Shit Tinder chat has got to be amongst one of the worst things ever in the category of First World Problems. Nothing is more tedious than a “Hey, how are you?” At this current time, 39 individuals have approached me on tinder with this opening line. For all 39 people who didn’t get a reply from me and still want to know: I’m mostly fine, a little cloudy with a slight chance of rain. I’m a little windswept and hungry. Most of all, your initial interaction is so disappointing that I’m assuming that any further communication with you won’t improve the mood situation. How are you?
Just to clarify, I’m not here to empower myself, make a statement for all of those single ladies out there, or try to reinvent the wheel. This is just an experiment to prove that one guy who shared my bed wrong.
Luckily for those who love detail, believe me I’m not one to shy away from it. I’m always the one over sharing in the queue at the supermarket, in line for coffee, to my staff members, and to my superiors about what intimate details I did on the weekend. Nothing really holds me back. Sadly for the unlucky ones who date me, they know my entire sexual history before they’ve even asked me if I’d like a second drink. Which only proves beneficial on public holidays.
Date #1 had approached me on the Tuesday, the day after I joined Tinder, and by Friday we had arranged to meet. His first message was guaranteed to get any dog-lover interested.
1#: ” Heya stranger, I just bought a puppy yesterday. I’m the happiest boy in the world haha. You work with Shaniqua*?”
I had to check his Tinder profile to see what he looked like. I was being incredibly open-minded about this entire experiment, and had very loose requirements as to who and what I was matching with. Generally speaking, I prefer tall guys with broad shoulders and Dad-bods. I’m not overly fussed other than that in terms of appearance. I like guys who have good chat, great humour, are easy-going and self-assured.
Date #1 had carefully selected his Tinder pictures as he clearly has some amateur photographers on his Facebook friend list taking some Snapstar-like photos of him out and about. He wasn’t smiling or looking at the camera in any of his pictures, and was completely tattooed up. Photos showed that he had an impressive, slightly ginger beard and seemed slim but not too skinny without the athlete bod. No Dad-bod meant that there was going to have to be some fantastic chat to make up for it. I wasn’t joking about having a thing for them.
I’m exhausted after a work week and the idea of going out on a cold, windy Friday was by far the worst one ever, but I knew that three days into rejoining Tinder I had to get out there and start hustling up these dates, otherwise it was going to get harder. I decided to break every single safety rule ever about meeting strangers on Tinder and somehow ended up inviting date#1 over to my house. I felt relatively confident in this decision because I did confirm with a mutual friend that he was harmless (phew!) but mainly because I was too tired and too lazy to put on make up and be “dated”.
It’s 8pm when date #1 asks whether I’m cute enough for red-wine wielding ginger bearded visitors after I had just explained that I was already in a pink onesie and settling in for the night. After a bit of flirting and confirmation that he would leave if it got weird, we agreed that he would come over to mine and we’d drink wine and watch something puppy related. This was perfect, all I had to do was provide the wine and arrange a movie. I put on minimal make up, got changed into a t-shirt and jeans and even had a shower as a bonus for my date. Forty-five minutes later, there was a knock at my door.
First impressions of Date #1 was that he was pretty similar to how his pictures portrayed him except he was actually looking in my direction. I felt somewhat comforted that he was a little shorter than I had originally thought, and immediately commented on this.
“You’re a lot shorter than I thought!”
Luckily for me and unfortunately for Date #1, my flatmate Mon was at the dining table ready to grill this guy and evaluate whether or not he was a serial killer. He had brought expensive cider and one of the new Whittakers blocks with him which meant that if all else fails and this date was utter shit, I was at least enthused about trying this flavour of chocolate. Date #1 was relatively easy to talk to, seemed genuinely nice and easy on the eye. He and Mon even managed to bond over designer necklaces and she showed him a designer that he hadn’t heard of on her phone.
About half an hour into our wines, cider and chocolate, Mon decided that being a third wheel on a first Tinder date was getting boring and was wanting to go to a party in Aro Valley to have her own Tinderventure. She asked if I could drop her off since I had only had a glass of wine at this stage. Date #1 was relaxed and chilled (surprising, given the amount of exclamation points he had written at the end of every sentence) about the entire situation and we all hopped in my Holden Barina to head to Aro Valley
Poor Date #1 got to experience my terrible taste in music (Too Little Too Late – JoJo) and my erratic driving skills, all within an hour of the first date. I felt like I was the one who was supposed to be judging him but already he was beginning to know more about me than I was wanting to let on in the first date of 30.
Once we got back to the flat, we were home alone and decided that this was a good time to settle in and watch the dog-related movie that we had agreed on. I knew that watching a movie in bed was a bold move for a first Tinder date, too bold for a classy bitch like myself so I had arranged for the movie to be on my laptop and prepared our gigantic beanbags to ensure maximum opportunity to initiate the dreaded friend-zone and zero opportunity for whatever it is that could happen under the bed covers for those bold girls on Tinder.
I chose the classic “Marley and Me” since Date#1 hadn’t seen it and we settled in where there was a grey blanket shared between our two gigantic bean bags. By 25 minutes into the movie we were cuddling – I lied about being a classy bitch. His spoon is something that is seriously worth mentioning on this blog as it was up there with the Best Spooners of ALL TIME in my entire spooning history. He had this firm but safe grip on me and held tightly, but didn’t make me feel uneasy or unsafe. It was incredible and I felt extremely comfortable in his arms. By this stage, I wasn’t even focused on the fact that we had just met an hour and a half ago. Nor did I care. The only thing I really cared about at this point was that I didn’t want him to let go.
After 30 minutes of spooning and watching “Marley and Me”, I went in for the kiss. It was soft and gentle but I could tell he was holding back as it was our *~first*~ kiss. He used minimal tongue (Because we weren’t in The Establishment) and he just softly massaged my bottom lip with a little bit of his tongue and sucked gently on it. 10/10 would pash him again, I was genuinely stoked.
After our pretty amazing first kiss, we were about 34 minutes into the movie. By this stage, I was completely over this movie and struggled to stay awake. Marley was still a puppy at this stage and I fell asleep in Date#1’s arms for the next half of this movie. I forgot how long this movie was and it felt like I was asleep for at least an hour. I cannot recall snoring but I realised when I woke up that I definitely had drooled all over my arm. Classy. I think I mentioned it to my Date who was once again not phased by drool, nor this entire experiment and just laughed it off, realising then that he scrunched his nose up when he laughed.
I was borderline ready to throw this entire experiment out the window after I saw that nose scrunch as everything about Date #1 was incredibly natural and relaxed. Nothing seemed to phase him, which is a good contrast for my crazy bitch personality. But alas, I was committed and I still had 29 dates to go.
Best moment of the night occurred when my Dad arrived at midnight to drop off my dog before he went to work. When I walked back down the stairs into the living room with the dog, Date #1 was re-adjusting his pants after our semi-hot and heavy spooning session. I only got a glimpse, but I will say that it enhanced my opinion of him and the night in a positive way.
With that, it was getting late and for the record Date#1 was not going to stay the night. After a few more PG rated kisses to end the night, I walked him to the door and asked him to message me to let me know that he got home alright.
*Shaniqua is not her real name. Unfortunately.