Is 11.30am on a Sunday a good time for a first date?

No it's not. But keep reading for how the suggestion led to 🤯 dating wisdom and (less wisely) to a date at Pret

My Sunday morning vibe

I think, in general, I’m against morning people. I don’t mind waking up early (within reason), I just don’t want people to talk to me first thing. I start my days peacefully by reading, journaling or writing. I rarely leave the house in the morning, even though the healthy people on podcasts say it’s good for you. So with that in mind, I was rather perturbed when a guy on Hinge proposed we meet for a first date at 11.30 am on a Sunday. 

A few things annoyed me about this. One, it’s too early (for me). Two, he didn’t ask if that time would suit me; instead, he informed me that his yoga class was from 10.30 am to 11.30 am, and so he could meet at 11.30. Which is ruder: slotting me in without asking or not showering before a date?

MY yoga class that I sometimes go to on a Sunday morning finishes at 11.45 am. After my class, I’d have to go home, shower, eat something, get ready, and then travel to the date. The earliest I could meet is around 2 pm. However, in the spirit of trying to be open-minded (which never works), I agreed. A friend said maybe he’d shower at the yoga studio. That’s even worse if so—he planned to be late.

As well as morning dates, I hate walking dates, which was also his suggestion. I want to sit opposite or next to a person in flattering lighting and build a frisson in a sexy atmosphere with some eye contact. I don’t want to be cold and dodging cyclists and couples holding coffee cups on the Hackney canal on a Sunday. 

I wasn’t looking forward to my walking date at 11.30 am on a Sunday. I know that if I fancied him, it’d be a different story. It’s a bit ‘chicken and egg’ when it comes to the ick. Perhaps if he’d gone about it differently or I fancied him hugely, I’d be thinking how great it was that he wanted to meet after yoga. Maybe I’d be excited to be in the company of his post-yoga sweat. But alas, the vibes were off. 

Anyway, he texted me instructing me where to meet at 11.30 am with a ‘see you there.’ I appreciate this is fine for most people, but it bothered me. I felt like he was telling me what to do and I didn’t want to go. 

I faced a dilemma. On the one hand, I argued, I felt very negatively towards this person. On the other hand, this was a low-stakes date. Obviously, I had nothing better to do at this time, it was fairly local and would be a short amount of time.

‘Why not?’ I said,

‘It’s low stakes.’

Then my friend (it was

Anna Codrea-Rado

) said an absolute stroke of genius. It needs to be on billboards across London. 

She said:  

‘There’s no such thing as a low-stakes date.’

Have truer words ever been spoken? 

I think not. 

I breathed a sigh of relief, cancelled on him and rebooked my yoga class. I had a jolly Sunday, happy with my decision. Sometime later, he instructed me to come to a cafe one weekday morning where he’d be working. I told him no, that was my writing time. He has yet to be in touch to ask when might suit me to meet. I imagine this guy is going to be efficiently dating for a while. Or maybe he doesn’t like me enough to make a proper plan? In this case, don’t talk to me (at any hour). 

A single friend of mine pointed out that people have an urge to give the other person’s point of view or defend them when it comes to dating. This is annoying. Comments on this post defending 11.30 am guy aren’t welcome. The point is, that dating takes up a lot of energy and I’m within my rights to use my instincts to preserve it. 

I need to get ready, which takes ages because sometimes my skin is bad and I have no clothes. I also get pre-date nerves, so can’t focus on anything else in the run-up to a date. Then there’s the energy when I’m actually on the date. I also have to use my very limited brain space for any difficult conversations or messages that have to happen after the date. 

To accept the genius that there is no low-stakes date is freeing. 

My body reacts strongly when men on dating apps piss me off. People often advise me to override this feeling, which is why I talk to few people about dating. People mean well, but essentially they’re telling you not to listen to yourself and go out and have a shit evening. Why should I lower my standards just because so many men out there aren’t able to meet them? Finding the right person is more about holding your nerve than it is about meeting as many people as possible.  

Because here’s the thing, when you fancy the person, you’re not texting your friends asking if you should go on the date or not and you’re not complaining about the time of the date or the venue. As I learned when I found myself in the afternoon on a weekday on the way to a date at Pret. 

Imagine how good his photos were for me to agree to a date at Pret. 

Some other key differences to highlight beyond looks before you’re all like: ‘Tiffany is so superficial, that’s why she’s alone.’ etc. Pret guy had asked what time would suit me and he came to my area for the date.

He’d arrived early and couldn’t find a space in the trendy cafe I’d proposed, so he went to work at Pret instead. I live in Dalston, literally the city’s hub of trendy cafes. Pret was a bizarre choice, but I was intrigued because he had good arms (in his photos).

I’d never set foot in the Pret on the Kingsland Road in and it’s often quite busy and I’m so curious as to how and why. There aren’t offices in the area and its average sandwiches and coffees aren’t even priced competitively. It remains an unsolved mystery, alongside the popularity of Costa coffee places across the UK.

As there’s no such thing as a low-stakes date, I found myself unable to concentrate on my work in the hours leading up to the date. I had to get ready with a daytime-friendly natural makeup look (which takes a lot of makeup) and concluded I wouldn’t be doing a date during working hours again. But anyway, I was optimistic and muttering to myself on the way: ‘Think of the headline, a date in Pret.’ 

This is why I’m not a dating columnist (all the nationals have asked, of course ;)) It’s because you end up doing stupid things like going to Pret in the middle of the day for the story. 

Anyway, I walked into Pret and the one thing happened that’s worse than a date in Pret. 

A limp handshake. 

I know English culture hasn’t mastered the art of greeting. I greet my online dates with a brief hug and one kiss on the cheek. Two kisses on the cheek are acceptable if the date is French or you’re in West London. Anyway, I opened my arms for the hug and he protruded his hand into the space and loosely shook mine. 

The date was over. 

However, we then did an awkward walk, which is never a good start to a date, to go back to the trendy cafe (his suggestion). He judged my drink of choice (Chai Latte) in a non-charming way but he did pay for it, which was nice. Then time moved slowly for a while. 

He couldn’t get his head around my writing. I was trying to explain that a good writer can write about anything and I was scrambling for examples that weren’t him and pointing to things in the room trying to think of stories off the cuff about coffee cups, baristas, or people on laptops. I can see why it wasn’t sounding compelling. 

He told me he likes science fiction because he likes to escape reality. Right then, I agreed with him. 

Leaving a daytime date is less awkward. I said I had to get back to work and off I went (he went for the handshake AGAIN) to say bye. 

Then came the part of dating that I hate to admit to but has become increasingly clear. After a blah date, there’s a comedown. I hate people asking me how it went because I don’t want to talk about it. I feel disappointed and further away from my dream of meeting someone. There’s no hope, just despair. There’s a mini grief process for the loss of an imagined future. You go back on the apps and everyone looks weird and it feels depressing. 

Every date, even if it lasts less than an hour, is an emotional rollercoaster. There’s really no such thing as a low-stakes date. 

My life is colourful and fun and finding someone vibrant enough to join me in it is a hard task. So much of that colour is the glorious people I’m surrounded by. I forgot how good those people are until I’ve been exposed to all the meh people out there through online dating. I appreciate how much I enjoy the company of my frighteningly smart but wonderfully silly friends. How talking about stupid things with intelligent people is so goddamn interesting. How through these excellent people, I often meet other great people, too. 

I went to my friend Molly’s birthday dinner and I was late. I’m rarely late but work chose to be busy that day. My other friend, who’s always late RELISHED that I was later than her. I took the last spot at the dinner table.

I was sat next to a gal who was not only in the middle of wonderful writing success, but had also met her boyfriend the year before on Hinge. Like an angel sent from above, she told me her story. I love these stories. Not the stories of meeting your partner at a bar, or at work, or by some cutesy form of magic. I love the stories of a mid-thirties woman, as downtrodden as I am now who kept going until they found their person.

I respect those who peace out of the toxicity of the apps and have better things to do than run around having limp handshakes in Pret. This season of my life is fast becoming the longest time I’ve been single since my teens. It hasn’t been that long in a way, but I’m settling into it because I will continue to cancel a date if I don’t feel like it. The gal I met at the dinner party promised to send me her manifesting meditation, which I’m delighted to receive. Closing my eyes and praying to the stars feels far more productive than going on a date with a man who’s pissed me off. So yes, I’ll keep going. 

Just maybe not to Pret. 

More from Tough Love:

Am I Too Ugly To Find Love Online?

Dating with an open mind doesn't work

Why couldn't he commit?