'After a wild first date, I ended up in hospital. Then, the guy ghosted me.'

Many moons ago when I was young, single, and on the d-hunt (sorry, Mum), I met a lovely lady on a big group weekend away.

Now this story isn’t going to turn into the secret confessions of a lesbian affair. The lovely lady was substantially older than me and a few wines deep, after I mentioned being single, she revealed she had a son I just had to meet.

After another few wines, she was sending him pictures of me, telling me all about him. His name was Donald*, he had a good job in sales and he was very handsome.

Donald and I added each other on Facebook and started chatting away, mainly about how funny his mother was.

*His name absolutely is not Donald but you know, privacy.

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This was in November and we struck up almost a semi-relationship via text. In retrospect, it was extremely weird, we would text most days, send each other pictures and profess our excitement for when we would finally meet up.

Given it was the busiest time of the year and we were both social little butterflies, the anticipated meet up didn’t happen before Christmas. Over Christmas, he rang a few times making my mother raise her eyebrows and offer up ‘he seems a bit keen’.

A few days after New Year’s, he texted me late one afternoon that he would be in my area if I wanted to grab a drink.


I was feeling a tad under the weather (NYE benders have a nasty habit of making me start the year terribly) but agreed given I didn’t have any other plans and also was keen to finally meet Donald in real life!

So I headed to a bar and… his mother was there too. I mean, I adored his mother, she was so fun. But I didn’t exactly envisage our first date being a little family outing, to be honest.


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Guys I put on makeup and am wearing a dress, SHE’S BACK BEYBEH!

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Anyway, a few of her pals joined us and we had a merry old time as a group; the drinks flowed and the chemistry with Donald and I intensified.

At one point we all ended up at another bar with a live band and Donald grabbed me on the dance floor, planting a pash on me. It was heady, mind-blowing, sexy AF.


I remember being sort of aware that his bloody mother was still in the room somewhere (probably clapping her hands gleefully), but it was the sort of excellent dancefloor makeout sesh where I slowly stopped caring about who was watching up.

At the end of the night, Donald came home with me.

We had sex and he stayed in the night. In the morning, my slight sickness from the day before had turned into something far more sinister when mixed with a hangover, so I was bloody grateful to get rid of him at about 7 am, heading straight back to bed.

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Later that afternoon I was so sick and my throat had swelled up so much I couldn’t get Panadol down. I was in so much agony, my sister had to take me to the hospital.

So imagine the mother’s shock when she checked in on me and I had to inform her I was currently incapacitated in a hospital bed.

‘What did Donald do to you?” she texted.

Minutes later, Donald texted to ask if I was okay. Obviously, I was fine, I’d just gone too hard with what was actually a severe throat infection.

I’m not sure if the sex was dreadful or the hospital visit just scared him off but Donald fell off the face of the earth. He ghosted me.

After months of sexy banter, phone calls and a tick of approval from mummy dearest, he banged and ran. He disappeared like the ghost f*ckboy he was.