The date was going well – until he shared his thoughts on breastfeeding

‘I’m still breastfeeding my son’ I said, ‘and he’s almost two’ (Picture: Getty Images)

‘Don’t you think it’s strange that Laura* is still breastfeeding? Her child is massive now.’

John* casually asked me this halfway through our first date, after ordering some local oysters for himself.

Laura had her first child almost one and a half years ago, five months after I’d had my son – a regular age to still be breastfeeding. 

I looked at him, confused. I was surprised he was talking about her in this way, she was, after all, the person who had set us up on this blind date.

‘Don’t get me wrong she’s got great tits, but surely that kid’s too old?’

That was the kicker.

I was stunned and appalled that a man who was pushing at least 50 years old, as well as being an educated and successful businessman, would come out with such an infantile statement.

I took a long swig of my alcohol-free melon ball and considered my response.

‘I’m still breastfeeding my son’ I said, ‘and he’s almost two’.

He stayed silent and focused on the live sea creature sliding down his throat, likely disappointed that I hadn’t just agreed with him.

Laura had warned me that he could be provocative.

At this point, I’d been safely single for those life-changing first few years of my son’s life, so our mutual friend, Laura, had set us up and she’d literally pushed me into it. She had told me I needed some fun, as it’s so hard being a single mum.

I sucked it up and gave him the benefit of the doubt (Picture: Violet Malice)

I had refused at first because I didn’t want to go through the whole process of sitting and talking to a man I didn’t know.

But then I caved in – she was right, I deserved a distraction from the turmoil and drudgery of everyday life.

She told me he was sophisticated, intelligent, charming and loaded.

She added that if romance failed to show its face, if nothing else, I’d get some top-notch grub out of it and a chance to dress up – have a night without my child’s sick on my shoulders.

John booked the Pearly Cow in Margate and had travelled down from London especially. So, I assumed it was a big deal and we were going to dress up. Until I saw him.

He stood at the end of Margate pier, in a burnt orange puffer jacket from Mountain Warehouse.

I started to feel slightly hopeful that we might have a laugh at least (Picture: Violet Malice)

I was insulted – I had dressed up in the best thing I owned: a sleek black coat with faux fur cuffs and a nice vintage chiffon number lurking underneath, and he looked like a traffic cone.

If I could have turned the bus around there and then, I would have.

But I sucked it up and gave him the benefit of the doubt. 

I gaslit myself into thinking I was over dressed since I hadn’t been on anything that resembled a date for at least five years. 

Greeting him at the end of the pier, he said that it was pretty cold so I jokingly told him I’d spotted his coat from about two miles away. He didn’t even smile. 

Up close, he was not altogether unattractive, so I started to feel slightly hopeful that we might have a laugh at least.

But in the restaurant, things took a turn.

After his hideous comment about our mutual friend, I was immediately turned off (Picture: Violet Malice)

At first, the conversation was pretty strained. He wanted to talk about fine wine because he was going on some exclusive wine tasting course for sommeliers the next day. I tried my best to appear interested. 

But, after his hideous comment about our mutual friend Laura, I was immediately turned off.

I couldn’t just let him say that, so I came in with facts.

I told him that the World Health Organization recommends that infants be breastfed to two years old and beyond, and that it’s a great thing to do if you can.

He continued eating as I spoke, seemingly ignorant to my distaste of him.

I watched him scrape the chimichurri sauce off his Côte de Boeuf and then slice the bleeding meat into thin equally proportioned strips.

‘I get the impression that you’re thinking that women are getting their boobs out to feed their babies as some sort of power play. Exhibitionism even. Let me reassure you that breastfeeding is not about you.’

We sat in silence for what felt like ages. It felt like he got a kick out of uncomfortable silences.

I was just starting to think about how I might make a sharp exit when he announced that he was too full up for dessert, but that he would be willing to share the burnt Basque cheesecake with me if I was up for it.

I told him that I’m lactose intolerant but made a joke about sharing some fish and chips on the way home, alluding to the small portions on our plates.

He pulled a slight grimace that could have been gas. 

He didn’t seem to like my attempts to make him laugh or lighten the mood.

Then, before he paid the bill, he decided to give me another reason to make a run for it.

‘I just want to give you some feedback,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t help but notice that you’re not a sharer and that’s a big turn off for me, particularly as I’m paying.’

But I did. 

I had offered all of my food and drink up for him to taste but he had refused. I told him as much, and he acknowledged that I had indeed offered him a bit of everything – but, in his opinion, I hadn’t pushed hard enough.

I just sat there in disbelief until it was time to leave.

He got the train back to London and I got the bus home.

I instantly text Laura: ‘I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it. He’s a classic knob. I wouldn’t say he’s charming or kind, more self-assured and disrespectful.’

She was so embarrassed that he’d behaved so badly that I didn’t have the heart to tell her what he’d said about her. 

Thankfully, I never heard from him again.

Nor have I let Laura set me up with anyone. Lesson learned.

*Names have been changed

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

Share your views in the comments below.

Comments Add as preferred source