Date #6 Cocktails with a boy from the Taranaki

After Date #3, #4 and #5 some of you must be wondering whether I was intentionally swiping on douchebags to get a better story for my blog. To clarify, this was absolutely not the case! My standard was to maintain true to myself and I made a rule before I started this challenge that I could only date guys during these 30 days who I genuinely found attractive and wanted to meet – otherwise I would purposely date bogans and relish the awkward moments that comes with dating socially awkward guys. Like this guy, who deletes and resets his Tinder every couple of days.

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No really, resetting your Tinder every day will definitely make me want to swipe you more every time I see you pop up.

Upon a first glance, Date #6 seemed like a genuinely nice guy and looked like a massive babe. His selection of photos showed him surfing and snowboarding. The one up close photo depicted a great looking guy with amazing eyes, a genuinely nice smile and a strong jawline ( *swoon* “That Jaw though” said no one ever). The quality of the face shot didn’t seem to have originated from a camera phone with many MP’s – maybe he was yet to upgrade from his iPhone 3G or his first camera phone ever. I don’t know, I wasn’t going to invest much thought into it.

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I lied. I invested a lot of thought into this. “Do you snap your phone shut after taking a poor quality photo for your Tinder profile?”

We had one mutual friend who was a guy that I had pashed in Madame Peacocks only a few weeks prior to the 30 Day challenge in town, after going to a work function wearing something that Britney Spears would wear in a music video (after the bald head days of hot mess Britney).

My drunk, blurry memory of that particular night consisted of losing BD in town and deciding that I was drunkenly content being a lone wolf in town before meeting said guy I pashed and bonding over girls who walked by us and rating them out of 10. He insisted he wasn’t into girls that he met in town. Then we started kissing and I drunkenly instructed him to use less tongue during our pash rendezvous.

I originally invited him back to my house guaranteeing him that there would be no action further than a pashfest (with minimal tongue) before Ubering home alone when I realised that I didn’t feel like sharing my bed with anyone. Probably a good thing since when I had arrived home, Richie had taken a dump by my door in my absence which I drunkenly had to clean up. Awesome.

Arrived home to my dogs poo wearing this.

Regardless of that mutual friend, Date #6 and I seemed to get along pretty well through Tinder chat and I decided not to bring up Richie’s bowels or how I had pashed our one mutual friend when we would finally meet. When he asked for my number because “his Tinder kept crashing”, I happily obliged due to my motives and that he was genuinely a massive babe.

Over a few messages, we established each others last names as he didn’t want to save my number as “Melissa Tinder”. When he made the comment that we both had unusual names I made the natural progression to how the conversation was clearly going by the third or fourth text in.

Date#6: “Both unusual last names”

Melissa:” If we get married we should make our kids have hyphenated names”

Date#6: “Pump. The.Breaks. Sounds good.

Melissa: “What? You aren’t in this for the long hall?

Melissa: “Hahaha haul* I’m exhausted”

Date #6: “We will need a long hall to fit all the bedrooms at this rate. Kids bedrooms that is.”

Melissa: “Haha Are you short?”  [German subtly is one of the less fortunate traits I inherited]

Date #6: “Mid level, 5ft 11 or so…

Melissa: “Great, I can work with this”

This slightly above average text banter continued over the next few days. Our conversation had sparked on the Wednesday and had allegedly agreed to meet on the Saturday. Problem was, I was bed shopping with Date#2 by the time he texted me at 3.47pm and I made up terrible excuses and pretended like I was too busy for him ( Busy dating other guys muahaha). Date#6 suggested that we go to the City Gallery on the Monday and by the time I responded (because I was in the middle of dating Date#4!) he was off surfing for the rest of the day but that he “was easy” and to “let him know when I’m free next”.

I texted him the next day. Meat only stays good to eat once its defrosted for a few days. (Worst analogy ever, but you get the picture.) We had agreed to meet for coffee that day, then life/work got in the way for the both of us and it ended up becoming a drink at 8pm, at Library. I then pushed it to 8.30pm since I had to drop Richie home after doggy daycare. God, I hate myself and feel sorry for anyone crazy enough to hang out with me for leisurely purposes. Thankfully I was only running four nine minutes for Date #6. As it was rainy, I decided to wear my work clothes even though I had enough time to change. I covered myself in more perfume to hide any potential wet dog smell (from Richie, not me!)

When I got to the bar, I saw him sitting at a table by the window. He got off his seat and we did this incredibly uncordiniated meet and greet gesture, I can’t put words to describe it… was it an awkward hug, or an arm grip? To top it off, the first I said to him was “Let’s hope you’re not a serial killer!”. Smooth Melissa. He was so confused by my upfront accusation and didn’t know how to respond and followed the awkward arm grip hug with a “Huh? Oh, um, yeah… haha”.

Our banter warmed slightly after that rocky start. He was a farm boy from the Naki and had just come back to New Zealand from travelling overseas for a few years. He was starting a business in Wellington and didn’t know many people, hence why he was on Tinder. He seemed clever and grounded although we didn’t have much in common past the travel banter. It was going smoothly enough to get two desserts to share as it was 2 for 1 on Wednesdays. He got the Peanut, Caramel & Popped Corn Ice Cream Sundae and I got the Organic Raspberry & Pineapple Sorbet. His was clearly better and I was shamelessly just eating his as well as mine because he was just picking at it. It got to the stage where they just ended up melting, to my horror. I couldn’t do anything about it without being incredibly hungus.

Before I excused myself to go to the bathroom, I dropped another terrible Melissa joke ” Don’t spike my drink when I’m gone” which fell flat yet again. Seriously, why do I do this to myself?

I reflected on my poor choice of words in the bathroom

When I came back, the date was wrapping up since our melted uneaten desserts had already been taken away and we were starting to outstay our welcome. I hate lingering. I started to put my coat on and got my wallet out prepared to pay except Date #6 was already four steps physically in front of me and had his wallet out even though I gave the bar my credit card when we arrived and ordered the first round. It was even more awkward that my card was then returned to me and I struggled to engage in conversation further than “thank you” and “this was great”.

Date #6 and I walked down the stairs out onto the footpath where we engaged in yet another awkward arm grip hug thing. He was a near perfect gentleman albeit, a shy one and I guess I overestimated him to be as funny as his texts. Perhaps I had built him up in my head that he was even better looking than his pixelated photos. Although he didn’t walk me to my car around the corner, I did offer him a ride home as it was rainy which he politely declined.

A few minutes after our final awkward arm grip hug, he imessaged me a pin to his current location which was somewhere near KFC was on Cambridge Terrace. For fear of having to find another Beyonce embarassed gif to describe what I could have said in response to this bizarre out of the blue notification of his location, I took a leaf out of Ronan Keatings CD and said nothing at all.

He followed up after the location whereabouts text.

Date #6: “Did I send that”

Melissa: “Yep”

Date #6: “I’m not even sure how? My phone was in my pocket… I don’t even know how to send that. Haha.”

Melissa: “I bet that’s what guys who send dick pics say”

Date #6: “Hmmm, FYI don’t follow that, you’ll go to the wrong house. Haha, yeah I think I probably would know how to send a dick pick but I’m sorry to say – ones not coming.”

Date #6: “But seriously, how does it send a location?”

Melissa: ” I’m not sure sorry! Was nice to meet you.”

Date #6: “Seriously I’m not sure how that happened – I’m not that bold. Anyway, yeah it was nice to meet you too. If you would like to do something again, let me know.

Following this nice touch to the end of the night and the satisfaction I received that he wanted another date even though I had dropped two awkward jokes, the conversation went on for a few weeks of plans and never quite cemented a second date. But I still maintained at that stage a 100% success rate asking for a second date and even got a free dessert!

Date #5 Zoo Times with another Londoner

After Date #4 it was becoming harder and harder to maintain enthusiasm and energy to meet these randoms. Why would I put aside time for those I don’t know when I was barely putting time aside for people I do know? The thing about friendship is that you talk about things you can relate to the other person with and you actually care somewhat about their life – depending on their ranking of friendship. With Tinder dates you have to introduce yourself, stick your chest out and maintain attractiveness for at least an hour. It’s tedious. Regardless, I’m the type of person who will do something to completion no matter how tired or annoyed I am with the situation (All my exes would agree). Since I refuse to give up, I was going to persistently continue to date no matter how tired, annoyed, or bored I was at the prospect.

Enter, Date #5. He messaged me with a relatively good opening line and excellent grammar.

Date #5: “Hi Melissa, I like your profile picture. You look dangerous – like ‘Don’t look at me! I will drink you under the table’. But you would lose.”

Melissa: “Most likely. I would go out trying. And collapse and vomit. But I mostly keep it together”

Date #5:  “Very chivalrous of you. Think I ‘d pop you in a taxi at that point. :) your dog in your second picture is cute! I love dogs. I used to have an Airedale terrier that looked kind of like yours called rustic… he was naughty but adorable.”

The conversation continued with a little bit of dog banter, after which he revealed that he worked in sales, was originally from London, and came here a couple of years ago. The tinder conversation peaked with the brilliant line of “Mystic Melissa you are a lady of mystery…” and  he ended the conversation that night with “Just got into my amazing bed need my beauty sleep lol drop me a line 02********.”

Wait, why was there even a lol in there?

Inappropriate loling makes me go

Date #5’s photos consisted of a range of images with two shirtless self portraits, (not of his rock hard abs – he had more of a two back), one selfie, two photos of him with girls in them and one photo of him in suit and tie with his mouth wide open.

I wasn’t put-off by this point. Shirtless pictures are always a concern when you’re not a body-builder, a personal trainer or a model but hey, this is a 30 Day challenge and I’m open minded. Let’s hope his weight hasn’t changed too much, and that the shirtless selfie isn’t outdated – this is always a concern with guys who upload their Facebook profile picture from 2012 as their Tinder profile picture because “they haven’t got around to changing it” or “I don’t use facebook/take photos much”. Metabolisms slow down and being a single guy means more beer nights with the boys. Let me just leave it at that without directing this at anyone in particular.

Date #5 and I continued to converse over text and share pictures of dogs. At least I wasn’t going to have a repeat of #4 as he had photographic evidence of his dogs/friends dogs, and seemed entertained by my dog stories. He even suggested that we go to the zoo, knowing that I was a dog lover, and that he would pick me up at 1pm the following day. He sent through a picture of the weather forecast to assure me of what the weather would be like for extra brownie points.

On the day, I received a call from a random number and answered it relatively hastily. To my surprise, it was date #5 simply wanted to confirm the details and to push the time to 2.30. He recognized that I was yet to save his number (Do you know how hard it is to juggle Tinder boys?!) which he called me out on and I brushed it off as though I wasn’t even phased by his slight dig. There was also some persistence that he wanted to pick me up from my house to meet the ‘little fella’.

My being late to dates was finally coming to bite me in the ass, as Date #5 was running even later than he had predicted. Thankfully I was at home and able to resume life in the interim instead of waiting like a loser at a Café. His excuse for his tardiness was brilliant, and one that I definitely needed to utilize myself at least once throughout this 30 Day Challenge.

“I had a little bit of a dilemma what to wear and just found quite possibly the worst or best odd sock combo in the world” [Editor’s note: extremely disappointing sock combo upon inspection]

When he finally arrived, he knocked on my door and had this adorable British accent. He was much shorter than I had anticipated – crafty photo angles had worked in his favour and I’m sure he was stoked that he was taller than me. As we walked up to his car, it made so much more sense that he wanted to pick me up. He had a really nice car. This was the part where I was supposed to be gushing over his car and soothing his ego. I adhered to this to appease him and said “Omgah, kewl car!” when really, I was a lot less impressed and more focused on how well he had done portraying himself taller than he was.

Date #5 was relatively new to Wellington and it was agreed upon getting into the car that I would give him directions to the zoo from my house. For those who are close to me, I have a terrible sense of direction and can’t function as a human being very well if I’m the front passenger in a car (which isn’t very often these days). I prefer to treat it like an Uber ride and be silent on my phone the entire time, much to my ex’s anger “You don’t even talk to me, you just text on your phone!”.  I’m totally aware of this massive personality flaw, as many arguments over two years stemmed from this behavioural trait. Anyway, just to clarify – THIS WASN’T ONE OF THOSE TIMES. I was the most perfect travel companion as I had my good-Tinder-date-future-girlfriend game on. Within 90 seconds though, Date #5 was digging into me and gently mocking me for my shit direction-giving which had nothing to do with his lack of comprehension ( he could barely see over the drivers seat in his sports car). This was fine though, I could handle being blamed indirectly for him not seeing of the dashboard, especially since following the gentle mocking of my shit direction-giving he said that he hated it when girls took him too seriously.

When we got to the zoo we had to park a little further down the drive since Date #5 didn’t want birds to poop on his car as he had just polished his baby that morning. I was okay with that, I can walk 300 metres without crying.

“I really hate when birds crap on my car”

Kudos points went to Date #5 when I got my wallet to pay for the zoo and he pushed in front to foot the bill. Because I like to keep things relatively fair, I offered to get the coffees but once again Date #5 insisted on paying. We ended up having to look at the pygmy monkeys for like 15 minutes since the barista at the zoo couldn’t quite grasp the concept of making coffees within five minutes. When we finally did get our coffees, Date #5 was pissed and short with the barista that his flat white wasn’t a large.

As we started our tour of the zoo, I became super excited that I got to show this guy a kiwi within the first 30 seconds of being in the enclosure. We only had two hours or so of time at the zoo due to his odd sock debacle making him late.

During the time that we were looking at the leopard, Date #5 did a cringy impression of Borat “You’ll never get this”, which up until drafting up this blog I had assumed was a quote from King Julien in the Madagascar movie. Regardless of this minor detail, I had a brainwave of who this guy reminded me of. He was just King Julien!

Nailed it

Without boring my beloved readers of the relatively smooth sailing transaction of this date (which ended with a ride home, a walk to my door and a kiss on the cheek) the actions following the date and the arrangement for a second date were simply too good to miss out.

The night after our date, I received a call from Date #5 who proceeded to tell me about his day. I didn’t think we were at the stage of sharing how our day were details but I was glad he felt comfortable enough to do so. He was bitching about his flatmates and after 15 minutes of hearing about it, I was too tired after a day at work to care and made up the pathetic excuse that “I have to go… and have a shower before my flatmate does”

Wait, what did I just say?

During and following this phone call, we agreed to hang out on the Friday for Tapas (and a giggle according to his txt?). Organising second dates this early in the game was a risky choice as I still 25 dates to plough through and ended up double booking myself on the Friday night with Date#3. For some bizarre reason, I chose to ditch Date#5 because of the whiny phone call where he bitched about his flatmate and hung out with Date #3 instead only to get my crotch grabbed. Karma.

Conversations with Date #5 started to desist since he was a little pissed that I had ditched him on the day of the day ( I gave him eight hours notice!) but by this stage we were FB friends and he even added me on LinkedIn. Whilst I was doing the write up for this blog entry, I checked his Facebook to see what he had been up to only to find that he had blocked me! Possibly he was a little offended by the whole 30 Dates in 30 days thing even though I had notified most of these guys prior. To ensure there was no hard feelings, I thought I’d txt him.


Nope, no hard feelings!

Date #4 Coffee with a Cynic

Date #4 was assumingly a frequent flyer on Tinder as we had matched every single time I had signed up since I joined beginning of 2014. Tinder and I had an on again-off again relationship. Like Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee. With less Hepatitis C and hopefully less leaked sex-tapes.

Even though I don’t recall ever having a conversation with Date #4 worth remembering, I thought it would be a fantastic opportunity for Tinder to hopefully surprise me. He seemed quite good-looking and looked great in his photos with zero selfies. This was a good sign that he has a life or that he had his tinder perfected by the women in his life (which is also indicates that he’s also been friend-zoned by these women). First picture was him and a friend wearing a black t-shirt and sunglasses. The second photo showed him alone wearing a nice shirt and tie. The third, the same outfit ( let us hope it was the same day as the first photo otherwise he must really love that look). The fourth photo showed him once again, in a shirt, tie and this time a jacket. Bonus! He was next to a friend also wearing a suit and tie and one would hope it was taken a few years ago as he looked younger in this picture than he did in the first three shots (unless I’m about to date Benjamin Button?). He had two more photos which depicted him in the exact same outfits as two, three and four. In three out of six photos, he’s holding a beer.  In five out of six photos, he’s wearing the same tie. The last photo had him posed next his friend with his butt pushed out and his friend squatting on him at either at the races or a wedding. A classic photo to show that he has a sense of humour.

Fucking hilarious

Date #4 started off the conversation with a winning opening line.

Date #4: “Hi:)”

Melissa: “We’ve met before”

Date #4: “We’ve matched before. But not met:)

Date #4: “And I’d be happy to change that if you are.”

Melissa: “Ok. Guess you haven’t had much luck”

Date #4: “Define luck? :) no I just realise we’ve matched twice now, and have intended to meet, but never did. So would rather cut the mucking around and find out if you’re keen or not!”

Melissa: “Yeah I’m keen”

Date #4: “Cool :) free this weekend?”

Melissa: “For you I could be”

Date #4: “Provocative :) and I’m assuming that’s a yes. Cool, I’m free all day Sunday”

We then agreed to meet at Midnight Coffee on Cuba Street at 11am the following day. Surprisingly, I was running 20 minutes late and rescheduled at 10.41am to meet at 11.30am which he was fine with. At 11.42am, I sent him a message saying “I’ve just done the world’s best or worst parallel park – see you soon” and at around 11.49am, I finally arrived. 19 minutes late is bad form and I could tell this was becoming a habit I would struggle to break.

Richie and I arrived at Midnight Coffee to quite a handsome dark young guy sitting down with his gym bag. We realised quite quickly that this establishment wasn’t dog-friendly and I suggested we went down to Dukes to grab a coffee.

When we finally sat down at Dukes, I finally got a decent look at him. He wasn’t bad-looking and definitely would look fantastic with a Dad-bod in years to come. He had nice features, strong dark brows and had a nice smile. For some pathetic reason, I couldn’t overlook the fact that his t-shirt had piles in it. He was also obviously semi-unenthused about Richie, something that I immediately couldn’t understand since he said he liked dogs.

Date #4 was a baby corporate in the big bad world of boring occupations. After about three minutes of conversing with him, I figured out why he was single and it wasn’t because of the piles in his shirt or his inability to be excited around Richie. I mean, I’m not asking for much. Just pat my fucking dog in a way that doesn’t look begrudging.

Richie was, needless to say unenthused about this lacklustre pity pat and refused to associate with Date #4 after that.

How every guy should act around my dog

Date #4 was a self-confessed bogan who listened to a lot of Rammstein growing up. Perhaps this was the reason why everything he said had such a negative undertone. The struggle was real to converse about anything without it resulting in something negative. He seemed to put a lot of blame on the fact that he was a middle child ( Lulz I’m a middle child too) and seemed to hate his job and was discontented with life.

Best Douche Bag moment of the day went to Date#4  when he made the brilliantly generalized, and sexist remark “Of course, you’re a girl” as a way of explaining why I was so excited about materialistic things.Which obviously meant that every single woman has a tendency towards shiny brand things. I was mortified. I just told him I was looking forward to upgrading my laptop?! The moment was emphasized when he started to go on a tangent on how we work to please other people and that he didn’t see the point in new things and that he just wanted to save money. He even sold his car because he didn’t see the use in it.

“Right? I just love the bus so much!”

It was getting to the point of the conversation where I was starting to feel bad for the guy. Possibly I was being too harsh? Maybe he made one stupid remark generalizing women loving shiny things and I over reacted? When we united over the fact that there was no step by step book and paint by numbers way of dealing with life once you graduate and get a job,  I started to really feel like he was deeply unhappy without even knowing he was and will be forever unsatisfied with life. When I tried to suggest that he needed to do things to make him happy, he made the comment that I just work hard to show others that I’m working hard.


It reached crunch time during the date where I was starting to become genuinely offended by his incorrect psycho-analysis of me. I didn’t tell him that I found him to be an angry anti-feminist who hates shiny things, with piles on his shitty t-shirt but I did lie and say that I had to do other things in the afternoon (like stare at a blank space on my ceiling memorizing the lyrics to Gangster’s Paradise) and wrapped up the date. I offered him a ride to wherever he was going which he thankfully declined and got a bonus awkward hug to really seal the deal. He was off to the gym to get the best value for money out of his bus fare and I was off to look at shiny things and to show people how hard I work.

Did I ever hear from him again? Well, 22 minutes after we parted ways, Date #4 send me a message on Tinder “Hey was nice to meet you – sorry I meant to ask for your number if that’s cool? :)”

Needless to say, we never spoke again.

Date #3 Gin and Tonics with the first JAFFA

It is Sunday afternoon when I realise that I need to get my third date in for the day whilst I’m out in Silverstream taking some photos of a campaign for work. I’m already exhausted having to make an effort with these random guys to sort out and arrange these dates. Brunch was off the cards with any Tinder potential that morning since I had already arranged to have brunch with the BF who was down for the weekend.

Date #3 depicts himself on his Tinder profile as “Just an average bloke really”. Ooh, captivating! His first photo shows him on Oriental Parade looking like he’s playing table tennis with a backwards cap and is not facing towards the camera. Ooh mysterious and average. His second photo shows him with a bourbon and coke in his hand, shirtless, in tight, white short shorts displaying a tiny amount of pubic hair and is clearly intoxicated in the shot. The third photo shows him (one would assume) and four other friends butt naked with their backs facing the camera on a mountain somewhere holding what could be interpreted as their ‘average blokes’. The fourth photo is a face shot with once again a backwards cap and between two girls, neither of which looked like his Mother.

The conversation starts with him offering me a compliment.

Date #3: “You have great assets”

Melissa: “You have a nice butt”

Date #3: “Thank you, do you know which butt it is?

Melissa: “Nope, Not the black one?”

Conversation with Date #3 sped up pretty quickly as by the fifth message, he asked me out for coffee/nibbles over the weekend. On the Saturday, he texts me to remind me whether we were still on for Sunday to which I replied “Sounds good”. He then reminds me on the Sunday again and said “Heya, will I get the pleasure for a quick drink or you got cold feet? :).”

I texted him upon remembering that I had to get a date sorted at 5pm (I pre-arranged a lot of dates that never actually eventuated and constantly only replied to the top of my Tinder feed. Tough love!) We arranged to meet at Vinyl bar on Courteney Place at 6pm. I was somewhat ill-prepared driving back from Silverstream and was wearing the same outfit from Friday night with very minimal make up. Date #3 got extra brownie points when he said that my dog would be able to get into Vinyl and that “Richie McPaw is a legend, he’ll get let in anywhere.”

An obvious reaction to anyone who flatters Richie McPaw in my presence

Once again I was actually running early since I didn’t run home to get changed or ready. I had half an hour to kill at 5.30pm so I visited a friend’s house close to Taranaki St with Richie where I lay down on my friend’s couch (yet another ex-Tinder luver) and got my head patted for forty-five minutes before deciding that 20 minutes was enough time for Date#3 to wait and tottled down to Vinyl Bar.

When I got there, I was extremely apologetic to Date #3 for being late (Soz, was getting my head patted!) and insisted we sat in the outside area to avoid any other Tinder dates seeing me on the street view. I carried Richie through the bar and more or less declared that I wanted a gin and tonic before going outside, leaving my poor date to fund my lifestyle. Not very Beyoncé of me to assume he would pay and when he got outside, drinks in hand I profusely apologised and insisted I would get the next round.

Once we sat down, I got a good look and began my judgement. Date #3 was dressed somewhat in between a bogan and a used car salesman with slightly greasy hair and a receding hairline. Perhaps it was just the leather jacket and the fact that he possibly hadn’t washed his hair that day but I felt somewhat more enthused about him when the mystery offered just his ass facing the camera. He had lived overseas in the last year before returning back home to Auckland, coming down to Wellington for a job in marketing.

The chat was good and relatively free-flowing. We bonded over our love for Vietnamese food and he told he about a business idea was going to launch. To throw him off a little, I decided to add in exciting weird topics to test him. I told him about how I’ve gotten Colonics in the past and that I highly recommended them.

Me: “I highly recommend getting a Colonic, it is the best thing ever. Kim K gets them!”

I told him how I had investigated the cost of a vasectomy as a present for my Daddy’s 50th birthday five years ago after my Dad joked too many times about having another kid and that I was surprised that it wasn’t offered in the form of a gift voucher: This Gift Voucher entitles 1x individual to a vasectomy. Must be used within 1 year of the voucher date. Date #3 was seemingly unphased when I was just dropping these bizarre but truthful stories into the conversation. Richie seemed to be a fan of Date#3 and sat on his lap throughout the entire date, a seemingly good sign of things to come. We ended up having a second round after I basically sculled the first one to speed up the process and enhance my opinion of him and he said he felt a little emasculated that I had finished mine before him. (Wait, what?)

After two drinks, that he funded once again (I finished the second one before him aswell) Date #3 walked Richie and I to my car (no explosive diarrhea this time!). We hugged and lied to each other that it was good to meet one another and he kissed me on the cheek. He texted me once he got home

 Date #3: “Awesome to meet you and Richie, you’re good fun. Have a good night x”

Melissa: “You’re great fun. [Edit: Lie] Hope the Vietnamese was amazing

Date #3: “It was really good. Somehow still had an appetite after our conversation…

Melissa: “Surprising”

Bonus story about Date#3 is that we actually ended up catching up again the following Friday, since I couldn’t quite figure out whether he was a good guy or not and he offered me tickets to the FIFA final, which I bailed when I remembered that I hated football and couldn’t be bothered to go out. Instead he came over to my flat with a bottle of red and Vietnamese takeaway and we watched an average movie with Vince Vaughn. I immediately fell asleep in an awkward spoon position and Richie once again, took a unjustified liking to him. It was during this night when we discussed Tinder after I had opened up about my 30 Day challenge when he admitted to having two different approaches to girls on Tinder. There were the girls who he thought were good enough to have random sex with and would approach them with crass remarks like “Hey, want to fuck?” and “DTF?” whereas “girls like me” got the drink and date approach. He couldn’t explain in a non-douchebag way about what gave him the right to choose what type of girl gets which treatment and the night ended on a weird note reinforced by our grandma kiss after I made it pretty clear that he wasn’t staying over and he grabbed my crotch as he said good-bye.


Date #2 Brunch with a Londoner

On my Tinder profile, it says that I like “Brunch and Dogs”. I only really started to appreciate brunch in it’s full glory four years ago when my boyfriend at the time introduced me to Marsden Village Café in Karori. We went there every couple of weeks when we lived together and it had the perfect brunch menu for those who liked big breakfasts and rugby. We also loved that it was dog-friendly – I literally used to dream of going to brunch with my future dog ( big life goals, I know). Last year when I started using Tinder, I used to take Tinder potentials to MVC for a third date only if they were considered worthy of my favourite brunch establishment. Sadly, the ownership of the Café changed twice since I started going there four years ago, the creamy mushrooms became less creamy and more grilled and they changed the type of hash browns they used.  After the last time I went with … I can’t even remember who, I decided that it was time I closed that chapter of my brunch life. Fruitless dates there with lacklustre banter and grilled mushrooms proved inferior to those fond big breakfast memories once shared with the guy who went halves on a dog with me.

Date #2 and I chatted on the first night that I reinstated Tinder. He was a self-proclaimed fellow brunch lover from London and needed to find some good places to eat as he had only been back in Wellington for a few weeks.

Ah, fresh meat! Delightful. This means that it is highly likely I haven’t been near any of his friends. When I’m stalking future prey on Facebook, seeing mutual friends and recognising one from an intimate grinding moment on the dancefloor at The Establishment always somewhat dampens the mood. I responded to Date#2 with

Melissa: “If you like dogs, then you can take me out for brunch over the weekend. I’m Melissa. I’m employed and not too weird”.

Date 2#: “Then brunch over the weekend it most certainly is.

Melissa: “We can resume talking over here. Or you can ask me for my number. What do you do?”

I clearly lied about not being weird. Over text, Date #2 further questioned what my ulterior motive was with Tinder and I said that I was genuinely here to date which, was not a lie as it’s totally the truth. I knew that if I had mentioned that I was going on 30 dates in 30 days he may not have wanted to meet me. I couldn’t risk letting my game plan slip within 24 hours of starting the challenge.

On Friday at 2.34pm, Date#2 messaged to ask whether we were still doing brunch the following day. At 9.50pm, he messaged me again since I had not replied. I hadn’t saved his number at this point and had already forgotten his name!

On the Saturday morning after I finished some work early preparing campaigns, I realised I had to get a date sorted for the day and vaguely remembered Brunch boy from London. I finally messaged him back at 11.14am and asked if 12pm would suit, at Arthurs on Cuba Street. Date #2 replied exactly 10 minutes later saying that he was walking back from the gym but that he should be home in 10/15 minutes and that 12pm was good for him.

I ensured that I was running late to pay homage to all my former Tinder lovers and pushed the date time to 12.15pm since I wanted to kill time by going to Animates. After a good 45 minutes of browsing, Richie and I departed with $27.86 worth of dog treats and off we drove to Cuba Street.

I chose Arthurs as it was dog-friendly and had an English breakfast influence to it so that I could appease my date (Plus I didn’t want to spoil Pre-Fab for myself on Date #2 if it was utter shit). By the time I got there at an appropriate Melissa time, it was 12.30pm and my date was already sitting down outside waiting at a table.

First impression of Date#2 was that he probably wasn’t joking when he said he was tall as he was over 6ft 4 which made him taller than anyone I had ever been with. He had an English accent, obviously and was relatively easy to get along with. He had a good looking face, a kind smile and a full head of hair ( with what I could see!)  Not skinny and erred slightly on the Dad-Bod band wagon *wolf whistles*. He lived here four years ago to work in New Zealand and loved it hence why he came back for another year. He had just got a new flat to move into and our chat mostly revolved around that and living life in New Zealand. He said that he wanted some ‘stability’ for a little while and thought that the life here was good.

Richie was immediately a fan of Date#2 as he jumped on his lap within the first five minutes and curled up on his lap. The conversation was relatively free-flowing which naturally tipped in his favour when he admitted his Dad-bod and said that he loved dogs. I ordered the Big Breakfast, like the tiny small Blonde girl I am and 6ft 4 Date#2 ordered Eggs Benedict, which came out with Eggs, Bok Choy and Crumpets. When it came to the end of the meal and we walked towards the cashier, I got my wallet out intending to pay (because I’m Beyonce) to find that he already took care of it. Like a perfect English Gent.

Because everything was going well we ended up walking up to the Pukeahu War Memorial to check it out and walk Richie before it started raining. This is where the date started to take a turn…

We were heading up towards the inside part of the War Memorial when I saw a friend from school with her beautiful newborn and her entire extended family. Because I hadn’t seen her in a while, we stopped and had a chat where I cooed over her new baby. When it came to introductions, I introduced Date #2 as “My friend, *insert Date#1‘s real name*” without even realising. Date #2 took it really well and still shook the hands of everyone he had just met and didn’t correct me in front of them. As soon as they were out of ear shot however he said:

Date#2: “You so owe me!”

Melissa: [Assuming it was because I introduced him to people he didn’t know in the first place!] “Oh, I’m sorry!”

Date#2: “Who’s *insert Date#1‘s name*?”

After that, I came clean about my Tinder challenge and admitted that it was the name of the guy who I previously dated the night before. Date#2 took it pretty well, probably because I later found out that he assumed I was joking about the Tinder challenge at the time.

Still, surprisingly the date was going really well. As we walked back towards my car, Richie paused to do what dogs do and took a massive shit. Usually, when my dog poops it’s embarrassing in the sense that immediately afterwards I have to pick up warm poo during a hot date, but it’s part of owning a dog and I try not to resent it too much. This time however, little Richie happened to get diarrhea and I had no choice but to attempt to pick it up. It was sloppy, runny and by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to pick up. Ridiculous, strongly scented and mildly unfortunate.

The weather started to pack it in after this particularly bleak moment and Date#2 had said during brunch that he needed to buy a new bed. I offered to drive him to Thorndon due to the weather and offered him advice since I had recently bought a new bed within the last month. Neither of us were really that keen to round of the date at that point and I felt obliged to recover from my memory lapse and Richie’s explosive diarrhea. So for the next two hours I ended up accompanying my Tinder date on his bed shopping afternoon. We walked around different bed shops and lay on different beds , finalising the four that we thought were good on the price and comfort.

Three hours and forty-five minutes late into the date and on the way back to the last furniture shop where he decided he wanted to buy his bed, he leaned in for the kiss in the Barina. Naturally I obliged since a) he wasn’t horrible b) he was really nice and c) because of my overwhelming commitment to this blog! His nose was cold and a little runny but overall the kiss was sweet. Clearly not as passionate at the night before, but a kiss that suggested he had enjoyed the time we had just spent together.

After he bought his bed, I offered to drive Date#2 home as my best friend was coming around later that evening and he had a night planned full of supporting ARSENAL and going to the rugby. He invited me around to his apartment as I dropped him off, to which I declined (because I’m a classy bitch) but made the arrangement to him again the following Saturday night, where the night ended in drunken tears and my spew. Consecutively and at the time.

I’m all class.

Date #1 Spooning Session with a Bearded Shepard

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.

I’ve been procrastinating this blog for far too long. Perhaps it’s because this is like an introduction for my life and there’s an element of self-reflection that is needed to introduce the who, what, where and why and when I’m the who, what , where and why it forces me to think about why I enjoy creating awkward moments, sometimes get outrageously drunk and how I don’t count calories as much as I probably should. Regardless, I’m here now and I guess that we should start from the beginning.

I’m Melissa, 24 years old and born and bred from Wellington. As my tinder profile outlines, I like brunch and dogs. I’m employed and I’ve already been asked not to specify my workplace but I guess I can mention that the general public fund my lifestyle and therefore my Tinder dating experience (so thanks in advance!) I’ve never really known how to write about myself without repeating “I’m a crazy bitch!” a million times so I’ve called on a few people to ask how they would describe me.

Monica, my youngest flatmate is currently getting ready for her own Tinder date tonight as I type away at my laptop.

Me: “Hey Mon, how would you describe me, it’s for my Tinder blog?”

Mon: “You’re like a bubbly, doesn’t give a fuck, bad ass bitch but like, you do give a fuck… I don’t know… it’s a tough one. You’re pretty cool and you’re hilarious. *laughs*

Me: “Do you think that I’m an easy person for boys to like?”

Mon: “Yes! Heart Breaker!”

Me: ” Alright, I’m just gonna grab my phone and call my Daddy and ask him”

*calls Daddy*

Whilst I’m waiting for the phone to ring, there is a reason why I’m a 24-year-old single independent woman who still refers to my Father as “Daddy”.  To sum it up, he is my number one male, my favourite human being and I know how lucky I am to have had such a supportive and hilariously inappropriate short fat German as a parent. Also as a side note, there is a 100% chance that I get what I want when I refer to constantly nag at him and call him Daddy. It’s a fact.

I digress..

Me: “Hi Daddy, can I ask you something, I’m writing a blog about my 30 tinder dates and I need to know how you would describe me”

Daddy: “You’re writing a book?”

Me: “A blog”

Daddy: “Why?”

Me: “Because I went on 30 Tinder dates in 30 days”

Daddy: “Why would you do that? Hang on, call me on the landline…”

*calls on the landline*

Me: “Hi… Right, Describe me!”

Daddy: “You want me to be nice or horrible? Wait, can we talk about the coffee machine I bought you first?” *natters on for five minutes about my new coffee machine*

Me: “Yay, I love it! Now… back to the reason why I called. Describe me!”

Daddy: “Right. Well you are a little bundle of energy.”

Me: “And in terms of dating?”

Daddy: “A nightmare on two wheels?”

Me: “That’s so great! Can you ask Roxy (My 26-year-old sister) ?”

Daddy: “She ran away.”

Obviously, my Dad is the blunt parent and it’s always been that way. When I then called and asked my Mum for a personality reference she boosted my already inflated ego who said that I was “fun, energetic, driven and engaged” but in terms of relationships “not everyone would be a good match because you’re really smart, street smart. Almost intimidating”.

Gee, thanks Mum. I was really hoping that someone would reiterate that I’m a crazy bitch so I called upon my best and probably only guy friend who I hadn’t had sex with: BD (which clearly doesn’t stand for Big Dick)

Me: “BD, how would you describe me?”

BD: “…You act like you don’t give a shit and that you’re a boss as bitch, but you do actually care and you’re a really good friend”

Me: “What would you say to a guy who wanted to date me?”

BD: “That he should put a bullet in his head. Nah, I would say “Good luck” but not in a negative way. Like she will eat you alive. I’m surprised you haven’t farted in front of me”.

With all this information behind me, it poses the first question as to why the hell would anyone go on 30 dates in 30 days? I had joked about it with a few friends in April when I rejoined Tinder after a temporary fling ended with another guy I had met on there and they said that it would be funny if I actually did it.

The night of my birthday BYO, I had a one night stand with a Facebook friend who said that he bet that I couldn’t go through with it. Upset and annoyed (not just with his performance from the night before) I was set out to prove him wrong. Problem was, I had gone on a Tinder date with a guy who I genuinely liked on the Thursday night. We had met at Matterhorn for a drink and there was something about him where there was an instant attraction but couldn’t quite gauge the situation and figure out for what it was. It was amazing, intense and relatively quick (like his performance) and after 10 or so dates, it had ended.

So here we are. For the lolz of my friends, family and with no expectations, the hope of at least one free brunch and to rebound quickly from my two week passionate Tinder fling.