After James and François, I quickly realised that I didn’t need to meet men online to stumble upon crazy creatures. With both, I’d experienced the worst I could possibly get. Well, no; Gary was still by far the worst experience ever. So after a tiny break, I decided to check my matches on eHarmony. One of them was Wayne.

Pre-Date

According to his profile, Wayne was a very successful businessman who travelled around the world. Whilst his profile was exceptionally well written, I was put off by his spelling errors and the horrible grammar on his emails. Plus, Wayne was constantly writing after 3am. Well, he travelled a lot, so I assumed that he was just in another country.

After we had exchanged a few emails, we decided to organise a date in the East End. Wayne lived in Dagenham, a small town in Essex, so it only made sense to meet halfway in Shoreditch at The Dragon Bar.

Date No.1

I arrived right on time and Wayne welcomed me with a warm hug and what I understood as an “Aw rate?” I didn’t reply and just smiled politely.

The Dragon bar was an unpretentious venue with an eclectic mix of music. Very Shoreditch! Very hip! And Wayne seemed to be in his element, wearing a three-piece suit which looked slightly too tight for his body.

So, meet Wayne, a dark 36-year-old gentleman with beautiful sparkling brown eyes. Built like a rugby player, he was perfumed like he had dropped his whole bottle of Armani on his suit but I couldn’t help but think that it was better that James’ bad breath.

I quickly noticed his thick pair of gold earrings and his right hand was covered with gold diamond rings. Wow, the man was wearing more jewellery than me, and I was not a drop impressed. In fact, it was a turn-off.

Plus, for the first 30 minutes I struggled to understand him. I was looking at him, my mouth Sahara-dry, wondering if he was really speaking English or if I missed something in the language evolution. After a strenuous time translating Waynenglish into proper English, my brain realised that his grammar mistakes on emails were also vocals. Wayne was saying, “he don’t” instead of “he doesn’t”; “you was” instead of “you were”, and so on. But, my French brain eventually got his way of speaking: “Innit” was “isn’t it” and “me” instead of “my”.

Wayne kept on calling me 'babes' which had the tendency to annoy the heck out of me, especially when I realised that he called everybody around us the same.

I understood that Wayne had a couple of businesses but the most fruitful one was the purchase and resale of luxury cars. Yet, he owned a discreet Mercedes, as he didn’t like to show any exterior signs of wealth. I couldn’t help but say, “Well, you have a whole lot of diamond gold rings.” He tried to reply, but answered a text on his phone instead. Exasperating!

Well, despite his phone glued on his right wrist, Wayne and I still had a few laughs and a bit of banter about everything and nothing. It was a fun night but I quickly realised that I hadn’t learned anything about him. When I wanted to ask more personal questions, Wayne checked his big diamond watch that almost burned my eyes and told me that he had to go. All this was so abrupt and frustrating as I had just started to understand him. Plus, I didn’t know anything about him, which I suppose made him an intriguing guy, as I wanted to know more.

Post-date No.1

I didn’t really know what to think of Wayne. We spoke about life but didn’t get to know each other. All I knew, was that he had a funny accent, was full of banter and jokes, and made me laugh out loud when I could understand him. Plus, mega bonus, Wayne knew how to dress. The jewellery, well we could get rid of that later. So I decided to accept his invite for a second date, which would take place at a greyhound-racing track. I had never been to one and I couldn’t wait to experience.

Date No.2

This time, we decided to meet in Dagenham. I assumed the racing was there, so I was happy to travel to get away from the hustle and bustle of London. Well, I didn’t know I was going to such a depressing town. At the destination, I was so surprised by the different atmosphere that surrounded the town. The people looked so morose too. The weather didn’t help either – it was pouring and people were appearing and disappearing in the big smoke released by the rain. It was dark, gloomy, and vicious.

Whilst I was waiting for Wayne at Dagenham Heathway station, I realised that in this part of town, Adidas hooded tracksuits were back in fashion, I might have looked old-fashioned by the look of the ladies passing by me. They almost made me feel uncomfortable, until I heard Wayne shouting my name. I was relieved, until I realised that he had come to pick me up in a flashy red Mercedes Coupé. Matters got worse when I got into the car and realised that he was not as elegant as our first date. What the hell had happened since our last meeting?! Wayne was wearing a Burberry baseball cap, a Lacoste sportswear ensemble which consisted of a green sequined hoodie and cropped trousers of the same style which showed his white socks, probably washed with bleaching gel, and the famous old-fashioned Adidas Stan Smiths. The whole look was an eyesore, like a vampire it should have never have seen the light of day. I was in pain; there was no way I was going to my first greyhound-racing track with a clown. I was quickly reassured. Wayne hadn’t managed to get tickets, so he asked me if we could just get some food instead as he had a busy afternoon and would have to leave early. I wasn’t disappointed but I lied, “Oh, that is a shame. Next time.”

So, we went to a restaurant without a name; there was no sign whatsoever at the entrance. All I knew was that they were serving Turkish cuisine. Wayne ordered a variety of dishes so we could try everything. And, all through the date, friends of his would pass by and recognise him through the window just to come into the restaurant to say hello, shake hands or have a quick Waynenglish conversation.

Finally alone, Wayne handed a small box to me. “Here’s my first gift to you, Frenchie.” Well, this was a first and very different from the traditional rose bouquet. I opened the box, not sure what to expect. As soon as I realised what the gift was, I knew I had to decline. Wayne had given me the latest Oyster Rolex. I was shocked by the gift and managed to quaver, “I can’t accept this, I am afraid. I barely know you, Wayne.”

“Please take it. Don’t feel like you need to marry me,” he smiled.

“Sorry Wayne I can’t. But you can keep it for me. If our relationship evolves in a few months’ time, I’d be more than happy to have it, but I can’t accept this present now,” I whispered, hampered by the indiscreet looks at our table.

I handed the watch back. Wayne seemed disappointed at first, but he quickly went back to his usual banter and jokes. Over a silent moment, I couldn’t help but wonder, what sort of business could make him buy a simple date a £10,000 watch? Or was it fake?

“You seem to be very successful in your businesses, what else do you do except from selling luxury cars? I want to have my own business so you might inspire me,” I enquired.

“You really want to know babes?” Wayne muttered.

“Yes, I want to buy myself an Oyster,” I joked.

“Really babes?” he questioned, astonished.

“Yes, please,” I insisted, bothered by the “babes“ again.

He started, “You could be my queen, you know. And everybody would respect you in Essex. You’re a good classy girl, you are worth more than the billions of bitches I’ve fucked.” I just acquiesced on this one, not sure whether to take it as a compliment or not. But as soon as he said that, I knew that I wouldn’t see him again.

“I am a Charlie wholesale dealer,” he confessed.

“Charlie?” I repeated, not sure of what he was talking about.

“Yes, but I don’t sell small quantities like some losers,” he boasted. “In fact, the all England works for me.”

I wasn’t sure what Wayne meant by Charlie, but for some reason I decided not to ask more questions. The tone he employed and the way he lowered his voice made me think that it wasn’t legal.

Again, Wayne checked his watch and had to go. He left me alone in the middle of nowhere. How was I going to get home from here? Pissed, I called an Uber.

Post-date No.2

Ok, I learned that Charlie stood for cocaine. Sorry, I am French… Wayne was a successful (?) drug dealer who had not been in prison yet, I believe. I was shocked by the discovery; this dating experience had shown me the worst of London (and Paris) and I was expecting much better to come.

I decided not to see Wayne again. When he sent me a text saying: < Sorry babes, I have to go to South America. Let’s catch up on my return. > I didn’t bother replying.

But one day…

I was having dinner with Camellia at Quaglino’s when she realised that someone was staring at me insistently. When I dared to look in his direction, Wayne was smiling at me, accompanied by a beautiful lady. I was glad he had forgotten about me and I smiled at him and his guest.

Later that night, Wayne texted me, apologising that he hadn’t been in touch and couldn’t say a proper hello at Quaglino’s. I quickly replied: < It’s ok, I know you were seeing other women. I am seeing other men too. It’s not like we’re married or engaged. We just had two dates. >

Obviously in these circumstances, I didn’t want to tell him yet that I wasn’t interested in seeing more of him. I quickly realised that I should have when Wayne texted me back: < It was my sister, you stupid bitch! Fucking French whore! I was about to buy you a car! I should have listened to my friend when he said that French women are unfaithful and …> I didn’t read the whole text. I deleted it and blocked Wayne. What a chavtastic experience! Next!