I wanted to sneak out of my date’s flat – instead we had the most awkward goodbye

It was a relief to head home, until I felt a tide of vomit rise from my stomach (Picture: Georgia Lewis) It was 10am on December 31, 2002, and I was driving along one of Sydney’s busiest roads covered in my own vomit: a slimy mix of white wine and deep-fried camembert. I knew I would not be seeing in 2003 with last night’s date. I had met John* online, on an Australian dating site. He was in his 30s, English and good-looking in a posh, rosy-cheeked way. He described himself as an ‘understated person’ in his profile despite having a job in luxury goods, so I got in touch. Soon, we were enjoying lovely dinners together. John was a perfect gentleman – lots of chaste kisses and hand-holding. I knew he lived in a loft apartment with water views and had children from a previous relationship. Aged 25, I’d never dated a dad, but I got carried away, thinking I could be a cool step-mum. I liked that he seemed refreshingly free of ego and seemed to take a genuine interest in me, asking me questions rather than constantly talking about himself. Over a romantic pre-Christmas beachside lunch, he invited me to visit his flat on the night before New Year’s Eve, telling me I could park in his visitor space. This seemed like a very promising fifth date, although he didn’t go into detail about his plans for the evening, I smugly assumed we might spend New Year’s Eve together. I’d never dated a dad, but I got carried away, thinking I could be a cool step-mum (Picture: Georgia Lewis) December 30 rolled around. My parents were visiting at the time, and I’d told them all about John and the date. They’re not naive prudes, so I said not to wait up as I merrily drove away. When I arrived at his fancy building, John opened the garage door with a remote control and we ascended to his place in the lift. The water view was impressive. Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. I would have loved a romantic night in and a takeaway, as there was no evidence he’d ever cooked in his minimalist kitchen, but he suggested we go out for a drink. While his address was upmarket, it was a short walk to a seedier area, where he took me. The bar was scruffy, but I didn’t throw a diva strop. After lashings of deep-fried camembert and a couple of bottles of white wine, I was happily sloshed. John’s revelation left me stunned (Picture: Georgia Lewis) Encouragingly, John suggested we go back to his when last orders were called. We sat on his sofa, the bay twinkling before us. There was a moment of silence, which he broke by telling me I was very sexy – but before I could respond, he morphed into Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral. ‘Oh God, I’m really sorry, I just can’t,’ he stammered. ‘You can’t what?’ I asked, wondering if he was about to confess to erectile dysfunction. ‘I can’t… With you. There’s no wow factor,’ he replied. ‘No wow factor?’ John was babbling that he couldn’t continue seeing me ‘because I really need the wow factor.’ ‘Bloody hell…’ I said, stunned at the change of tone. It took all my self-control not to look back or wave as I drove off (Picture: Georgia Lewis) Then he said it was OK, because he didn’t have the wow factor with his ex either. ‘The mother of your children?! Well, at least I didn’t pop out babies before you had this revelation!’ I yelled. After another pause, I said, ‘Well, I’m going to have to crash here. I can’t drive home.’ His sofa was hard and small, so we both slept in his bed, which was huge. All I removed were my shoes and earrings before I got onto, rather than into, bed – lying as far away from him as possible without headbutting the designer bedside table. So, How Did It Go? So, How Did It Go? is a weekly Metro.co.uk series that will make you cringe with second-hand embarrassment or ooze with jealousy as people share their worst and best date stories. Want to spill the beans about your own awkward encounter or love story? Contact izzie.price@metro.co.uk Unsurprisingly, I didn’t sleep well and woke up feeling appalling. I thought I was going to throw up – but when I ran to his en-suite, I got stage fright. My body refused to vomit in his presence. I couldn’t sneak out while he slept because he had to open the garage door. Mercifully, he woke up soon after me and made me a cuppa in his barely-there kitchen. Neither of us said a word. I just gripped my mug and stared straight ahead, not making any eye contact. Once my tea was gone, I asked him to let me into the garage. An awkward silence filled the lift on the way down. I mumbled a terse good-bye and walked to my car. It took all my self-control not to look back or wave as I drove off. I started 2003 feeling incredibly single (Picture: Georgia Lewis) It was a relief to head home, until I felt a tide of vomit rise from my stomach. Looking ahead, there were green lights as far as the eye could see – the one time I wanted a red light in Sydney so I could puke out the car window. I slowed down, hoping the lights would change, but no such luck. As I clamped my hand over my mouth, viscous vomit flooded out. It seeped between my thighs onto the sheepskin car seat cover and spattered down my top. Everything I touched in the car became slippery. My parents had gone out, so I could at least clean myself and my car without interrogation. By the time they returned, I was in the foetal position on my bed, wearing a bathrobe. Mum popped her head in my bedroom door and I said, ‘Just because I didn’t come home last night, it doesn’t mean the date went well.’ She listened patiently to my sorry tale and said it was probably for the best because she was sure I didn’t want a boyfriend with kids. I nodded mournfully. Then it dawned on me that it was New Year’s Eve and I had no plans. I was too embarrassed to call my friends, but I knew my parents were having dinner at a local Thai place with a friend of the family. So I swallowed what remained of my pride and asked Mum if I could join them. I started 2003 feeling incredibly single, but I didn’t cancel my online dating membership. That happened later in 2003, after a disastrous lunch where I was asked to guess how much my date’s shirt cost. But that’s another story. 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