That time I was interviewed for casual sex

I met up with a guy with the intention of a date, but I'm not entirely sure I wasn't being recruited into a prostitution ring.

It was a slow day at the office so I hit the apps to occupy myself, as you do. I matched with this very cute, very keen stranger who in his very first message suggested we catch-up after work before he went to the cricket - hello, private school boy! I respected his directness and was so flattered that by my pics alone he thought I was worth getting together with. Fucked up, I know.

He was finishing work at 4pm so I decided I was too and made up some excuse to my team to leave early. I wasn't wearing a date-friendly outfit (y'know something that conveys your personality and shows off your assets) but when he suggested meeting at KittyHawk, a Sydney bar I'd wanted to go to, I threw caution to the wind. YOLO!

I arrived and he was already there. Tick. He was even hotter in person. Tick. He smelt fucking amazing. BIG tick! His greeting was very stiff. Cross. He had zero small talk game. BIG cross. He was drinking water at a cocktail bar. Question mark. It was all so awkward. This was gonna suck and not in the good way.

After what felt like an eternity of me being my most charming self, sharing flirtatious anecdotes and asking him what anyone with a pulse would've considered to be interesting questions, this guy was giving me nothing. Was he actually a cardboard cutout? That'd explain a lot.

I suggested we order cocktails - I needed to loosen this tree branch up. I realised he hadn't made eye contact with me since I arrived. Awww, the guy was just shy. Bless.

He declined my suggestion for social lubrication as he only had half an hour before he had to leave. What? I'd left work early for this guy. I'd gotten on a bus for this guy! I guess I wasn't hotter in person? We sat with our matching his and hers tap water and he pulled out his phone. Rude.

As I was about to wave the figurative white flag and bail to see if any of my city-based friends wanted to grab a cocktail so this evening wasn't a total bust and this venue wasn't completely tarnished, he revealed he had some questions for me. Yes! Let's get this date back on track! He was too handsome not to try.

I was pumped for some ice-breakers, however instead of asking me things like where I work, where I went to school (naturally) or about my interests, he asked me when the last time I had sex was. Wow. Strong start.

Before I even had time to process the question, he hit me with a quick succession of follow-up questions:

• How many sexual partners have you had in the past year?

• Do you give head?

• If yes, do you swallow?

• Are you on The Pill?

• What is your pubic hair situation?

• Do you do anal?

• When was your last STI check?

I don't think I exhaled for a full minute. Was I being interviewed for sex? I understand he was on a time limit and I'm all for efficiency, but JESUS! Plus he missed the most important lead-up question, "Do you want to have sex with me?" Presumptuous much?

After the firing squad of HIGHLY inappropriate questions that were nobody's business, let alone his, I finally exhaled with a laugh. I knew he was being serious, I just thought the situation was so ridiculously amusing. Had this gear actually worked for him in the past? Was I the guinea pig in his new approach to getting laid? Either way, it was hilarious to me and my lack of ability to conceal my feelings didn't impress him.

It wasn't the questions that shocked me so much, it was that he hadn't actually looked at me once since I sat down. After a long pause, I asked him if he was going to look at me and he acted like my question was more personal than the string he'd just asked me. In a slow, low and steady voice I confessed that eye contact is what turns me on. Even that didn't get him to look at me.

He returned his phone to his pocket and said he needed to head off. I asked if he was going to wait for my answers and he replied by asking if I was keen to have sex after the cricket. I guess I nailed the interview then? Getting the job without even answering a single question? Damn, I'm good.

I paused, drank the rest of my water and laughed. Whilst this robot was clearly a creep, I'm not going to lie: curiousity was getting the better of me. This bloke was so wooden, I couldn't even imagine him having sex. He walked me out, a true gentleman, asked if I wanted to have a quickie in the adjacent car park and I helpfully reminded him he had a match to get to.

As he started to walk away he said he'd message me after the cricket for my address - note: at no point had I said I would sleep with him. I yelled out an enthusiastic, "Okay!" and he was gone. I reached out to a few friends to see if anyone was free, however this was at a time when mixed team sports were all the rage so no one was.

On my way home, I realised I had a decision to make. I could unmatch him so he had no way of contacting me, I could send him my address to see what his moves were like (no, he didn't deserve more of my time), or I could give him a piece of my mind to call him out on his shitty behaviour and hopefully save other women from experiencing this crap.

I wish I could say I was a hero and chose the latter, but I couldn't manage to put a sick enough burn together so I just unceremoniously unmatched him. Here's hoping he pops up on the next season of MAFS or Love Island so we can find out what became of him.