LET'S CALL A SPADE A SPADE.

In the same way that we should call a catfish, a catfish. Even better if the catfish admits TO YOUR FACE ON THE DATE that he used photos of his cousin who looks a bit like him, but better.

To be completely fair, things were questionable from the off. Ali (very slight name change here for anonymity) was one of those guys from Hinge where you cant tell if they're going to be much better in real life, or drastically worse. He didn't have any photos with an open-mouthed smile, but some people don't love a toothy grin do they?

He lived and worked in Stratford, and as I wanted to pop to Westfield anyway, we agreed to date in the area. Are you sitting comfortably? This is where our story begins.

He was horrifically late.

Like, not your average 10/15 mins late and then arrive in an apologetic fluster. He was a WHOLE 40 minutes late, so me being me, I stood like a moron pretending to be on my phone outside Stratford station the entire time. Why not go and sit in Starbucks hun? Wander round the shops? Do SOMETHING.

He went off-piste with plans and bamboozled me.

Ali texted me to say he couldn't find anywhere to park (?) so said that if I could just come and 'hop in' his car, he'd take me to his fave Moroccan restaurant a "short drive" away. Why, you may ask, would you EVER get into a strangers car? But in the flap of the moment, I did. At my big age.

He wasn't... him.

Yes my friends, as I alluded to above, Ali was not Ali. Weirdly, he wasn't a million miles from the photos on his Hinge, but he was shorter than he said, had only a smattering of teeth, and was a bit chunky (I mean, me too babes, but I don't pretend to be a model). He actually addressed this when I first saw him: "Sometimes me and my cousin use each other's pictures on dating apps because we look so similar, but he's taller and gets the girls." I can tell you now with absolute certainty that his cousin does not use his pictures. Cue him laughing his head off and me suppressing rising panic that I am now in his car, basically kidnapped, and at his mercy.

He tried to force me to drink Moroccan tea.

It turns out Ali was muslim, and so did not drink alcohol. He was also very certain that he didn't want me to drink either, so when we got to the restaurant he decided to try to force feed (drink?) me Moroccan tea even though I told him repeatedly I don't like it and didn't want it.

Obvs, being a super-hun, I was so polite about all this; insisting it was wasted on me and that he should enjoy the tea himself. And so, we sat at the restaurant in almost silence while he SLURPED the tea, and I smiled desperately at strangers on other tables for something to do. We were at the restaurant about 20 minutes, and then we moved onto the next leg of our adventure. Note: No dinner.

He took me to his 'office'.

After a drive through deepest darkest Stratford - he told me he had "something to show me" (terror) - we arrived at one of those temporary office caravan things on a retail park as it turned out that, for some reason which remains a mystery to this day, he wanted to show me where he worked (?). He told me to wait in the car, while he popped inside to 'get things ready'. All joking aside, I was convinced this was going to be the end of me, I was frantically sending friends my location.

As it turns out, he'd put some sexy (I assume this is what he was going for) slow jams on and lit about 30 micro-tea lights (as in, smaller-than-normal-tea-light-sized candles) and turned all of the lights off so it was really dark. Ali was a t-shirt printer, as it turned out, so his office had a huge t-shirt printing machine, a small sofa bed, a computer and a big sound system. I perched on the edge of sofa, coat still on and bag still across my body.

In the darkness, and now BEAMING at me with his toothless smile, Ali proceeded to ask me the most explicit sexual questions (I can't even type them out and he was just firing them at me) and inform me that his office is where he 'brings all the girls' after nights out. The feeling of sitting on a stranger's sex-sofa by candlelight is not a comfortable one, let me tell you.

I did attempt a couple of minutes respite hiding in the bathroom, but that turned out to be equally traumatising: the toilet was black and brown, there were unmentionable stains all over and the smell of urine wafting from a little shower cubicle was nauseating. I remember looking at myself in the small grubby mirror like... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! A real moment with myself.

I lived to tell the tale.

After 30 minutes (I still to this day don't know how I managed to last this long) and Ali talking consistently about his female conquests and sexual habits, I explained I had a big meeting the following day and asked if he could either drive me back to Stratford station, or order me an Uber.

This prompted a real STROP from Ali, and in the most pissy tone he said he'd drive me as Uber drivers can be 'dodgy'. POT KETTLE BLACK, pal. After ensuring I knew he was angry, he then stomped about blowing out each of the mini candles with a loud and angry PFFFTT of air. This took him some time and was funnier with every pfftt, despite me being a little concerned about impending murder and the room getting darker and darker with every candle extinguished.

He tried to kiss me. The final flourish.

So - you guys still with me? - we're in the car, in silence and Ali is still in a real mood. I'm looking out of the window wondering exactly where my life went so wrong and then, suddenly - after a much longer drive than expected - I recognise where we are, and a weird sense of relief washes over me. I get the giggles so bad that I'm holding laughter in my nose and it hurts.

As we pull up to the station, Ali leans over TO KISS ME and, even when I get whiplash pulling my head away to reject him, says he'd like to 'do this again soon'. I open the door of the car and all but throw myself out like a sack of potatoes. As the cold air of the night hits me (so melodramatic) I literally burst into hysterical laughter on the pavement and exclaim to the lady side-eyeing me "I HAVE HAD SUCH A WEIRD NIGHT HAHAHA". Remembering that Ali is still parked just behind, watching my mini public breakdown, I give him a... wait for it... thumbs up and RUN up the stairs to the station.

Beat that for a date-meets-actual-kidnap story, if you can. L x