The date was already a disaster – then he brought out the tomato

I was looking to broaden my pool, have some fun dates, and hopefully, find love (Picture: Eleanor Biggs) It was a sweltering evening in early August 2021 and my date and I were standing on the edge of a busy road in Peckham. We could smell BBQ grilling nearby, and hear the shouts of happy revellers, drunk on cheap beer and sunshine. I wished I was one of them. My date with Fabio* had been a total disaster, and I was ready to go home. I thought we were poised to say our goodbyes. But then he reached into his pocket – and brought out a tiny Tupperware containing a single cherry tomato. I was dumbfounded. ‘Eat it,’ he urged me, while bikes whizzed past us. ‘It’s the first one from my garden, and I want you to have it.’ I looked down at the homegrown tomato. The small red ball stared back. My mind was racing. How did I get here? Fabio and I met on Hinge. He wasn’t my usual type, but when I came across his profile during a random lunchtime swipe session I decided to give him a chance. I’d been casually dating for a while, and was looking to broaden my pool, have some fun dates, and hopefully, find love. Judging from Fabio’s profile, he seemed nice, even wholesome. I remember thinking, why not? It was becoming clear to me that Fabio and I weren’t compatible (Picture: Eleanor Biggs) Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. We exchanged numbers and pretty soon he was texting me every day – sending updates about his garden, of which he seemed incredibly proud. He was clearly very keen, writing things like, ‘the sunflowers remind me of you’. I thought he was coming on a bit strong, and it made me nervous. He called me his ‘muse,’ did a painting in my honour – an abstract orange canvas, mirroring the orange background of my WhatsApp profile picture, and asked me what my spirit animal was (according to the quiz he sent me, he was a butterfly, and I was a wolf). It was becoming clear to me we weren’t compatible. After all, a wolf and a butterfly would never date. But I felt bad. After messaging for a month, I thought we should at least meet in person to give him the benefit of the doubt. My people-pleasing tendencies insisted I stay for one more drink (Picture: Eleanor Biggs) He suggested getting a drink in Peckham one evening after work. When we initially met, I was in for a shock – because he didn’t look anything like his pictures. However, he was warm and friendly, and clearly excited to see me. We went to a local bar and ordered a cocktail. Almost immediately he made me cringe by giving me the nickname ‘little lion’, due to my mass of curly blonde hair. Then he put his arm around me while we sipped our drinks. 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 My people-pleasing tendencies insisted I stay for one more drink. Despite my discomfort, it felt rude to leave so soon. But by hour two, I fully had the ick. The last straw was when he complimented my ‘beautiful blue eyes.’ When I corrected him – my eyes are green – he told me I was ‘wrong’. I doubt I’ll ever have a better dating story to tell at the pub (Picture: Eleanor Biggs) I escaped to the toilet to message my friend. ‘This date is messing with my sense of reality!!,’ I typed, frantically. Her reply pinged back: ‘Get out of there!’ I walked back over to the table, drained my glass, and suggested calling it a night. His face fell. ‘But…I thought we were going to get ice cream?’ ‘No,’ I lied. ‘I have a work thing tomorrow…’ Then, once we’d walked out of the bar, he brought out the tomato in its Tupperware box, and our fruit-based standoff began. I tried to say no to the tomato, I really did. But he was insistent – and physically intimidating, looming over me, the tiny Tupperware in his palm making him seem even more huge. So I did the only thing I could think of to make him stop. I ate the tomato. Once I did, we finally said goodbye. The tomato felt lodged in my throat as I croaked out, ‘Ok, now I really have to go’ – and this time, he didn’t put up a fight. I flew down the street, feeling euphoric the date was finally over. It was only when I got home that the worry set in. Was there any chance the tomato could have been spiked with something? I quickly texted my friend, who assured me ‘roofie-by-tomato’ was pretty unlikely. When no symptoms developed overnight or the next day, I realised I would probably be OK; and that it probably really was just a tomato. That was five years ago now. I never heard from Fabio again, but I’ve often wondered where he got the idea to bring me that tomato. But I guess I’ll never know. As for me, the search for love continues. But I doubt I’ll ever have a better dating story to tell at the pub. *Name has been changed Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing izzie.price@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below. Arrow MORE: I dated someone obsessed with Princess Diana – he wanted me to look like her Arrow MORE: ‘Olfactophilia’ is the stinky fetish most Brits are secretly putting their noses to Arrow MORE: I know he’s a chauvinist, but he does things to me in bed no one else has