The WORST tinder date I have ever had

I had been bursting for a piss, but I was unwilling to give up my place by the busy bar, waiting to be served. The bar was dark and made of solid wood, its selves stock with labels barely visible under the dim lights. The chatter of people grew louder as I looked around one more time hoping my date would turn up out of the blue behind me, but I had to make an effort to hide my disappointment.

“Only 45 minutes late,” I thought to myself.
I finally got served and ordered a cider, as I figured it would taste better than Guinness or Beer if in the unlikely event, known as "the kiss", occurred in the least romantic place in Kilkenny... but at this rate just seeing her would have been enough.
I brought my fine frosty beverage with me to the bathroom, as I had my drink spiked when I was drinking in a different country.
Naturally when I say this, a batch of nasty drugs comes to mind, and I would almost be fine with letting you imagine me hallucinating in some dingy ally somewhere... but the truth is far more embarrassing. Some sadistic bitch spiked me with Viagra in a club and must have been watching from a distance as I tried to dance but kept getting abnormally aroused. I ended up sitting in the car, sober, horny and trying work out if it would be any help trying to ease the situation manually... and if so, where could I do it without getting arrested.

You always get funny looks when you walk out of the men’s bathroom holding a pint... especially when the beverage is a yellowy-orange colour and bubbling.
I decided to stand away from the bar, but with a decent view of the room... and with that idea... I spotted her in a corner. She was chatting and laughing with a much taller man than me (at 5’11, hardly a difficult find); and then I saw where her hand run from his chest to south of the belt.

I wasn’t sure at first... in fact I had to whip out my phone and check her pictures on tinder and compare them like a passport inspector.
“Yep, that’s her...” I thought to myself.
“Fuck sake!” I cursed out loud, as I turned my back and took a gulp of the cider.
I meandered around hoping to bump into someone friendly, but it never happened. I was somewhat annoyed to say the least... she seemed like a nice girl.
I went back to my house-share, my bed still in need of christening.
I ended up back on tinder that very night, and had already lined up a date for the next night.

I woke up, went to work, knowing I had to meet this girl outside the Castle in the centre of town after 6. The fact she had picked somewhere outside and away from a bar excited me, as so far I hadn’t come across anyone who wanted to meet outside of one.
I had to go home after work, change out of my funeral-clothes, and try and fit in some food.
I managed to get to the castle early and scoped it out a little.

I am seriously fascinated by history and how such monumental buildings evolved over time, and this one was stunning. It had clearly been used as a home until relatively recently judging by the architecture.

“Elduder?” I turned, realising that the sun had been blocked out by the girl calling my name. She must have been around 6’6 height-wise and waist-wise. She had dark hair and was dressed in a black jacket and shirt with a black scarf, completing the look with a black pair of leggings. This looked nothing like the girl I matched on tinder...

“Samantha, its nice to meet you,” I said, with a beaming smile, as she hugged me, trying to suffocate with her brick-breaking breasts. She giggled as she pulled away.
“You’re more handsome than I thought you would be,” she shyly murmured, swaying side to side like a school girl.

I laughed it off and made the suggestion to go to a quiet bar somewhere, where she immediately ordered a cocktail.
We talked, had a bit of a laugh and she seemed nice... but by cocktail number three to my two Guinness’s, I was starting to see a different side to her. Her giggle turned from shy to almost evil, she began touching me up, and making sexual jokes which I would find funny if it wasn’t coming from someone who had the physical strength needed to rape me.
I just wrote it off as her being drunk, and right enough I noticed her stumble slightly when she got up. We went up to the bar to pay, when suddenly, my nostrils got bombarded with a sharp sweaty odour. I paid quickly and we made it outside to the fresh air, but I could still smell a hint of it.

Samantha didn’t seem to notice at all, as she grabbed my arm and tugged on it sharply. She was drunk alright.
“Will you walk me home?” she asked with puppy dog eyes in a Doberman’s face.
But then suddenly, before I could answer, she grabbed my head in her massive hands and yanked it to her lips, as she stooped down to devour me. She tried sticking her tongue down my throat... that too abnormally long and large.
“Wow there, Samantha! We’ve just met, lets not spoil it...” I really didn’t know what to say to her. I mean I was repulsed by her all of a sudden, as if the smell from the bar wasn’t bad enough.
She didn’t seem phased by this and kept on chattering like nothing happened.

We got to her house... I was fighting many urges not to just run/jog away from her. We got to her front door and she seemed almost sober all of a sudden. She fished her keys out and opened the door.
She turned to look at me, grabbed my hands and dragged me into the house.
And then it hit me again... the smell from the bar. I gagged as I realised with horror, it was coming from her.
I knew I should have ran.
“Listen, Samantha, we don’t really know each other and we have just met.”
She refused to let go of my hands as she listened with a creepy grin on her face. Damn, that was a tight grip, thinking about it.
“Well thats fine, do you want a drink?”
It was like someone flipped a switch in her and she went back to being harmlessly drunk as she stumbled into the kitchen. I followed cautiously, as she pulled out a bottle of coke and vodka...
“Maybe just one,” I told myself.
The kitchen had plates stacked high, waiting to be putting in the dishwasher, but outsde was a beautiful little garden with decking and a BBQ.
I asked her about it but she was more interested in finding a Harry Potter movie to watch.
The smell that emanated off her was over-powering, but the vodka helped. Pretty quickly she had another two glasses of the stuff before I could finish my first.
I tried to leave, but she insisted on me having another drink. What was the harm? She was drinking faster than I could and would be passed out before the end of the movie.

She was a nice enough girl, excusing the drunk rapey-vibe and smell she gave off, but I was just not attracted to her.
Eventually the vodka disappeared and she asked me to help her up the stairs... I really didn’t want to... but then again, I would have felt bad watching her fall down them.
So we went up together, the smell of her still going strong. Her room was the first door in the hall.
I should have ran... and deep down I knew it.
A light illuminated the mess which she called her room. There was a corner with a dresser that was covered in marks left from her makeup. The other corner, to my surprise, had pizza boxes stacked high... and the smell... good god, the smell. Dirty clothes, bra, panties and god knows what else littered the floor, as well as the odd empty can dotted about the place like a “Where’s Waldo” picture.
She flopped out onto the bed... and to my utter horror, started ripping her clothes off, revealing rolls of fat that had been hidden by tight layers. She couldn’t get her leggings off faster and within 20 second was lying naked infront of me. She opened her legs and flashed what looked like a bulldog yawning, as I inwardly cursed, my heart pounding in my chest like a stampede of horses galloping.
I was frozen in fear... holding my jacket.
“You coming in?”
“I need some water, I’ll be back in a sec,” I gagged, as I quietly went down the stairs and tried the frontdoor... which was locked.

I was in so much shock that I just stood there for a few seconds... weighing up in my mind whether to smash a window to get out, or except that I was about to be raped.
Then it hit me... the back garden.
I bolted into the kitchen and was relieved to find the back door open.
The garden was surrounded on all sides by a fence, which I had hopped over like a recently freed bunny. I must have had to jump into nine or ten gardens before I finally got to a field, once getting shouted at by someone who must have thought I was trying to burgle the place. I felt a rush of relief as I saw streetlights, then a LIDL and then a road. I never stopped running until I found a kebab shop that was still open.
I went in and went back on tinder. But couldn’t bring myself to talk to any matches.
The next day, I had a message from Samantha:
“Hey, sorry I passed out XP Want to meet up tonight?”
I left the country for an unrelated reason soon after that, but I didn’t feel safe until I got to France.