Welcome to 29 Dates, where we explore the weird, wild, and sometimes wonderful world of dating. Look out for a new story every day this month.
Like most modern romances, I met my date on an app.
I was really surprised that he matched with me because he was a photographer in his mid 30s and he looked like he had his shit together.
After meeting up for the first time on New Year’s Eve, we chatted over text and decided to go on a proper date, which is where it all went wrong. Really wrong.
He suggested that we go to his flat, which really annoyed me, but after some thought I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and suggested dinner instead.
We went to one of his friend’s restaurants in Soho, NY and everything started off great. We were both being really flirty and having a nice time, and then he said: "Oh, you changed your hair." (I had worn braids the first time we met and now my hair was out.)
He then proceeded to ask: "How much of it is your hair?" before clarifying: "I don’t mind, I’m just interested."
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He came up behind me, put his hands in my hair and said: 'So whose hair is it? What's her name?'
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I explained to him how braiding works and told him it was my hair with extensions blended into it.
He went to the bathroom and as he walked back to the table, he came up behind me, put his hands in my hair and said: "So whose hair is it? What’s her name?"
At this point I was completely shocked. I asked him if he was joking because I genuinely couldn’t work out if he was. I explained, again, that it was extensions and he responded: "Yeah I can feel that."
I felt like I was in The Matrix and that there had been a glitch in the system. I could not understand what was happening.
I told him to take his hands off my hair and made it very clear that I wanted him to stop, but he proceeded to do so — three more times — over the course of the evening.
Later he started discussing the Harry and Meghan situation (aka Megxit). He complained that "everyone always tries to make it a race issue" and that Black people love "going on about the struggle" and "playing the victim".
At the end of the night I asked him to book me a cab and after 15 minutes it still hadn't arrived. I asked what was going on and he said that he was trying to figure out whereabouts I lived. When I told him the exact area, he said: "Oh, I thought you lived in the nice part." At which point I walked out.