Tinder and Blind

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.

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