Tinder and Blind

A once single Tinder obsessed bad dater London girl living in Dubai, to a step-mum who bagged a boy in Dubai, now living in London

Month: April, 2017

Taking it back to the Old Skool (sans apps)


I wrote a piece for Elite Daily a while back entitled Are Dating Apps To Blame For Women No Longer Getting Hit On At Bars? (Elite Daily’s Sub Editor Americanised my original title)
and today I came across a similar subject on TED: How technology has transformed how we connect — and reject — in the digital age. 

Having had a busy weekend which involved a questionable amount of mixed drinks and consequently a day of hell for my liver and head, I resonated with the TED article and think it’s an important one for us (I won’t use the word Millennials because I hate it) young-ish, single folk who are now reliant on technology to give us instant gratification through dating apps just to get a buzz from a ‘match’. Now, I don’t know if this is the same for everyone, but the novelty soon wears off. The ego boost is good for the newly single who never had dating apps ‘in their day’, to make you think ‘heeey, I’ve still got it’ but then what?

Those who read my last post (thank you for your feedback by the way), will know that the date I went on was with someone I matched with on dating app, Bumble (I’m not on Tinder or any other dating app, I need the storage on my phone for all the screenshots I take and receive to and from friends on an hourly basis). This guy was lovely as a whole, and I was due to go on my second date with him today, but I cancelled. I just wasn’t excited about any messages I received, I haven’t thought about him since the date, and do you know why I think that is? It was too easy. The app gave me the knowledge that we both found each other attractive at first ‘swipe’, because we matched. Ok, great, that takes out the mystery and skips a step. But, is that great? Because the courtship has been taken away doesn’t that make it a bit more boring?

Don’t get me wrong, apps work for a lot of people I know, one of my best friends is getting married off the back of one of them. But for me, I think I need to meet someone I either already know, and grow that relationship from what I already know about that person. Or meet someone in real life, to work at real life gratification, rather than this tech heavy, instant ‘on a plate’ era that we’re now living in.

This TED article quotes comedian Aziz Ansari and psychologist Eric Klinenberg from their book Modern Dating: “you’re carrying a 24-7 singles bar in your pocket.” We are, and yet, it’s not as exciting as it sounds. Imagine being in a bar with all the people you’ve matched with. Now that does sound pretty good, but then add in all the other people who have matched with the same people in that bar. The anxiety of not knowing if the guy or girl you like actually thinks the girl or guy next to you is fitter, now you have the competition. This scenario in real life would be a mix of people, and you seeking out the person you find most attractive, to then go and muster up the courage to converse with.

Most guys I know will openly admit that they are always looking to the next more attractive match, but via their smartphones. We are now completely skipping a step, which could be detrimental to our own judgement. We use our initiative and paint a picture of a person just by looking at five photos of them, rather than being physically attracted to someone stood a few feet away from us and trying our luck with conversation. Courtship is dead.

In my hungover state today, I realised I don’t want to meet someone over an app. I want to meet someone organically and not force it. If I was newly single and wanting a throwaway relationship and had time to go on loads of dates with guys I’ve handpicked on an app, then I would carry on doing what I was doing two years ago. I know my date stories are entertaining, and I know I’m probably one of the most picky girls when it comes to guys (I could match with the most gorgeous guy but I get put off when I meet them from the smallest thing they say). So from now on, I’m taking it back to the old skool, and only going to go on dates with those I have met in real life, first. I mean, I really need the phone storage.

Back in The Game


It’s been a good few months since I’ve been on a first date. I’ve not posted about the majority of Dubai dates because this place is so small I end up becoming friends on social media with them which makes it awks if I then write about them. I also don’t mind dating, I’m in Sales so to me it’s just like going on a meeting with a client, so I don’t get nervous, I just talk for Britain.

I came off Tinder because quite frankly, it’s shit. No offence to those who love it- I did once, hence my blog’s namesake. But out here in the Middle East, the weirdos outweigh the less weird by a fair amount.

I did however download ‘Bumble’ which apparently contains a higher calibre of people (arguably), for you to swipe through; similar to Tinder. The difference is, the woman makes the first move if she wants to chat to the male, and has only 24 hours to do so. Which I actually quite like, mainly because of the amount of cringe one liners I’ve received in the past.

My opening line isn’t as witty as you’d probably expect from someone of my wit-factor (if I do say so myself), unless I’m in one of those moods. Like, someone was called Kevin so I messaged him saying ‘I hope your mum never left you at home, alone’, he didn’t get my Home Alone reference (Keevvviiinnn) so I simply followed with ‘alright Kev’, he understood that one but the conversation went nowhere, I hope Kev went on to find someone nice, hopefully in New York around Christmas time.. I digress.

So my line these days is a simple ‘hey.. *name*’. Some of the responses I’ve had: ‘Here she is..alright beaut!’ which genuinely made me think I may have already dated this person, but I hadn’t. That over familiar tone didn’t work for me so I left him on my Bumble feed to buzz away. (such shit puns, I’m sorry).

‘I can’t believe you matched with me, aren’t you married to Ashton Kutcher?’ That one went down well to be fair, until he asked me over to his so he could cook for me. And another ‘Your place or mine?’ back in your hive, Bee.

I was being overly picky with guys, shallow (which these apps all are, but hell, we’re animals), swiping right to anyone who remotely resembled Superman (my dream man) and subsequently being disappointed by one liners. I responded to one of the more ‘normal’ ones: ‘Hey, how are you?!’. The use of double punctuation made me think he was confused as to why I had messaged him saying ‘hey’. So I responded, and after an exchange of two or three answers, he asked me out and I said yes. I didn’t ask him any questions and I didn’t answer many of his. I chose this way because every ‘app date’ that I’ve been on in the past that has consisted of a lot of chat leading up to the date,which  has meant I build up a persona of this individual in my head, only to find out they’re completely different in person, and the chat has dried up quickly because I already know how long he’s lived in Dubai for, and what his favourite brunch is.

So this time I decided to wait until the date- after stalking him on social media first, obvs. I discovered we had two mutual friends. Both of whom lived in my house in Brixton before I moved there- we were introduced by a guy I once was seeing, who turned out to be cheating on his then girlfriend- with me (I had no idea, more on this here: https://tinderandblind.com/2015/08/05/being-the-other-woman/ ) So I wondered how I could drop our mutual friends into conversation without it being evident that I’d stalked the hell out of him before our date. I found a way.. keep reading, I’ll get there.

I was almost put off by two words he’d put in his message earlier in the day to confirm our meeting place. ‘Hun’ and hey ‘Lovely’. Just no. Both of those words used as a noun coming out of a straight guy’s mouth/ a potential suitor, are a total killer for me. Girls, by all means, you are ‘my lovely’. Boys, NO. You don’t need to call me hun, or darling, or lovely, or beautiful, or babe, just my name is fine. Until we get to the stage of making up vom-inducing nicknames and posting Boomerangs entitled ‘beach day with bae’, just stick to my name.

Anyway, after telling myself I shouldn’t judge someone for their niceties or be so damn picky all the time, I decided to just go with an open mind. Even though he proceeded to call me ‘honey’ when I told him I was in the uber en route. (So many Bee references here I can’t deal).

So, the date commences after a quick change post-gym and sans food. You know when you’re still sweating after your shower because of the time pressure to get ready, so wearing any kind of makeup is a pointless exercise, and you don’t have enough time to wash your hair, so you spray half a can of dry shampoo in the hope it dries up your sweat head? Yeah, that was the sort of state I was trying to cover up here. (Remind me, how am I single?!)

I arrive and he tells me I look gorgeous ‘honey’, I swallow my regurgitation. He asks pretty soon why I’m single, he says he was gobsmacked that I messaged him and asked if there was something wrong with me for being single. What do you even say to that?!  Instead of telling him that I’m so happy and content being single that I don’t want to give someone the chance to potentially destroy it by worming their way into my life and taking a piece of my freedom.. I  diluted it a bit. I told him it’s been my choice to be so, that I’m yet to find someone who is happy with how independent I am, but that I’m willing to change a bit for the right guy, if he can allow us to complement each other and not live in eachother’s pockets. BLAH. Especially as now my dad has got it into his head that he wants to be a grandpa within the next five years, I should probably start accepting dates again- I left that part out. FML, dad.

THEN when I got to the part about my ex and then the other guy after that, who had the girlfriend (as referenced to earlier) I dropped his name in while telling the story.

The conversation went like this (names not mentioned for obvious reasons):

Me: ‘I was seeing another guy after the ex fiasco, I’d actually ended things with him but he found me my place in Brixton so he came to our housewarming, there were a couple of photos on Facebook and I got a message the next day from a girl asking: ‘How do you know *fuckboy*? I’m his girlfriend’

Him: *Almost spits beer out* ‘*fuckboy*?? No, it can’t be the same guy?? Dark hair, works for *brand*?’

Me: *putting two and two together,  knowing it has to be the same *fuckboy* because we have mutual friends*  that’s the one. Small world or what, that means you know *names two mutual friends* ? It’s their house I lived in !’

Him: ‘oh my god I went on a stag with *fuckboy* and we stayed in the same room together in Amsterdam. I had no idea he did that!! I went to uni with *other two friends*’

Me: ‘LOL’

Whyyyyy oh whyyyyy am I cursed by my exes? Like some fuckboy enchantress curse that won’t get lifted until I find someone who isn’t a fuckboy and the rose will then regain its petals. I live on the other side of the world and they still end up haunting me.

Anyway, we had a lot more conversation, he noticed I was donning a Mulberry Bayswater and Jimmy Choos which made me question his sexuality before he assured me it’s because his ex was a designer hoe, and thought it important to tell me he knows all about surgery, which I thought meant he was a Doctor in a past life, turns out he meant the cosmetic type of surgery. Good. I then assured him I wasn’t a designer hoe, nor have I been under the knife, nor am I high maintenance despite my designer attire, I’m just really good at Sale shopping and spending (my own) money at tactical times of the year.

He told me he was looking to settle down, making hypothetical observations about the future and what he wants from a relationship. I don’t know what my face was saying but it reacts without me realising, which my friends are just used to now. I think I must have looked a bit terrified because he then changed the subject after noticing my face froze for a good minute (and I don’t even get botox).

We had 2 drinks and I had a starter while he had a main (let’s pretend I didn’t get home and demolish a pack of Maltesers in bed). He was a gent, he paid (of course I offered), insistently so, which for a girl- is a really nice thing. It makes me want to pay next time because I know he’s not tight.

He sent me some lovely post date texts with FOUR x’s after each sentence. I don’t do x’s. If you get an ‘x’ from me it’s because you’re a girl-friend, or I’m being genuine about something, like an ‘I’m here for you’ type message. Apart from that, I’m not a kissy person. Anyway I’ll let him off for the over affectionate use of letters in the alphabet and I’ll reply to his ‘I’d love to see you again, let’s make it happen xxxx’ text.

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First date outfit- Jumpsuit: Missguided. Shoes: Jimmy Choo. Belt: Topshop. Bed:Ikea


The Grand Finale

One of my new year’s resolutions for 2017 was to learn to say no to things without feeling guilty for doing so. This has meant I’ve successfully declined many ladies nights, brunches, nights out and even birthdays since 1st January. I used to feel so guilty for turning down events, so I’d end up attending everything I was invited to and thus burn myself out to the point of collapse (many times). After ending up in hospital at the end of last year with doctors orders to rest once I’d told her my typical weekly routine, I decided to listen.

This year after vowing to learn to say no, and sticking to it, has meant my quality of life is so much better already. I’ve lost over a stone from the lack of drinking or eating crap (as a result of all the drinking), I’ve been sleeping for at least 8 hours a night and working out six times a week without feeling lethargic.

The main reason for the health kick was after I agreed to take up an 8 week challenge with my gym- F45, and if you’ve been following my weekly posts then you’ll know all about it. (Sorry to those who are missing my unlucky date escapades, I’m not).

Before this challenge I was doing the same amount of exercise thinking if I worked-out then it would balance out all the partying and odd (frequent) glasses (bottles) of wine with dinner, along with the brunches that I was smashing through each weekend intent on maximising buffet ROI. It was my first year into Dubai life, a continuation of the busy London life I lead, and I was just about managing it. Letting myself be the ‘fun one’ and loving life as per, and it’s fair to say if I didn’t exercise then I’d have probably been much bigger than I was. But I’d had enough.

This challenge has ensured I’ve maintained a positive mind-set. Every week I would see muscle definition, my clothes getting bigger, and it sounds so cliché but my head felt clearer. I was more productive at work, giving presentations and pitches to clients with more confidence and clarity than ever. As a result I’d billed the most business in the shortest period of time.

The final two weeks of the challenge I’d say were the hardest, not just because every time I saw my friends they’d be eating pizza or Five Guys while I had a tupperwear box of air, but mainly because the carb portions have been next to nothing in order to burn fat instead of glucose (carbs) as energy like a normal person. But it’s the point I’ve seen the biggest difference aesthetically.

I still have a little way to go before I’m entirely happy with my body, and I won’t lie, I’m really nervous about going it alone with no challenge to complete- but I am now determined not to go back to my old lifestyle.

As glamourous as it sounds, going out to all these luxurious 5* Dubai hotels for happy hours, dinners and brunches all the time, quite frankly, makes you fat. Caveat: Now I’m not about to turn into a preaching new clean eating health guru- because everyone knows I’m a party girl at heart and I believe a drink is called for to reach full fun potential in a bar/club scene – judge all you want, but we all know how shit it feels to be the only sober person at a party while your mates are having the time of their lives singing along to the Pina Colada song. I’m not the sober girl. I’m the one who instigates a messy night out, the one who suggests shots, the last one standing while everyone else went home to get pizza and into their pj’s two hours prior. And I’m still that person at heart.. hell I spent last weekend on a diet of champagne and chocolate to celebrate my body fat death, but now I’m that person much less frequently than twice a week.

The last two months has reinstated to me that my lifestyle wasn’t about balance before, when I thought it was. I was doing 50/50, that changes now to 80/20. 80% of the time being the health freak who trains 6 times a week while snacking on six cashews and almond milk protein shakes, and 20% of the time being the old, prosecco fuelled, fatter me.

My results saw me lose 7.5kg, 10cm off my waist, 6% body fat loss and two boob sizes which isn’t ideal but you can’t have everything. I went off plan completely for two days while I had visitors out, and completed 47 out of 48 possible workouts with one active recovery day per week doing aerial yoga. I drank on three occasions (awards dinner, hen party, one brunch) while sticking to the meal plan the rest of the time.


The most important thing I learnt from doing this challenge was to prep. Every. Single. Meal. That includes snacks, literally everything you put into your mouth, portion out and when you think one portion looks adequate, it means it’s too much. Halve it.

I have had a lot of people message me asking for advice, but frankly I’m not an expert, I’m just someone who got sick of making excuses for herself and did something about it. If you don’t want it bad enough, you won’t succeed, no matter what advice you’re given. I have always been the sort of person to work hard if I want something badly enough, be it that pair of shoes, or that apartment, or that job, it might take me a year to realise how much I want it, but once it’s in my head I bloody well work for it. There’s no such thing as luck in my eyes. The same applies when changing your habits, you’ve got to be dedicated, and yes it’ll take over your life for a bit, but what’s a few weeks of abstaining when you come out the other side with abs?


Me celebrating at the weekend, post challenge