Why I don’t trust people with the name voldemort

Dear future self,

If your brain says;
‘his name is voldermort, that’s probably a bad sign’
Then it is a bad sign.

Accept it.


As a part of my fruitless, drunken, persuit of my next great date or horizontal dance partner, on Thursday night I had one of my top gal pals accompany me to a bar in the city, and act as quality control for potential male talent (because lets face it, I need help).

Unfortunately (?) I had consumed enough vodka-flavored bevarges that my attention span for husband hunting had been impaired to a point where I had resigned myself to taking the easy way out and started shamelessly flirting with a slightly older but reasonably attractive dj who is from a band I used to obsess over when I was 15. And lets be clear, when I say obsess, I mean stalk. Openly and obviously.

Having become acutely aware of my drunken miscalculation of the comparative visual quality of this gentleman to others in the bar, my friend promptly diverted my attention to what she suggested was a gorgeous and appropriately-aged male across the room. I turned to look and he was indeed as she described – tall, handsome and nice set of arms. Feeling suddenly more sober, I quickly tried to calculate my next move however I managed nothing more than to stare at him with my mouth open. Why must I be so sexy? Luckily I was paying enough attention that as he turned his head in my direction, I managed to look away unnoticed. Or did I?

Before my friend was able to comment about how I should probably attend a workshop or read a book on the subtle art of flirting, she was making the ‘look behind you’ face. It was him. Even sexier close up and before I had even had time to gloat to my friend about how awesome I was at picking up hot dudes, he was introducing himself.

‘Hey. I’m ××××…. I uhhh really just wanted to come over here and tell you that you’re gorgeous. Sorry. I don’t normally do this but.. Wow’

Now I don’t know about anyone else but result of repeated experience, I have a sneaking suspicion that if someone has the same name as someone shit in your life… They’re probably shit too. Against all logic and intelligent thought, I do believe a name can be bad luck. And this guy, of course, had the same name as voldemort.

Strike one.

Lately I haven’t been giving many chances to guys, but on this particular occasion, lets be honest – I was acting out because vodka told me to. As such, I politely thanked him for his compliment with a flirtatious laugh and started chatting to him. Before I knew it, he was leaving with my number and we had agreed to go on a date. I walked away feeling pretty chuffed with myself, determined to get another drink and find victim number 2.

No such luck. But on a return trip to my favourite bartender, I bumped into voldermort again. We started chatting again, and he was throwing out compliments but awkwardly enough not to give off the charmer vibe, and I was enjoying the conversation in between until he did the unthinkable. He mentioned his ex. And not in a brief way, in a ‘we just broke up a month ago and were living together’ kind of way.

Strike two.

I quickly found a way to exit the conversation and ran away.
Safe? No.
Within an hour he text me reiterating date plans to which I politely apologised but said I wasn’t particularly interested in dating anyone who was on the rebound. He was obviously perplexed by the allegation he could possibly be on the rebound after being single for just one month and apologised and insisted I give him a chance. So then I stalked him on Facebook to see if I should give him another go. And then I saw he had a child. And then this happened…



And now I’m considering changing my number.




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