A Date with a Dead Seagull: How My Taxidermy Hobby Changed Everything
Dating can be an exciting and unpredictable journey, filled with moments that test your compatibility. One of the most intriguing parts of getting to know someone new is discovering their quirks and passions. Do they have an unusual hobby? Are they into vintage items or extreme sports? What’s their unique interest that sets them apart? For me, my passion lies in taxidermy, a fascination that has shaped not only my personal life but also some of my most memorable dating experiences.
Growing up on a farm, I developed a deep connection with animals. Their presence brought me comfort, and this love for creatures eventually led me to explore taxidermy. However, my journey into this art form began after a significant loss—when my father passed away. The finality of death was difficult to process, and I found solace in finding ways to keep memories alive. That’s when I decided to train as a taxidermist.
I didn’t take my dad’s remains, but I did preserve a grey squirrel from Dorset, which now resides in my kitchen. It looks just like him, and it’s a reminder of the bond we once shared. This passion for taxidermy also influenced my approach to dating. I joined Hinge and matched with a man named Max. He seemed charming, and our first meeting went well. He invited me over for dinner at his place, and I was excited about the possibility of a meaningful connection.
What I didn’t expect was how my hobby would play a role in our date. On the day of our dinner, I had picked up a taxidermy seagull from a collector in Wimbledon. Its foot was broken, but something about its awkward stance made me feel drawn to it. I brought it home, unaware that I’d accidentally left it in the back seat of my car.
When I arrived at Max’s place, I decided to bring the seagull along, thinking it might spark a conversation. But as soon as he saw it, his reaction was clear. “There’s no way that thing is coming into my flat,” he said firmly. His words stung, even though I knew not everyone shared my enthusiasm for taxidermy. After all, it wasn’t a live animal—it was preserved and harmless.
I didn’t want to leave it in the car, worried someone might steal it. Max scoffed at the idea, but I couldn’t shake the thought that someone might actually want it. We reached a compromise: I left the seagull by the bike rack outside his building. Still, I felt deflated and concerned about its safety.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. We ate spaghetti bolognese and had a dull conversation. There was no chemistry, no warmth, and certainly no spark. Eventually, we both ghosted each other, and we never spoke again. I’m not sure if he ghosted me because of the seagull, but I definitely ghosted him because I found him boring.
Despite the outcome, I don’t hold it against him. Maybe the seagull was too much for him, but I believe the right person will appreciate my interests and my collection. I often think about the married couple I met during my taxidermy course. They had their rabbits posed mid-hug, and I remember thinking, “That’s the kind of love I want.”
I know I’ll find that love one day, and when I do, they won’t recoil at the sight of my seagull in a cardboard box. They might even ask her name (it’s Abigull). Until then, I’ll keep embracing my passions and hoping for a partner who understands and accepts them.
If you have a story you’d like to share, feel free to reach out. Whether it’s a tale of awkwardness or a heartwarming experience, your voice matters.
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