single and as I am sure you can well imagine, had become fairly skeptical as to if there truly were any good guys out there. I had deleted any form of dating app in my phone,I think most people tend to have a bit of a love hate relationship with them anyway (check out our podcast on apps) and was extremely cautious as to who I was willing to go on a date with. After spending a night with a TV presenter that basically made me never want to watch TV again, I had made the decision, that unless there was one hundred million percent something there, I would not be going on a date. As such, I hadn’t seen a date in while. 

So, I am sure you can imagine my delight when on a night out in Liverpool Street, the tallest darkest most  handsome man came over to the bar. All of the girls (me included) swooned as he walked by and for the first time since my last disaster date, I have to admit, I was pretty giddy when the tall dark handsome suited stranger bought me a drink and asked me out on a date. 

Turns out my dreamy drink buyer was called Cal and as we chatted over drinks, Cal became more and more of a catch. He was out celebrating his last day working as a commodities trader in one office as he had been headhunted to a larger organisation to take over a bigger portfolio. He lived in Notting Hill, but was staying in a hotel in central due to moving to his new place in West. Now, I know we shouldn’t have tick list ladies, but so far…

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As the next weekend came round, I was looking forward to meeting Cal again, he had actually been pretty charming and seemed (dare I say it) normal to talk to. I met him at a bar in central and as I shuffled my way through the busy entrance, I caught a glimpse of him, already with a table, looking all chiseled and hot and stuff, with my glass of processo already on hand (what a dream boat!). 

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I cozied up on the sofa next to Cal and felt relaxed as our conversation was great. He was so easy to talk to. We caught up on our weeks plans and was excited to hear more about his new job. 

“So” I asked “Tell me more about the new job” 

“Ah” he said, sipping his processo “Well, technically, I haven’t actually got a new job yet. I have a restrictive clause in my contract so have to wait until that runs up, but I just know  the bigger competitor want me”

I eyed him, I work in HR and know that a restrictive clause doesn’t stop you getting a new job. Not quite as he had initially explained, but hey, maybe it was drunk talk when we had initially met, although we had been speaking over whats app most of the week and that hadn’t been mentioned.

I shook it off and picked up the bottle of prosecco to pour myself another glass, I was slightly surprised when a trickle of bubbles dripped into the remainder of my glass. The bottle was empty. Had Cal nailed a bottle of bubbly before I had got there?! I had heard of first date nerves and all, but if I had done a bottle of prosecco before a date, I wouldn’t just be relaxed, I would be asleep, no doubt nursing a pizza box. Cal must have seen my look of surprise on my face (as I do not have a poker face) and ordered another bottle to the table. 

As the date and conversation continued, I was now quite aware of how quickly Cal could put away a prosecco. After another bottle was turned upside down in the cooler (in this time I had managed half a glass), I decided to slow my sips as I watched Cal start on another bottle. 

As quickly as the prosecco was going down, Cal was also knocking out some revelations that he had failed to mention over the course of the week. I asked him what he was doing the following weekend… 

“Ah, I will probably just be looking after my son” (second fail to mention). Now I have nothing against people having children but was fairly surprised as Cal continued. “Yeah” he sligthly slurred “He’s a great kid, I can’t believe he is starting high school next year.” Ladies Cal was 25 at the time, his kid was nearly 11. You do the math. 


As the conversation continued, more revelations followed. After establishing that Cal was unemployed, had a child he had failed to mention and had evidently been a little promiscuous in his early years, we then moved onto the subject of hobbies… 

“Well, I have a fairly interesting hobby and I’ve actually made money from it for a while”. Ooo, now that did sound interesting; who doesn’t love an entrepreneur? I am all about doing what you love and what a bonus if you can make a profit from it! Turned out (just like Cal) it wasn’t quite what I was expecting… 

“I play Poker, semi professionally” Okay, so some people may think that is cool, but honestly, it just did nothing for me, I don’t even know how to play and with a face like a story book, I can’t imagine that I would be much good either. I tried to sound interested… 

“Wow, that is different” polite but not false response. “How did you get into that? I asked. 

Cal continued… “Well I actually couldn’t drive for a little while and struggled to get a job” 


I saw where this was heading… 

“Oh” I responded, perturbed. “And why was that?” Need I even ask? I knew what was coming… 

“Ah, I was actually banned from driving” I took a big gulp of prosecco. 


“Oh” I said, trying to sound relaxed (totally not relaxed). “Drink driving?” 

Cal looked offended at my question. “Good god no!” he responded as he nailed down another prosecco. “It was speeding, I was doing 90” 

Ah, not as bad as I thought…

“In a 20 zone” he finished. 

There we go, 90 in a school zone..

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Well, at least Cal’s drunk revelations had yet again confirmed that dating in London was basically a trip to the circus where I could have my pick of who’s who from the freak show. I sipped my prosecco and wondered if other girls had this kind of luck dating, Carl continued to jabber on about his speeding and how it was difficult not to speed in Audi RS4 (chav). I was done being polite… 

“You do know you could have killed someone and lucky you didn’t go to prison!” I snapped. 

He leaned back and as smoothly as he had talked in the bar when we initially met dropped the line.. 

“Yeah babe and I certainly don’t want to be going back there” 


And that ladies and gents was the end of that date. 

After a year and a half of dating, it was official, I was done with it. Following Cal, I actually spent a good few months to myself and was genuinely a lot happier alone than I was dating (we’ve all been there). It is actually rather amusing when you are single, that your married/long term relationship friends treat you like a pity case “You will meet some one when you least it expect it” or “Don’t worry, you have time” 

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I remember one day in the office, a colleauge came out with a great line. “Why don’t you try falling for your best friend? Or go for someone outside of your usual type?” 

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At the time, I though my friend was being beyond dumb. Surely, if I had any guy friends where we had thought there was potential, both parties would have noticed by now? And why would I fancy someone who wasn’t my type? Turns out, that was exactly what happened next. 

The next couple of posts (and another to follow later down the line) are all about my Work Wife and the little saga that will always ensure I give the recommendation not to date some one from the office….

As always, thanks for reading 



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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 “Cal the Criminal”

  1. Not to relish in your misfortune but… That was hilarious! OMG I loved it (but also didn’t, you know what I mean). All Cals are douches, I know 3 (counting yours) and am now certain of this fact.


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