Okay I confess I’ve been on ONE Tinder Date.
Actually you could say two… if I hadn’t walked into his house and ran straight out again. One and a half? One and an intention? Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself….
You could say things have been a bit of a dating desert (not to be confused with ‘dessert’, which sounds like I’ve had a smorgasbord of cute boys wrapped in napkins).
This is entirely my fault and I take full responsibility for the drought.
I’m not one of these people who are like “what would I even do with a boyfriend?” “what does it eat?” yadda yadda. I know exactly where I’d put him, what to feed him and how often. That isn’t the issue.
This issue is my date-ability doubts. I mean, the poor sod…. I’m reluctant to put him through it. I feel for the unsuspecting guy.
I’ve spent the last while focusing on me. Getting my shit together. Trying to fix the many myriad of flaws I possess. Learn to fully love myself..
Well it’s taking too long (I’m not giving an exact time because it’s as long as it is embarrassing). I’ve been on dates here and there, sure. But nothing major. And anything that had potential I (unintentionally or possibly intentionally depending how you look at it) – shot down.
So it’s time to get back on the horse so to speak . Before my family begin to not so subtly ask about my sexuality.
My first Tinder experience wasn’t a catastrophic and hilarious mess like many a tinder tales. It was over a year ago (shit) and it actually went quite well. We had coffee, talked and I drove home with a huge smile on my face while belting out the lyrics to an Avril Lavagne song.
Success, one would assume. The conversation flowed, we had similar interests and he wasn’t a homicidal maniac, which is always a plus.
Coming from a shitty and semi soul destroying last relationship I was happy (hence the singing) to at least like someone finally. There was hope in my heart.
When I pulled into my carport, still humming, I picked up my phone to see an unread message. It was from Tinder Boy. My heart skipped a beat.
Expecting a nice “so good to meet you” message or something along those lines, I eagerly opened it.
Now I can’t remember the exact wording buuuuut it basically a booty call suggestion. And not even a nice one. Something along the lines of “I forgot to say you should come over for a movie now”.
Now I’m no prude. I’m really not. But there wasn’t any nice to meet you” and when you write “I forgot to say” it hardly shows interest. More like an after thought. Or he’d hurt his wrist on the drive home. Maybe he was just testing the waters. I don’t know. But what I do know is “watching a movie” is never “watching a movie”.
It burst my 5 second romantic bubble. So of course I buried that embarrassing spark of hope deeper than hidden treasure. I told no one. Deleting all evidence from existence – offending text message and tinder app included.
Okay I lie. I didn’t cut the cord completely. Tinder Boy and I did text briefly back and forth (vodka may have played a part in texting him back a week later). I thought hey maybe I was being prudish and the guy does deserve a bit more of a chance.
Then he invited me to a afternoon pool party he was throwing. Brilliant I thought. It’ll be easy and fun. Cars littered the street so I parked down the road, the music getting louder as I approached. Thanks to Instagram I knew there was already a game of beer pong underway.
I knocked on the door. Obviously no one heard because the party was out the back. I knocked again. Unsure what to do, I just let myself in.
I crept into his hallway like some.. some…. some.. creeper is probably the best way to describe it. Or burglar. Or infatuated Tinder stalker (which is what it sounds like now I recount the whole affair..).
I caught a glimpse of the party through a window. And turned on my heel and left. No real reason.
I managed to get out without anyone seeing me (not too hard considering since I’d gone 10 steps into the foyer at most), with my dignity still intact.
So got in my car and drove like a bat out of hell and instead went to a girlfriends get together laughing at my idiocy all the way.
Now that really was the end of that. It was a shame really because he had a nice house and a pool.
Despite my story having no booty call scene, I for some reason feel if your on Tinder it’s expected. It’s not a dating app and despite those who says “new to town and just looking to meet new people” , well mark me down as sceptical. Not saying people aren’t genuinely on there for that purpose, just that there are few and far in between. I feel like a date set through Tinder would imply a four course meal – the last course being inter-course. I don’t want or like that expectation.
I can never say no. Not to sales people. Not to an extra serving of fries. Not to doing favours for friends. So I have not put myself in the situation for that exact reason.
Talk of Tinder is a little bit taboo. No one likes to admit to using it. And anyone I’ve seen confronted by someone else who has seen there profile while themselves swiping, has laughed it off semi awkwardly.
But now that I’ve moved towns and heard a number of Tinder dating success stories I’m rethinking it as a way to meet new people.
So my question is this: Is Tinder still a booty call line or something more? And what are your Tinder experiences (the good, the bad, the ugly I want to hear it).