Date Diaries: The Fashion Assistant Living In A Rom-Com

Date Diaries is an online Grazia franchise chronicling the anonymous adventures of those involved in the ever complicated and increasingly unbelievable world of modern dating. To submit your story, fill out the form below.

This week, Sara, a 24-year-old straight fashion assistant from Bath, realises the rom-com meet-cute isn't all it's cracked up to be.*

When I was 21, I travelled across the pond for the first time ever – from London to Toronto. I was visiting my best friend who was studying there and while I expected I might meet some eligible Canadian bachelors when we were out and about, I never thought I'd meet someone on the plane over – that stuff only exists in rom-coms, right?

Wrong. In fact, every way I could’ve encountered Mark for the first time was almost cringe-worthily rom-com-esque. I spotted him as I was boarding, making my way down the aisles and seeing a handsome head in the distance sat in the seat I knew I wanted – the window seat. I was wearing a terrible outfit that consisted of a buttoned up lumberjack shirt with a spikey statement necklace, jeans and army boots that were my dads – student me was very experimental and apparently didn’t think through airport outfits.

As I shuffled in to sit next to him, I couldn’t of been more awkward. I smiled in the way you smile at a stranger you are going to have to spend the next five hours pressed against and got my laptop out to seem like a grown woman.

Luckily, no one sat in the aisle seat and I could move over one, creating the perfect bonding moment for me and Mr Window aka Mark. Polite small talk soon became engrossed conversation, and the assignment I had actually intended to do on my laptop went straight out the window.

*Mark was 28, from Toronto and over in England on business. He was immediately warm and bear-like, and by hour two of the five hour flight we were flirting. I can just imagine myself now, sickeningly laughing at all his jokes, even though they probably weren’t funny at all… ‘Oh stop it Mark, that’s outrageous!’ I gasped at every other comment.

All the while we were flirting, I was wondering whether the second time I would ever have sex would be on a plane, and what a great story that would make for Snapchat. Peak millennial.

Alas, I wasn’t about the join the mile-high club, but I was about to secure a holiday romance. Mark offered to give me a lift to my friend’s house when we landed and I automatically accepted out of that incessant British/female politeness that plagues me. Naturally, I was also writing a farewell note in my phone in case I went missing and anyone found it.

The rest of the flight I was a nervous wreck contemplating my own dangerous decision, all the while trying to maintain the casual flirty allure that kept our conversation going. ‘Why had I accepted getting in a random man’s car?’ I thought to myself. ‘How could I turn him down without him thinking I thought he was a murderer?’

I decided to trust my gut at his kind demeanour – stupid as that may be – and just accept the lift. Before I knew it, I was sat in his car, listening to Drake – because when in Canada. And suddenly, the drive was over and I was at my friends door with his business card in my hand. ‘Why don’t you and your friend meet me at a sports bar in the city tomorrow? I’ll bring a mate too,’ he asked me.

I instantly accepted, because again, British politeness. All I had to do was convince my friend that a.) I wasn’t an idiot for getting in a random man’s car and b.) Mark’s friend was worth her time. It wasn’t too difficult since it’s literally a best friends job to follow you down the garden path of dodgy dates.

When we arrived at the sports bar, we were already merry from pre-ing at her house. Nevertheless, we still felt awkward, so we immediately went to the bar and ordered a jug of Coors Light. Soon enough, Mark and his friend swanned over and Hannah gave me a look that could only mean, ‘what have you got us into here?’. His friend was short, Hobbit short, but he was actually a really nice guy and she couldn’t fault that.

We were all getting along swimmingly, and soon enough we’d gone from the bar to the club. As we all danced together, Mark leaned in for a kiss and suddenly, we were that gross couple on the dance floor playing tonsil tennis and grinding. The second time I’d ever had sex may not be on a plane, but it sure would be with Mr Window, I thought.

I pulled Hannah to the bathroom for some recon and she decided to wing woman me until she could run away from the hobbit. Soon enough, we were hailing taxis back to Marks condo. Weirdly though, the guys ordered two separate cars, one for me and Mark the other for Hannah and Hobbit.

Something about that made my stomach turn, and as we arrived at his condo I was started to wonder what the hell I was doing. I’d travelled thousands of miles to see my best friend, why was I on a one-night-stand mission with some random guy I’d met on the plane?

With nothing but pure panic inside me, I scrambled the best way to get out of this situation with no awkward goodbye. So, as both our taxis arrived at the condo my only instinct was to run. Literally. I ran from my taxi to Hannah’s, and as Hobbit got out I jumped in, and shouted ‘GO! GO! GO!’ at the driver.

‘What the hell?’ I heard Mark yell as we screeched off into the distance. We’d gone from rom-com to action thriller in seconds. ‘So, what happened there?’ Hannah asked me in the car. 'I realised I fancied a burger with you more than I fancied him,' I told her.

'Can you take us to the nearest McDonalds?' she told the driver, and suddenly I realised who the real star of my rom-com was all along.

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