I thought he was perfect – until our date in a graveyard

On a grey and dreary day in mid-2020, my date and I were among a sea of people out and about on a daily walk in East London.

As we wandered towards our destination, I admired the locals waving at each other from a distance, the strangers giving each other enough space to get past, and I couldn’t help but feel zingy and excited about my own circumstances.

This all sounds pretty standard for an outdoor date in the throes of the pandemic, I’m sure. However, there was just one, key difference…

Instead of going for a stroll in a local park full of kids or people on picnics, our date was taking place in a graveyard.

I had matched with Sergio*, a death metal fan from Milan, on Hinge and was instantly attracted to his Italian-accented voice notes and beard. I also liked his black Dillinger Escape Plan t-shirts, black leather bracelets and the metal stretchings in his ears.

We chatted back and forth on the app for a few days before moving to WhatsApp – where he sent me his favourite heavy metal songs and, somewhat shyly, mentioned he was making me a playlist – and then agreed to meet the following Saturday.

Seeing as bars and pubs were still mostly shut, I knew we’d have to get creative, but the only place I could think of for a bit of peace and quiet was my local graveyard.

There aren’t many people who would find cemeteries sexy, but as a goth and a bona fide fan of the macabre myself, it was pretty on-brand for me. 

And I’m not ashamed to admit that there is definitely something about a graveyard that gets me going; maybe it’s fear – people often fall in love on rollercoasters, so perhaps this was just my version. 

The church in my neighbourhood is old and pretty and quiet, so I figured it could be the perfect place for us to get to know one another.

We could wander around, reading the inscriptions on headstones – those ubiquitous nods to people’s ‘zealous spirit’ and ‘cheerful disposition’ or, in the case of so many women, that they were ‘useful’ – and make up romantic stories about the long-dead Victorians.

I felt, instinctively, that Sergio would be into it, and thankfully, he jumped at the chance: ‘Sounds great!’ he replied, with a winky face. 

What I didn’t bank on though was not fancying Sergio one bit in person.

I swear, when you’re internet dating, you should meet in the flesh as soon as possible, because you’ll know in less than 30 seconds whether there’s a spark.

With Sergio I knew from the moment he shook my hand – it was limp and slightly clammy – and he had clearly lied about his height as he was shorter than me. 

I felt my heart sink as I realised I had to go through with the date anyway, and as he talked incessantly about the heavy metal scene in Italy, I berated myself for saying I was available to him for an open-ended amount of time. Rookie error.

So, to fill the despair I decided to get extremely drunk (he’d brought a bottle of Champagne, proving he wasn’t all bad) very quickly.

By the time we’d finished a long, intense discussion on the merits of death metal versus thrash metal, I was pissed as a fart and decided to kiss him.

There’s really nothing worse than a kiss with a man you do not fancy and yet many of us do it to get ourselves out of a bad date – I’ll regale you with the tales of how I ended up snogging a train driver and the gross, wet kiss I shared with another guy who tasted overwhelmingly of blueberry vape another time, though.

With Sergio, our snog was born out of my desperation for the night to be over.

However, I was so drunk – and so was he – that all this singular, sloppy kiss did was extend the night. I hadn’t been dating long and was yet to learn how to ditch someone without guilt, so, despite still feeling absolutely no attraction to Sergio whatsoever, I wound up back at his.

We snogged energetically on his sofa for what felt like forever, and then he asked me if I wanted to ‘go to bed’.

With that, I eventually came to my senses and texted a friend – who had been waiting all night for me to inform her she wouldn’t have to search for my body in the graveyard, however apt that might have been – and I got the hell out of there.

Fortunately, I never heard from Sergio again. And perhaps the only other positive to come out of our dalliance was that this experience forever informed how I date.

To this day, I won’t meet anyone for an open-ended amount of time. I now swear by: ‘I can meet at seven but I have somewhere else to be by nine.’

Not only does it make you look busy and in demand, it’s a get-out for a situation you’re just not feeling. Plus, you can always cancel your (fake) alternative plan on the spot if you fancy them.

I’ve also stopped dating people in graveyards. Not only is it a bit too intense, but I realised afterwards that it really isn’t very safe to go somewhere tucked away and absolutely dead quiet (pun intended) with a stranger.

From now on, the only ghosting I’ll do is leaving someone on read.

*Names have been changed

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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