Date #22 Stories with a Bearded-Borderline-Colleague

Have you ever met Tintin in real life? Well, I think have. With the exception that he was bearded and didn’t have a dog.

Other than that, here’s the image I’ll leave with you with so that you can picture Date #22 as you read:

[Edit: I mean the blonde Tintin, not the ginger one as it seems like there are two.]

I swiped him knowing that I recognized him, but I decided to skip pretending like I actually knew him since we had never talked, I’d just Facebook stalked him (I do that quite a lot, actually – pretend I’ve only just met someone when really, I’ve Facebook stalked the shit out of them). I had seen him before, sitting down working hard at a co-working space where we were both based. From a distance he looked inoffensive, shy and the blonde beard gave him a bit of street cred. Yes, another bearded young professional in Wellington.

“I’m so shocked, I literally can’t even stomach another hipster beard” says Mary Cherry.

I believe he made the first move, I can’t actually recall, and since editing this blog he has deleted his Tinder profile and re-joined a few times. Typical bearded men who overthink their Tinder presence…

He had pretty good chat through Tinder, though I had built up this image in my head that he would be extremely awkward and shy in real life. His photos depicted a very blonde, very bearded big kid with blue eyes and a baby face. He wore a lot of checked shirts in various colours according to his Tinder profile. Another classic lumberjack look alike, AKA Date #13. So Hipster. So Wellington.

I’m not insinuating anything here.

After some above average yet still mediocre chat, we agreed to meet for coffee at Stories on Cuba Street. I was running strangely early for my coffee with the blonde-bearded hipster and decided to go and check out more Coachella-themed stationary at Typo to kill some time. I spent about twelve minutes in a store that was hardly bigger than 3 meters wide on either side. I’m embarrassed at how often I’ve mentioned a shop that I haven’t actually spent money in. People must assume I just loiter in Typo in between all my Tinder dates. Which as it turns out isn’t far from the truth.

Is it an assumption when its the truth?
Meh

We arranged to meet during the morning coffee time frame and I made up some excuse at work about meeting a friend early for coffee as a way of taking an early lunch break. Although my dating exploits were hardly a secret to my colleagues (with my casual slutty work attire and the pash rash,) I didn’t want to admit every day that I was meeting a stranger for my caffeine fix.

On this particular occasion, it was a cold morning and my frequent Tinder dating meant that my care factor for how I looked was decreasing at a rapid pace. On this momentous occasion, I thought it was an excellent idea to wear black ponte pants courtesy of the Gla’sons with some brogues I had picked up from Hush Puppies. Not the sexy comfortable footwear that is made fashionable by Taylor Swift or the Kardashians, I’m talking about these bad boys with straight black pants:

 

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These bad boys take me all round town, slayin’ and playin’. Just sayin’

It looked terrible, but I didn’t care, and it wasn’t like checked shirts were making me feel intimidated.

Date #22 was on time and weirdly enough, we were communicating solely through Tinder. Usually I try and upgrade to personal texting devices as soon as possible as a way of storing my conversations for dis blog, but I had clearly dropped the ball this time. He was waiting for me, on the street, in the cold, unaware that I was purposely avoiding him so that I wasn’t the one waiting on Cuba Street like a weirdo. He offered to get me a hot beverage before I had even got there. 10 points to Gryffindor! Take note, Date #7.

He was shorter in real life than I had anticipated. Maybe I imagined this blonde hair, blue eyed guy to be Nordic in all aspects, but he fell short of expectations. We had a few mutual friends according to my Facebook stalk. This stalk also revealed that this guy is/was/formerly engaged within the last six months.

Call me crazy, but this merely intrigued me. One of our mutual friends also told me that he was a left-wing self-righteous twat but this didn’t really set me back either, just made me more excited to meet him. As the icing on the cake, I later found out that a previous conquest of mine told Date #22 that he had dodged a bullet which I found a) so fucking rude and b) so fucking accurate.

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I’m the one who’s got one less, one less, problem.

Date #22/Tintin talked fast and immediately gave off this non-flirty vibe. I think that was his style. It was as though I was immediately friends zoned, or I was having sex with his brother and he was trying to suss me out to see if I was worthy of his bro while politely tolerating me at the same time.

I don’t expect my dates to be drool and crotch-grabbing, but I enjoy a false sense of security when I’m on a date and am constantly reassured every three or four seconds about how great I am.

During our caffeine fix I found out three things about him.

  1. He was engaged VERY recently. I was totally a rebound Tinder date.
  2. He was previously a journalist and worked in media. This pissed me off. He was definitely going to be a better writer than my uneducated, barely comprehensible self and he was going to judge anything I wrote.
  3. He was smoother than I expected. By that, I mean he had a quick wit and talked fast. I liked that about him.

From first impressions, I thought Date #22 would be quiet and unassuming (read: boring loser) but he was a lot more put together than my Tindersumptions had led me to believe. I didn’t expect this and after 21 dates, you would think I’d have it sussed.

There wasn’t much disagreement between (from my perspective!) but I felt like his body-language and chat had friend-zoned me before I could even bring out my adorable-slutty charm on. That, or he took my previous conquest’s advice seriously. Regardless, I wasn’t too gutted.

My free coffee finished after we walked around Cuba Street making small talk about everything and nothing, therefore my time for him expired and I had to get back to work. He invited me later to attend a work event with him later on that night (my adorable slutty charm must have worked) but alas, I had another Tinder date lined up.

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This is Date #22, dodging a bullet.

 

Edit: I had written this blog thinking I was so clever for referring to him as TinTin. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one who thought he looked like TinTin. Go figure.

 

Top Tinder Tips from a Tinder Pro

First of all, misleading title. I’m not really a Tinder Pro. I would call myself a “slightly above average Tinder swiper”. Enticing, huh? Who would take tips from me when the reason why I got matches and then dates in the first place is probably a result of one (if not all,) of the below:

  1. Having a vagina
  2. One of my images is a selfie with a sloth
  3. Impressive cleavage
  4. Plain ol’ determination

I don’t even think I’m selling myself short there.

I also don’t think that my dating experience could ever be of actual use to anyone. Therefore ‘Top Tips’ is a little misleading. When my friends tell me that they’ve broken up with their boyfriends, my only real advice for them is: “have sex with his best friend!”

I did this 30DaysofTinder experiment so everyone could laugh at my bad decisions, not to help anyone else with theirs.

Anyway, here it is. Top Tinder Tips from a Tinder Pro Hoe:

1.LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS

(This one is simply too easy).

This goes for both guys and girls. Realistically, you’re not going to find the most amazing person you have ever met after swiping them and then meeting them once. If you do, you’re the exception, not the rule (thanks “He’s Just Not That Into You”!). Whilst I believe that there are a number of reasons why one may be on Tinder (I read that 10% of New Zealand’s population uses it) you’re never going to know their reasons until you message or meet them.

And for those guys with the shirtless selfies, the girls (and guys!) with the pouted duck faces,  people who take multiple selfies in general for their Tinder, and those who are a huge fan of the mirror poses – you’re probably not as hot as your angle portrays.

Therefore you need to Lower your expectations!

Are you here for true love, aka a gentleman who’s going to buy you dinner and kiss you BEFORE he taps and gaps?

Lower your expectations!

Are you using Tinder for the best sex of your life? Then you need to really:

Lower your expectations!

2. Be wary of people’s photos, bios and grammar

There is no awesome way of depicting yourself flawlessly via an application unless you’re already an Instragram Model. You’re always going to be better in real life! At least, I hope so, for your sake and for your potential Tinder luver’s.

My favourite line I’ve ever used as my bio is: “What do classy bitches write here?” and the best line I’ve ever read on Tinder is: “It’s all fun and games til I fuck your Dad”. Brutal and crass; I appreciated it. I hope that girl got a lot of matches for that.

The moral of the story is, keep the bio simple. No one wants to read a novel before they’ve even made up their mind.

Now, profile pictures:

Has anyone else noticed that people are noticeably fatter IRL than in their Tinder pictures? No judgement here, the same hold true for me too. You bet I uploaded Tinder pictures of me post break-up in a sassy play suit with a 90 degree angle cleavage shot. I’ve since gained back that break-up weight I lost when I was too sad to eat.

The other Tinder picture cardinal sin that I suggest you think long and hard about is shirtless selfies. Does anyone really want to see shirtless selfies? Since I’m all for the Dad-Bod, I was pleasantly surprised/mildly disappointed that one of my 30 Tinder Dates had a six-pack since he wasn’t a body builder and he never mentioned going to the gym.

Here’s my small list of things your absolutely shouldn’t have in your Tinder pictures

  • Sunglasses in every single photo. (Are you on the run from Police 10/7?)
  • Friends in every single photo. (Are you the token ugly or the potential Instagram model? I can’t tell = no swipe.)
  • Selfies in every single photo. (Do you ever leave the house?)
  • Alcohol being consumed in every single photo. Same goes for illicit drugs. (What am I getting myself into here?)
  • Pictures of things that aren’t you. (For example, famous people, dumb memes that no one gets, fancy cars that you could never afford and so on. Oh, and sports team flags! No one who doesn’t know you will care about a team they haven’t heard of, okay? Show me more pictures of yourself so that I can reassess this situation.)
  • The Classic DP.
  • Don’t crop your ex out of pictures. (It does not show that you’re a classy human being. And especially don’t crop them when they looked good that night! Just TAKE NEW PHOTOS. Shade thrown.)
  • Photos with cats.(Note to Melissa: girl, this is totally your Dog bias talking. I would definitely swipe right on pictures of cats, as long as the person was actually in the photo with the cat, it wasn’t just a rouge kitty. Same with pictures of dogs! And pigs. And bunnies. And – okay, all of the animals! I want to see some Noah’s Ark shit on Tinder.)

My small list of things you should have in your Tinder pictures

  • You having fun
  • You how you actually look right now, not your profile picture from 2012.
  • A few photos of you with friends so we know you have them.
  • Good angles
  • If you’ve travelled, prove it. With one or two photos. Be aware though that any more than a few seems as though you’re flighty and don’t stay in one place for long. That is, unless that’s true and you don’t. in which case you’re being appropriate with your messaging.
  • A nice 85 degree phone angle of your face.
  • Photos with dogs.

And remember that you don’t need to explain that the kid is your niece/nephew every time. We believe you.

3. To get a fuck, you need to give a fuck

Or in other words, put an effort into your dialogue.

If you settle for the first person that greets you on Tinder with a “Hey” and agree to meet up with them, you won’t be satisfied unless they are truly the exception to the rule. I’ve had some tragic Tinder encounters (pre-30 Days of Tinder!) where in some situations I settled for the sake of settling and others where I met up with them under false pretexts in the hope that it would lead to something more exciting, like an offer to ride his motorcycle (which never eventuated, we never got past the second date where he offered to pay for dinner under the condition that he could take the leftovers home. Sustainable yes, but embarrassingly cheap).

There’s something exciting about Tinder banter, which I never got to enjoy throughout my 30 Day Challenge with the exception of Date #12 and the Harry Potter chat guy. Flirty banter where you attempt to sass and outwit each other leads to an underwhelming real life meet-up where you find out that they are way funnier online than in real life.

Or it leads to something more.

4. No really, LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS

How pleasantly surprised would you be if you found out that they’re even taller than you imagined (A rare occurrence in my case, I find,) or that you were met with a screenshot of their DP before you ever met them? Yep, that’s happened to millions of girls (and guys) on Tinder.

Realistically, you’re going to run into 34 year old Geoff, or any of Tinder’s other frequent fliers, who think that deleting their Tinder every other day increases their chances of matching you, because you won’t remember the awkward, terrible conversation you had with them two days prior.

You’re also probably going to match some good-looking guy who tells you how much he likes choking. Aside from the fact he uses pictures of a German Instagram Model, no one should probably lead with the “Hi, How are you?” “Can I choke you?”

5. The rules are there are no rules

There are no rules on Tinder (apart from spamming, rudeness, illegal soliciting and being a douche bag) so it’s one of those things where you have to make your own rules for how you want to play the game. I made this rule where I wouldn’t put out for 10 Dates (sorry for telling the world, Mum!) I started this rule about a year and a half ago and shall we say that my total count for Tinder penetrations is more than the Virgin Mary’s and less than the dudes that Taylor Swift has written songs about. (I don’t know if this is true… I hope I’m not miscalculating Tay’s number in my head.)

I also had this rule about what constitutes a date: it had to be one where we go out and enjoy each other’s company, eat food and not just hang out in awkward ‘getting to know each other’ situations. This wasn’t because I was trying to restore any sort of dignity that I probably didn’t have in the first place, it was just that I’m not a fan of awkward, horrible naked encounters with someone I’m not even sure showers every day. I just need to be reassured, that they shower, y’know?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Date #21 Wines with a PYT

This was such a hard entry to start writing since I want to make it very clear that going on a date with a girl was not a token effort for this blog.

I have always been open-minded and if I could be satisfied that people weren’t going to misinterpret this, I’d leave it at that and keep writing. The thing is though, people are dicks and misread things. Even though I’m all about over sharing; it’s nice to be on a platform where it’s all on my terms.

So to clarify: I am probably straight. I can’t categorize my preferences any other way as I feel like it’s not fair to people who are genuinely bisexual or bi-curious if I claim to be something that I am probably not. Not that it matters, but can I sum up my sexual preferences with the analogy below (that I like to think I made up):

“I eat a lot of curry and sometimes, every once in a while I like to get a vegetarian curry. If I eat a vegetarian curry, it doesn’t mean I’m a vegetarian, it just means I like vegetarian curry.”

So that’s how I like to describe my sexual preferences. I’d also like to bring in a  quote from my favourite girl Mindy Kaling: “I hate it when people say ‘girl crush’. No one is going to think you’re a lesbian if you just say ‘crush’.”

So basically, I’m just normal, open minded person. Obviously I think that love is love and I change my Facebook picture to be colourful as a reflection of this (and as a token effort), but I don’t want use my sexuality as some sort of defining point. I’m a fun person to play ‘Never have I ever’ with, but otherwise I like to leave it at that. 😉

I love swiping on girls on Tinder. Unlike guys, they’re so much better at uploading nice photos of themselves, with good angles and appropriate facial expressions (and the occasional duck face). Girls have this natural gift for being able to tell which photos best show off their derriere, whereas guys are mostly too stupid or lazy to change from their default profile pictures. Like, we know that you’re not Steve Hanson or Richie McCaw holding a World Cup or a weird meme that no one gets, so why you upload it as your profile picture on Facebook and Tinder? No one will swipe you and you will be forever alone. Some free advice.

Needless to say, Date #21 had the best Tinder profile that I have ever matched, and was the best looking date I have ever been out with. She had a sassy bio with six photos showing various hair colours, close ups, long angle shots displaying her nice figure and only one selfie. Perfecto.

There was a bit of back story with her as well. I don’t know if I explained this to her very well at the time since I was actually really nervous, but I recognized her from a few years back when we were both in a bar. I was with my boyfriend at the time and drunkenly told him how attractive I thought she was. He encouraged me to confront her (like the supportive boyfriend he was) and to invite her to back to ours (like the very supportive boyfriend he was) and I remember drunkenly slurring at the time that “I didn’t want to share!” and that was the end of that. Then we stopped going to that particular bar since I got elbowed in the nose after my nose was only recently broken. Woe is me.

I also didn’t admit this to her, but I had Facebook stalked the shit out of her after that night and there was something about her which was different than the crush I have on Taylor Swift. I found this girl really endearing.

Luckily for me and unlucky for my now ex-boyfriend, she recognized me from that bar, that night too. When we matched on Tinder and she talked to me first, I was totally stoked.

When she said that she remembered me, I admitted that when I’d first met her, I’d had this wild crush on her. She was so sassy and said: “What shall we do about this? I’d love to meet you”.

Oh yes.

We chatted a little bit and then she gave me her number without my prompting. She was so much better at this than me and – unlike the communication I was exchanging with useless dudes – I was interested in what she was saying.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I was so excited that when I sent her a text and she didn’t respond I messaged her on Tinder saying ,“Hey I texted you, I haven’t heard back?”. 

She definitely knew how to be cooler than me, that was for sure. Not that its hard to be cooler than me.

I’m so lame, I put a Snowman to describe how cool I was… Good one Melissa.

We agreed to meet for wines on Monday at 5.30pm and she suggested the General Practitioner, which was great since I hadn’t really been there much (and certainly not within the last 30 days) and it was within perfect walking distance for both of us.

Unlike the minimal effort I like to put in for my usual dates, I decided to actually be there on time. I even topped up my foundation and lipstick as girls tend notice these things, boys don’t. Whilst I was waiting for my ‘crush’, Date#18 happened to walk past. We hugged and he told me I looked great and I said I was meeting a ‘friend’ for a wine. Obviously he wouldn’t have assumed it was a date if he saw that I was with a girl, but he most certainly would have assumed it was one if I was having a wine with a guy. We lied to each other saying we should catch up soon, before he went the opposite way.

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So hard to find a Craig David ‘Walking Away’ gif.

Then Date #21 showed up and she was adorably apologetic as she had just finished work. Man she was so much better than me at everything, including being late. She was as gorgeous as I drunkenly remembered just with darker features and we went off inside.

As it was my idea to meet up, I bought her a wine. I think we got chips too, I can’t remember. She nailed this wild and free vibe with this driven and determined attitude. We sort of got our sexuality out of the way and I fessed up that this was my first girl date. She defined herself more as bisexual but had recently got out of a relationship with a guy. Even though she was three or so years younger than me, she struck me as mature for her age. I was so intrigued by her background and was just so interested in whatever she was saying. It was bizarre. I never usually care that much but there was something about her, or the situation we were in where I seemed to hang onto her every word. It was getting cold and I had to cook dinner for my flatmates, but before we finished our second wine, she wanted to go out onto the balcony to have a smoke.

Even her smoking was attractive, despite the fact I find smoking rather repulsive. She looked like bad Sandy with her brows on fleek and giggling away.

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I’d like to pretend like I’m Marty but realistically I was probably a hot blend of the three of these bitches in the back all at once. Cringe.

It was so nice leaving that date, as we could finish the date like old gal pals whereas with some guys you don’t know there’s this element of awkwardness. You don’t know whether they’re going in for a kiss on the cheek, the pash, the handshake or the bump n grind. I could have had a ferocious pash like Date #10 or a crotch-grab like Date whichever that one was, I was just pleased to have finally met her.

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Seriously crotch grabber, I can diss you more since you defriended me.

 

 

Date #20 Sunday Night Stroll with a Poetic Canadian

Don’t tell my most recent ex-boyfriend this, but I met a better version of him with Date #20.  After the horrific experience of Date #19 (Don’t lie Melissa, you loved it!) I decided I needed to cut weirdos if they said anything offensive, stupid or creepy and not to meet anyone who looked suspiciously tiny. My Tinder prospects immediately dwindled.

Enter Date #20. I have zero recollection of actually swiping on him but since I was notified at some point on Sunday that I had a match, I guess we had done so during one of my mindless swipe sessions.

Date #20 went for the bold first move and said “Hi Melissa, how’s life going?”. His Tinder profile made me think that he looked like my most recent ex (which wasn’t disastrous, just a solid meh of 10,) with the exception that he was Canadian.

AND REMEMBER HOW MUCH I LOVE CANADIANS?!

Seriously.

Since I love Canadians and hate chatting on Tinder, my first reply was: “Good. Would you like to go for a coffee or a drink now?”. He seemed a little taken aback by me coming on to him at 5.30pm on a Sunday evening and said “Just please don’t be an axe murderer, that would be the fastest request to meet on Tinder.. so yes”.

S u c k e r.

I assured him that I would leave my axe at home before proposing we grab a hot drink and walk along Oriental Parade (so that I could take my dog for a walk… I was becoming really resourceful with these Tinder dates!).

I insisted that I pick him up in the Barina in 20 minutes, before asking what sort of drink he would like. He said he wanted something good for recovery, so I chose some sort of fruit juice to ease his hangover.

After I initially messaged him at 5.26pm, he was sitting in my car by 6.43pm. Now that’s what I call efficient! (And potentially desperate).

Date #20 was quite similar to my ex on quite a few fronts. He was a little shy, rather lovely and seemed like the kind of sensitive soul who would find love at the end of a movie but whose scenes would end up on the cutting room floor, so no one ever found out.

I learnt that he worked in I.T and was here on a working holiday, just like my previous lover. It was nice that he had travelled, it meant we had a little more to talk about than basic bitch topics. We tried to find our common interests, and at this point there wasn’t a lot to go off.

Things got interesting when I found out he wrote poetry. I take back what I said about finding love at the end of the movie which no one cared about, this guy was smooth. He was real. I like the idea of a man who can express his feelings in more ways than the post-coital chat.

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Have I ever told you how amazing your eyes look in this dim light, late at night?

He was sweet and genuine, I’ll give him that. I don’t think our spark went off because I was talking too much about myself to make the time go by. After our moonlit walk along Oriental Parade which was a cute setting for any first date – until Richie went for a wee poo – we walked back to the Barina and I must have driven him home. I was busting to pee by this stage and could barely string sentences together.

He messaged me at 7.47pm to thank me for the spontaneous weekend. I said that it was so lovely meeting him as well and then never met up with him again. Although he did suggest it four more times after that.

… Of course he did.

Date #19 The Best Date Ever

During my month of swiping, I matched with a guy who often used to upload selfies which hinted at a six-pack to his Tinder Moment, along with pictures of his fancy looking red car. I made the choice to give him my number early on in the Tinder game based on the prospect of excellent ab selfies. I could only imagine how the conversation would go.

He messaged me the day I got Tinder. He sent me five messages in a row before saying “Ok I will stop boring you. All the best to you”.

Ick.

Well that escalated quickly

Stage Five Clinger alert! God forbid I’m allowed to be too fucking busy to respond to a complete stranger on a phone app. I replied saying that I had been at work quite early (true) and that I go to sleep quite early (massive lie) as an excuse for not responding. He was somewhat happy with this response and sent me two emoticons in the next message telling me how cute I was. The conversation continued on a five to one message ratio, with him telling me that I was ‘so beautiful’ and ‘also you like dogs’ (clearly, that’s secondary to being ‘so beautiful’).

I asked him vaguely if he would like to meet for coffee, so that I could rip off the band aid and get this date over with. He then bombarded me with messages, saying that he was free at 4.30, whether that was okay, what I thought about this, sending a singular question mark, then telling me that “he would really like to understand what’s in my mind and that it is so rude of me.” 

Seriously, what the fuck?

Looking back on this crazy exchange, I was clearly too focused on this 30 day challenge to stop and cut my losses. I felt like if I had invested my cellphone number and a small portion of my time, I had to at least try and make amends. I faked an apology and he asked me to respond to his texts in a timely manner, since the two hour lag between my texts was simply too much for him.

That week we texted on and off:

Date #19: “Do you have any time to meet me this week?”

Me: “When do you want to meet?”

Date #19: “Saturday will be great. But I’m scared whether you will reply to me on Saturday :(”

Me: “What do you want to do?”

Date#19: “Movie or dinner? Really want something quiet.”

Me: “Dinner would be good.” [Sidenote: I hate movies on the first date].

Date #19: “Cool! I can’t believe it but am looking forward to that.”

Me: “Give me a chance! What do you do in Wellington?”

Date#19: “No worries, I just don’t like games and I’ve had enough of girls’ games! So let’s start it again! I live here I have two jobs actually, I told you about that, wbu?”

Oh he hates games?

… I should have broken it off before it started.

On the Friday I had asked him whether he would like a drink that night. He then bombarded me with about eleven messages and told me to stop “playing with him“.

I was so sick of all his shit and I hadn’t even met him yet. I decided to CALL him as I was so agitated that I was contemplating yelling. I really wanted to tell him that I didn’t actually owe him anything since a) we didn’t know each other and b) he was coming across like a serial killer

When I did call, I kindly explained that I wasn’t texting him back because I’m a massive Tinder whore who is dating the entire Wellington population  I was simply busy, but I was free tomorrow night and was able to meet up for dinner. I mentioned that I’d just had a big week of work and dating the entire Wellington region.

[Side note: I was so frustrated by this point that when I called him, I was reversing my car and accidentally rear ended my neighbour’s car. If you’re reading this, fellow Northland resident, I’m not even sorry.]

After this phone call he sent me four love-heart smiley emoticons and four love-hearts. Red love-hearts too. Is there such thing as a Stage 6 clinger?

On Saturday, he sent me a text in the morning telling me how much he was looking forward to that night. Being the cock-tease I am, I responded with a “Me too, x”. He then messaged me saying that he just saw me out with a black dog. That was true, but what he probably didn’t know was that I was off to Memphis Belle for a coffee with his predecessor. He told me then how beautiful I was with another red love-heart emoticon before asking if 7pm at Bluewater Grill on Oriental Parade suited me.

I don’t think anyone really realizes how exhausting dating can be when you have two jobs, a small dog, a big mouth and a huge appetite. You have to put in effort to be funny and adorable. My brain was full of nothing and yet I was exhausted and not even thinking about what I should and shouldn’t say to these Tinder potentials.

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Anyway, because of the exhausting life I was leading, Richie and I had a nap on Saturday afternoon at around 4.30pm when he texted me. Experts say that naps should be around 20 minutes otherwise you’re technically just asleep on a Saturday afternoon. Because I was napping for two hours, I was technically sleeping an hour before meeting Date #19 at Bluewater Grill.

Yeah.

I’m a bad person.

Instead of jumping out of bed and urgently getting ready like a good person, I just texted him asking if we could push that to 7.30pm and (naturally), fell back asleep.

Haters gon’ hate

I woke up again at 7.11pm when I realised that I was going to be late again, so I texted him asking if 8pm was going to be okay, since I was “getting ready and running late, x”.

Wheeeheeee

This guy sent me back four angry emoticons followed by a smiley face. I asked whether he had left already. Sure enough, he had and I was barely dressed and basically mucking around. I’m notorious for being late (less so since people have constantly mentioned it after reading my blog) but this was just pure bad form on my behalf. At 8.10pm, I got a text asking if I  was still coming.

I was, I just hadn’t left yet. Appropriate YOLO.

Finally, at 8.23pm – about an hour and 15 minutes after the original time, I showed up looking like Ariana Grande since I had watched a YouTube clip while I was getting ready for some inspiration. I went for the adorable look and pretended like I was so clumsy and cute, claiming that parking was so hard (given the 100 options I had outside Oriental Parade in the middle of Winter, how could I even choose?).

13 minutes of learning how to wing my eyeliner like Ariana Grande was totes worth it.

I expected him to react along these lines, since I was technically an hour and a half late:

But instead, he stood up and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.

When he stood up I had this horrible realisation:

He was a lot shorter than his Tinder pictures had led me to believe. I mean, I enjoy a bit of dramatic exaggeration, but come on, lie about the size of your dick, not your height!

He was barely taller than me and I’m 5ft! Ladies, never trust a man on Tinder that only has face shots, with no pictures of him and his friends because it either means he’s a tiny little man trying to hide it, or a loser with no friends to take pictures with. No wonder he had abs, there was only 20cm of real estate to tone!

I’m not one to get awkward but this whole night was just too much for me to grin and bear. I found out that Date #19 didn’t drink because he was religious and into his (20cm) abs and ordered a coke when I ordered a wine.

I was so excited for that wine.

I tried to be as sweet and innocent as possible and tried not to act like myself at any point. The guy was telling me how much he loved this restaurant (which has a 2.4 average rating on Zomato, FYI) and was so excited to finally meet me. He was from South America, loved his Mum and talked a lot about meeting a nice girl. He was in his mid 30’s and I could see why he was a little unlucky despite having a six-pack. He was relatively good looking, I was just shocked at how small he was in comparison to how he looked on Tinder.

I decided to get the same meal as him as he ordered a plate of grilled meat with a side salad. The conversation progressed slowly, to the extent that I checked my phone four times before our meals came out. I forgot to mention that we were the only people in the restaurant, so this poor guy was waiting for almost an hour and a half along in the restaurant sending me emoticons.

When the mains finally arrived, the only other two people in the restaurant came out (staff), one carrying the food and the other carrying a small white teddy bear and single rose.

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Man, this was actually the worst thing that could happen.

I was mortified that he had done this. I know that he was sincere but this was also kinda creepy. I couldn’t deal. I thanked him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, genuinely blushing before resuming my plate of grilled meat.

I thought that things couldn’t possibly get worse that this, but they did. When I was eating my salad (that had far too much cheap dressing flooding it), I noticed there was a moth swimming between the sauce and the lettuce.

Of course there had to be an insect in my food. This date couldn’t get better otherwise!

I didn’t want to bring up the moth situation to Date #19 because he seemed emotionally ill-equipped to handle it. However my disgusted face betrayed me and he began panicking and thinking that he had done something to offend me.

“What have I said?” “What have I done?” “Tell me Melissa, what have I done”. 

He was so quick to overreact, I would hate to see him in an actual disaster.

I finally told him about the moth and he was kinda just like “Oh okay“,  as though it was completely normal to have an insect in your salad, and then he kept on talking whilst I decided that I was full and that I needed to leave. ASAP.

When I told the waitress/only other people in the restaurant that there was a bug in my salad, they offered our desserts for free as compensation. There was no way I could stomach more food after that and, luckily, Date#19 wanted to maintain his ab real estate.

When we went up to pay (I REALLY wanted to pay half), they offered us 15% off since I dined with a moth and Date #19 blocked me out of the way to pay for my (much-needed) wine, his coke and our two mains.

Turns out he had walked to the restaurant (of course he had) so I offered to drive him home and he graciously accepted. After a five minutes of driving, we got to his and he invited me inside to watch movies.

“Sorry I’m not that kind of girl” I insisted before he pashed my face and I egged him out of the car because I was ‘tired’.

Then I drove to Motel to pash Date #1 again.

 

 

 

Date #18 Breakfast Coffee with a Bodybuilder

When you decide to go on 30 Tinder Dates in 30 Days, you figure out really quickly what your type is because you’re swiping through the entire single population of Wellington.

“Oooh, older, light hair with a Dad-bod? Yes please!”. 

Having such a type limits potential Future Boyfriends, and you may find yourself with slightly younger versions of your Dad, whose ‘Dad-bod’s might correlate to health problems later in life. Throw in a few inappropriate jokes and a German accent and I may as well just date my Dad.

Hallo, nice to meet you. You look just like my daughter.

With that a very real fear in the back of my mind (I’m pretty sure that most girls fear they’ll end up with a guy exactly like her Dad) I decided to broaden my horizons.

This wasn’t a token effort, despite my relatively relaxed attitude and low standards for Tinder prospects. I had to at least find them attractive and my rule was that I found them appealing enough to go on a date with them regardless of whether I had a 30 day quota or not.

Enter Date #18 who was the oldest Tinder date I’ve dated to date.

Get it?

Yet it still felt as though the age gap wasn’t a deal-breaking barrier. He had a kid, was from the Hutt and according to his photos, was a body builder. So basically, he was still similar to my Dad, with the exception of the whole six-pack thing.

I’m not sure whether I was attracted to the idea of going out with a body builder, but I definitely had a crush on Johnny Bravo growing up and I was open minded to someone having a rock-hard version of a Dad-Bod. Who’s to stand in the way of potential true love with someone who is guaranteed to spend at least two hours a day leaving you alone honing his hot bod?

You look pretty…I look pretty…why don’t we go home and stare at each other?

Initial contact pleasantly surprised me, as Date #18 didn’t succumb to this horrible stereotype that I unfortunately was beginning to create in my head that built guys would have personalities like Johnny Bravo. Date #18 seemed sweet, was employed and loved dogs and kids. His kid looked cute in photos too, so at least I knew in advance that he would bring some cute genes to mix with my womb.

That was so weird. I’m sorry.

Every time I go to the gym (so, twice in my entire life), I see these guys at the gym who have conversations with each other about their massive traps and I’m like:

What’s a trap?

With all of these factors in the back of my mind, Date#18 and I agreed to meet for coffee. He suggested Memphis Belle as it was his local and we confirmed a Saturday morning time of 11am. It wasn’t until the morning that we met that I realized I needed to wear something that hid my fat six/overweight eight frame that was growing rapidly with all of the free beverages and free food I was going through.. Date #18 was also a personal trainer, just to add a slight amount of pressure. I went for tight jeans and a puffer jacket to pretend like it was made to look as though I had a cute face, chubby waist, thick legs, in shape. I’m not usually one to get insecure but for someone who puts a lot of effort into their figure made me realize why I’m in preference of the Dad-bod.

Fun fact: Missy Elliot is 44 now.

I was running slightly late because of my slight outfit insecurity and ended up being at Memphis Belle before Date #18. One of my favourite things about having a dog is pretending like you’re never alone in public. I ordered a Trim Flat White and sat down on a wriggly chair, at a chipped wriggly table outside Shot Shack whilst I mourned my 17 year old self.

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I’d rather see you up there shaking dat thang.

When Date #18 finally showed up around seven to eight minutes after me, he sort of gestured to the Barista to demonstrate that he wanted his usual, before asking me if I wanted anything. He used some sort of G-Unit hand gesture to signal this, which I wouldn’t usually relate to ordering a coffee.

We decided to move to the dirty hipster couches right outside the door and I started to realise we hadn’t engaged in much conversation other than the basic facts. It’s hard communicating with so many fucking Tinder potentials and talking to at least 80 out of 500. Getting past the basic greeting with me was anyone’s success story since I refused to communicate with anyone who said anything douchey, boring or weird.

Job check, Hot bod check, anything else?

I won’t lie, Date #18 was slightly fresh, but a lot more eloquent than I expected. For one, he didn’t seem to have a comb on him to manicure his cartoon quiff and he didn’t really seem to be overly indulged in himself. Great sign. He had grey bits in his beard and I joked that it looked like Richie’s. We talked about Tinder, life in the Hutt, and my dog. He was also a big fan of dogs and had a pitbull that is currently with his ex. He didn’t really bag her in front of me, though it seemed like it was an incredibly messy breakup that I respected him for ( not bagging her out I mean, not for a messy breakup!) He loved his son, his friends and his job, it seemed. I was getting to the point where I would start saying douchey things to see if he would succumb but he didn’t seem to take the bait.

Me: “OMG do you train girls that you find are hot????”

Date #18 “Haha, sometimes”

Urgh, Come on.

Although I wasn’t overly into it, I felt like he wasn’t either. I imagine this guy usually gets with teenage bottle-blondes who wear a lot of tight dresses despite being in his thirties. That, or my puffer jacket hid my chest and he was disappointed that my cleverly angled Tinder photos were clearly a ploy. Sorry babes!

I wasn’t completely off the mark with my assumptions, Date #18 must have only planned an hour for our encounter as at 12pm his friends rocked up to pick him up for some sort of sport in the afternoon and parked next to Dreamgirls yelling at him. These guys all seemed like they were 10 years too old to be driving crappy cars and living for the weekend but I guess that’s what YOLO was invented for.

Without being too critical, I was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t actually Johnny Bravo, but I don’t trust a guy who spells his name wrong for whatever reason. I can’t deal!

Why is there more vowels in your name to prove a point?

I ended up running into him a few days later when I was meeting up with a girl where he suggested we needed to catch up again, then the next weekend too whilst I was in da clubs with another guy from Tinder. Turns out, he’s a bouncer on the weekend but let me in anyway despite holding hands with another guy. Thanks for the coffee and for letting me skip the queue!

Date #17 Coffee with a Persistent Joker

Date #17: “Did you hear about the crab at the seafood disco?”

Me: “Haha, no.”

Date #17: “Pulled a muscle.”

Me: “How often has that worked for you?”

Date #17: “I can’t say it has. Have you got any good ones?”

Me: “Well I sea some potential. Not really. I rely on being female on getting me through a lot of things in life.” [Edit: this, dear reader, is what I call ‘biting sarcasm’].

Over the course of about two weeks, Date #17 told seven shocking, cringe-worthy jokes to get my attention. I guess in some cases, persistence is key to getting any sort of attention. It worked for him, as it got to the point where I felt like I at least needed to check this guy’s photos. They showed a guy eating a double scooped ice-cream wearing a Ralph Lauren top and sunglasses, a guy doing the thumbs up for the camera with a huge toothy grin and a guy on a boat with a huge beard. He told me he liked fishing during our tinder chat when I probed him regarding who he was and what he did with his life.

I wasn’t that enthused.

Our two mutual friends were also hardly anything to go off. One of them I had slept with, and the other I met when I turned up uninvited his 21st and got inappropriately White Girl Wasted, ate a lot of delicious ham and told his Mum how hot she was.

The MILF and the ham were the highlight / only thing I remember.

In any case, this wasn’t much to go off, but out of curiosity (and a little bit of desperation) I decided to meet with the persistent joker. I’ve gotta give credit to any guy who messages often with a little bit of substance, instead of just asking what I am up too all the time. (“Hae gurl, what up?” NO. “Hey” and “Hae” have the same amount of letters, so what’s the point?).

Anyway, Date #17 also seemed like a relatively good guy and he asked how Richie McPaw was to which my immediate response was: “Let’s go out for a drink tonight.” Even though he must have replied, I didn’t respond for a week. Good to know he was keen though.

PREACH sister!

Because I bailed on the drink I had suggested the week before, we eventually agreed on a coffee instead. I liked going on Tinder coffee dates during my lunch breaks, because it meant I didn’t have to commit much time, I got to see what the guys really looked like during day time hours with no five o’clock shadow, and I was also starting to gain weight really quickly going out for dinner and drinking every night at the expense of potential future boyfriends. Dates without food meant I didn’t have to eat painfully slowly in front of them, which takes up more time. Long Black, two equals, puh-lease!

I fluctuate between a size fat six and an overweight eight.

Date #17 and I agreed to meet at Olive Cafe at 12.30, right in the middle of my scheduled lunch time. He suggested the location and because I’ve only ever had good coffee with good company there, I’ve gotta give kudos to anyone who suggests a Wellington venue with no hipster wanker vibe or pretentiousness.

Needless to say, I was being tardy/lazy and sent him a text to say that I was
“Rubbing a few minutes late”. Whoops. He at least had the courtesy to ask what I would like to drink before I got there so that it would be on the table ready. (Take note Date #6!) As it took me around ten minutes to walk up to the middle of Cuba Street I was only able to afford him 20 or so minutes which technically counts as a date, but barely.

Date #17 was rugged around the edges, in a good way. He had a wicked smile and a big bushy beard. He seemed like the type who went fishing and diving on the weekend followed by getting high during sunset. He was so relaxed and had a relatively good job in construction and was a few years older than me. He was hilarious despite the cringy Tinder jokes but I could definitely tell that I wouldn’t be his type long-term. He’d find me high-strung, I’d find him vague and ultimately, I hate fishing and can’t swim.

Can’t swim soz!

We were having a good laugh and I was stoked we weren’t eating since this was a sit-down classy lunch place. I awkwardly requested a take away cup when the coffee was ordered so that I could make a quick getaway, free coffee in tow. I gave him a bit of grief about his tragic jokes and spent a majority of the time dishing it out to him that it wasn’t a successful way of pulling. He agreed that it wasn’t the best, but used me turning up as a testament to what his shit jokes have done.

Well played. 

About 16 minutes in, I dropped the bombshell that I had to go back to work. Truth was, I was meeting my co-worker to buy some dry-shampoo at the make up sale since the day before when I was meeting the Canadian I found out when I got there that the building had flooded courtesy of the Victoria Street development.

The Emotional Stages Of Online Shopping Addiction In GIFs photo 9
Do you even know how expensive Batiste is in New Zealand?

The date ended with an awkward hug, and a laugh. He even asked me out on the Friday evening for drinks at Dragonfly where we hung out for a couple of hours, had heaps of rounds (instigated by him) before insisting we pay half and sticking his tongue down my throat.

We didn’t hang out again after that. He moved to Mexico.