I went on a date on Friday night and bloody hell it was fun. I mean it was fun afterwards when he left and I met up with my friends down the road. Before that I was just having a dosa curry with a hippy I didn’t know.
I’ve learnt from Tinder dates that you mustn’t go in with pre-conceived notions. You can’t assume the person is going to be down to earth just because they use good grammar, or funny because of impeccable timing with emoticons. And you certainly can’t assume someone with a beard won’t be camp. Preconceived notions leave you with nothing but initial shock and surprise followed by an evening trying to think up a believable and polite escape excuse.
So on Friday I went in with no expectations. I tried not to read too much into the coolness of his texting style and the modesty of his picture use. Because I liked those traits you see, and something as simple as that sets you up for disappointment. I just thought ‘well this guy isn’t trying too hard and doesn’t have tickets on himself’. And I left it at that. Meaning I completely ignored the fact that he was sitting in a Combi van in one of his pictures and explicitly said he was a “travel junkie” and “sun chaser” in his profile.
While he wasn’t full of himself, the real world translation of his relaxed texting style was I’m a friendly-laid-back-hippy-type. He literally told me about three minutes before I met him that his hair was a lot longer than in his pictures. To him, telling me about his long curly locks was a good way to help me spot him, but little did he know that kind of thing is a key deciding factor in someone showing up to a date.
As soon as I walked into the pub and we saw each other I could feel the disappointment radiate around the room. Pretty sure it was from both of us because I think he was banking on this Tinder profile picture I use. My mistake.
I’ve taken it down now.
It’s hard to explain what it was about our obvious incompatibility, but it’s definitely to do with personal style or auras or something. And I’m pretty sure he was stoned. The conversation was fine, he was intelligent and worldly and had some interesting stories like having to flee Africa as a kid and almost dying when something in his brain burst. I like interesting people with stories. But when you specifically meet up with someone in hope of being attracted to each another, well you kind of just don’t want to be there if you’re not. Plus I like funny people, and I did not laugh once. I get bored if I don’t laugh at least once every five minutes. It’s a condition.
He had travelled an hour to meet me which was pretty nice, so I couldn’t run away after one drink, so we went and had dinner in one of Tooting’s favourable curry houses. Afterwards we split the bill, chatted while he smoked a stinky cigarette, hugged (I hate hugging strangers) and I will probably never see him again.
The whole thing has turned me off the idea of Tinder, again. But too bad for me, I have to keep playing because last week I told the internet that I was going to do it.
I said seasons are changing and they are, it would be lovely to have someone to keep my tootsies warm at night. But that is a nice to have. What I really need is some solid blog content to see me through until we all go on Christmas break.
I’m going to try and have at least one Tinder date a week. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Do not for one second think I enjoy this shiz. I was banging my head into a door with nerves last Friday. I’d rather do naked yoga every day than blind dating.
But it’s good for me, I need to use the experience as an opportunity to practice meeting with strangers and getting stories out of them in short amounts of time.
Maybe I’ll throw some women in the mix too, why not? Nah. Based on the feedback I’ve had on my last experience, some lesbians don’t appreciate it.
But just to be clear so you don’t think I’m making a mockery of the system; I’m open to all the normal things people are open to when blind dating. I just don’t really believe Tinder will be able to deliver. But you know, doesn’t have to be Tinder.
Hey there, if you’re a single Londoner, get in touch. If you’re not, share with your friends, maybe they are. But you would probably know otherwise they’re probably not really your friends. I’m rambling. Later skater.