I went to a girlfriend’s house the other afternoon and over a cup of tea she admitted in a slightly hushed tone that she’d joined Tinder.
I’m all for internet dating because let’s face it single mums with little kids don’t get out that much to places where you meet prospective dates/lovers/boyfriends/future ex-husbands. In fact, I joined Tinder myself for a minute couple of months ago.
In fact, I joined three times.
If you don’t know, Tinder matches are made on looks alone, unlike RSVP where you can get a kinda feel for someone by the spiel they write in order to sell themselves like a prize pig.
Tinder is simply swipe left to ditch, and swipe right to say ‘hubba hubba’. If they swipe right on your picture also, then you are considered a “match” and you are free to have as much banal conversation as your heart desires until someone propositions the other for a root.
I may sound cynical, but I do know a lovely couple that met on Tinder. They are both ridiculously hot admittedly but they are deliciously lovely people, as well as spunks… and they adore each other.
I joined Tinder the first time and I actually enjoyed some seriously fantastic banter with a youngster who tickled my brain. When Junior asked for my number to continue via text message I only hesitated briefly and then thought, “fuck it.”
Within half an hour of him having my number he sent me what he called an “arty photo” of himself.
In reality, it was a picture of his erect penis with a request that he may pop over for a cup of tea, or something. When I said no, he asked if I could return the favour with an image of my own private parts, however, I feel that some of my body should never see the keen eye of the lens.
WTF? Is this how we get acquainted these days? I mean, he hadn’t even bought me a glass of wine.
I mentioned I had sleeping children in the house and if I saw on the news that some bird met some guy on a hookup app, invited him over on the same night having never even looked him in the eye and he killed her and her sleeping children and stole the silverware, I’d think she was a bit of a ninny.
Sure, single mums with sleeping kids get the horn on too, and we are within our rights to invite randoms over, this is not a post about sexual equality. The fact is, I don’t think it’s safe practice.
So I told that bozo to beat it, and deleted Tinder for the first time.
A few nights and a few wines later I joined again, I matched with a number of spunky, or interesting or funky looking dudes and conversations would go like this….
So I deleted it again.
What was I even looking for? Was it sex? Kinda, but I wanted romance and dinner and a few dates to get to know someone first, not a “R U DFT?” message.
I realised that I was just looking for some attention. I wanted someone to see my picture and pick me because they thought I was cute. I wanted them to want to dazzle me and woo me because I actually really believe in romance even though my shit be complicated and I have an entourage.
I was alone, and I was lonely. And I missed a certain somebody rather than all of these other someones.
One more slightly boozy night I joined for my third and final time. I met a dude who had a certain something. He was English with a slightly bent face like a guy in a Guy Ritchie movie and he had a tatt that I thought was kinda sexy.
We started chatting. We chatted for a couple of days, in fact. It was not dazzling banter but it was pleasant enough – maybe this is how people get to know each other? One lame question at a time…. I decided to up the ante and gave him a good ribbing to test his sense of humour and he deleted me instantly.
No response, no nothing. Just the iPhone equivalent of the Road Runner –
I deleted it for the third and final time, chuckling to myself all the while. Tinder and me, we just don’t get on…