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Valentine’s Special: Your Editors’ Worst Dates

While it feels like the transition between 2020 and now has been a thousand years longer than it needed to be, dating post-pandemic has definitely taught me a lot! Regardless of having done all of my dates this year with individuals I met on apps like Tinder or Hinge, I can assure you the nerves that come with meeting a stranger for the first time do not disappear! Though I spent the majority of my first year missing those classic fresher opportunities because of lockdown, by now IÔÇÖve had my fair share of dates, and some definitely better than others! One of my biggest date flops though has to be meeting with a fellow Welsh-speaker from the North.

If youÔÇÖre fluent in the Welsh language like myself, youÔÇÖll know that of course that there is a drastic change in dialect when comparing the north and the south. While the northern dialect and accent is much thicker than my own, itÔÇÖs also the most heart-warming form of the Welsh language youÔÇÖll ever hear, though be assured that this is definitely not something that you can hear over text! Having spent about a month chatting with my date, I thought that conversing through Welsh was possibly the most wholesome thing ever! Though I study English Literature, IÔÇÖm always looking for new ways to use my Welsh, whether it be through my part-time job, or through reading more Welsh literature, and so this seemed right up my alley! Despite my hopes though, the minute he began to speak I was completely taken aback. The next thing I knew, I was stumbling over every other word, and my nerves were heightened to the extreme! I couldnÔÇÖt have made a bigger fool of myself if I tried! I thought it would simply be an issue for me to understand what it was he was saying on occasion, but it was just as bad on both sides! If youÔÇÖre a fellow Cymraes from the South, embrace yourselves – the northern dialect is so lovely, but not always easily understood!

Alexa Price

My worst dates have to be from during my first year at university, I was so innocent and young and would basically allow the date to unravel as free therapy for the man sat across from me at drinks.  Firstly, an 18-year-old should never have been dating 24-year-olds, but I was clueless, and they should have known better. I think they enjoyed how easy I was to impress, this being because they could bring me to the Cardiff hotspot, Kongs, and I would think it was the coolest place on Earth. I would then drag my friends to these places: Kongs, Club Ifor Bach, BootleggerÔǪ so at least I gained some useful-ish knowledge for my cool girl future endeavors.

I always found these dates would start normally with the average questions such as: ÔÇÿWhat do you do at uni?ÔÇÖor ÔÇÿWhy Cardiff?ÔÇÖ. Then suddenly after a few pints in, it would turn to how awful their ex-girlfriends were or how they never fully built a proper relationship with their Dad amongst other issues. I would sit passively and endure, not even gaining a free drink in the exchange because I always insisted on splitting. At that few pints in mark they never asked me about myself again and from what I had listened to: their ex-girlfriends seemed perfectly reasonable and the idea that the older you dated the more mature they became was utter nonsense. They tended to play the misleading nice guy character a little too well before I could read straight through them as they insisted on walking me back to my Taly South room. They never made it closer than TalyÔÇÖs gates and eventually didn’t waste my evenings again.

Hope Docherty


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