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

Category: Uncategorized

April 24, 2014

The Camp Bristolian

Date of date: 25th February
Name: Tom
Source: Tinder

After chatting on Tinder for about a week, this guy seems like a total dreamboat. He’s good looking, quick with the banter and has an interesting job. He’s not lived in London for too long so asks me out for a drink and suggests I choose the venue. I tell him to meet me at a place called Green Carnation in Soho.

‘Erm, you do realise Green Carnation is a gay and lesbian bar?’ says one of my colleagues after I tell him what I’m doing that night. Well no, I didn’t. I mean I know that Soho is predominantly a gay area yes, but I thought this particular bar was open for all. Apparently not. But I’ve been before and was oblivious, so now I’m totally conscious that this guy has googled the place and either thinks a)I’m having him on and am going to stitch him up while he’s surrounded by a load of hungry men (which in hindsight, he would probably have enjoyed. More of why later), or b) he thinks I’m bi.

So I text him changing the venue, recommended by my colleague who clearly knows Soho better than me.
Meanwhile I get a huge amount of work in from a client, with a short turnaround. I do a quick calculation (I’m shit at maths) and figure I will be about 20 minutes late in meeting him- so I let him know.

I turn up an hour and a half late. Feeling very bad and apologising via text every half an hour until I meet him, he tells me he’s at Be At One in Piccadilly, he clearly didn’t trust my second venue after the first blunder- or he’s been there and drank his hours worth before a change of scenery.

By the time I arrive he’s already made friends with the bar staff and they clap when I sit down. I feel myself blush and apologise prefusely, offering to buy the (my) first drinks, but I see he already has two drinks in front of him so I assume one is for me, I thank him and take it. Turns out it’s happy hour and he had stocked up for himself- what am I like!..

I’m not a snob, but Be At One wouldn’t be my first choice when it comes to cocktails- it’s more of a student wetherspoons pre drink type place isn’t it, so I suggest Archer Street, a much nicer bar where the waitresses break out into song every now and then, plus the cocktails are amaze. So we go there after I down a watered down mojito.

Archer Street means I can also hear his voice and make conversation.. this is when it registers. He’s camp, very, very camp, camper than a row of tents. He sounds a cross between Joe Pasquale and Josie Gibson from Big Brother- you know, the big Bristolian lass who went out with Jon James and lost loads of weight, now looks amazing.
He’s from the Westcountry, as am I, but every time he talks I just take it as comedy value. I have an ex colleague called Joe (now a very successful actor in Broadchurch, little plug there for you Joe, as if you need it) and those who know Joe, knows he is the most Bristolian person in the world, now this date I would say, was more so. I literally wanted to bottle him up and open him whenever I wanted to laugh. Unfortunately, we were on a date and his intentions were far from being bottled up. I was asking him questions just so I could hear him talk.
I found out he was one son out of five sisters, so I asked the question. Yes I’d had a few Tom Collins’ by this point so I figured it was a perfectly normal question: ‘did your parents ever think that you’d have such a female influence that you’d be gay?’ his answer ‘my parents love a gay so they wouldn’t mind’… this makes me think he probably is gay and is on a date with me to test the waters, see if he can be swayed into liking girls. Well after being held waiting at a Be At One for 1.5 hours and being asked loads of questions so I could memorise his accent, probably would turn anyone gay.

So we leave. He tells me I’m his first Tinder date, and now imagine the most Bristolian, camp accent ever.. he says to me:
‘Well I think that went quite well, don’t you love?’
I lol. I say ‘yes, I had the best time’ which isn’t a lie. I had a lot of fun, but I wish he was my gay best straight mate. He then says:
‘Defo do this again maid, text me some dates you’re free’.

With that, we get on our separate tubes at Piccadilly and the odd text was exchanged a week or so after. There was no romance there but I would happily help him find his Mr Right.. if he does indeed swing that way.

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April 1, 2014

The Bearded Vegan Model Pilot

Location: Muswell Hill, Carluccios

Source: Twitter/blind

(Names changed for anonymity)

Date: 26th March 2014

So the context in which I met this one is a long one so bear with me while I condense. Last year I started seeing this guy casually, it started turning into something more but I kept my guard up. At the beginning of this year I received a facebook message from his GIRLFRIEND- Laura. I had no idea, I told her everything because she deserved to know, she ditched him as did I and we have since become great friends. Weird from the outside but it works! Anyway I set her up with a colleague of mine, in return she said she thought I would get on well with one of her friends..the bearded vegan model pilot.

I researched (*cough* stalked) him a bit, found out he was quite a successful model and now training to be a pilot. I found him on Twitter and gave him a cheeky follow. A couple of weeks later I noticed he followed me back, and also on Instagram. Social media is the new face to face approach isn’t it. There are a few photos of myself and Laura, so he must’ve put two and two together.

Anyway, I’ve got nothing to lose, let’s message him, I thought. So I did- why not. Extremely creatively of me I put ‘Hello Aaron’, expecting nothing back I just went about my day.

The next morning I get a reply asking ‘how’s life?’. He catches me on a morning when life is consisting of early morning gym sessions and crash dieting in order to fit into a bridesmaid dress in 4 days. We message via twitter for a little while and eventually I give him my number.

A tube and bus journey later and we meet the next evening. I find out he’s a vegan (he can’t even eat Haribo). I’m open about my passion for steak and chocolate and he doesn’t judge- this is already going better than the Oxford Graduate.

Speaking of Oxford, Aaron has been training for the last year or so there to be a pilot. In fact, the last three dates I’ve had all have a link with Oxford, so I’m hoping they don’t all bump into eachother one day and get into a conversation about a clumsy Beckham obsessed brunette.

Anyway, the vegan thing is new. Since he’s been single he decided to be a bit wacky, grow a beard and just eat rabbit food. Totes fine with me, but knowing I’ll never get taken to Gaucho is a bit heart wrenching. I ask when he’s going to chop the beard off, when he gets his lapelles he’s going to jump in a pool and then have a shave. He’s got lovely eyes and usually I’m not a beard lover- I have a friend who loves beards and I thought the whole way through that she would bloody love him- anyway, the beard doesn’t actually put me off him which is a surprise to me.

We order wine after about 20 minutes of toing and froing- I was going to be good but that soon went out of the window and we ordered a bottle of white between us.

There was a lot to talk about, seeing as our mutual friend circumstances were out of the ordinary, so we talked about that a bit. He tells me he’s been growing a beard since November and has become quite attached to it- he puts argan oil in it to keep it soft (if that’s not an invitation for a feel then I don’t know what is).

It gets to the end of the date and I’m feeling a bit squiffy, conscious I have an early start, we leave and head to the bus stop. My bus is in the distance and it’s one of those ‘do I run for it because I don’t know how long the next one is going to be? or do I walk extra slow as to miss it and have more time for a goodbye?’ moments. I decide I will miss it anyway and no one wants to see me run after a couple of glasses of wine. Then it sits there a bit longer, so I decide to run for it. He runs with me and I jump on the bus just in time, in a mild sweat. We don’t have time for a proper goodbye so it’s one of those quick hugs and oh god, do I kiss you on the cheek or will that be awkward? So I do a quick hug and make it awkward by being indecisive on the kiss, and then he says ‘oh god, this is awkward’, before the bus doors close.

bus

Since then we have exchanged the odd message, but he’s now based back home in the Midlands, so until he’s back in London/finishes his pilots training, I think it will be a matter of just keeping in touch as and when. The circumstances at present are a bit too complicated for anything more, which is just as well because I can carry on writing about subsequent dates.. (going on one tonight)..

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March 25, 2014

The Jug and Candle date

tinder1 tinder2

 

 

Date of Date: Thursday 20th February 2014

Source: Tinder

Place: Brixton Village

I went to the gym after work then joined work colleagues for a couple of drinks (I stuck to water) near the office. I realised I had to be quick-ish in order to make my date and not be too late. It got to 9pm, the time my date and I were supposed to meet..I got my phone out ‘sorry, running late, will be there at 9.30’ I tapped in. Blew my air kisses and off I went, sexy Reebok gym bag in tow.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a tube ad panel reflection and realised I had sweat hair- you know, the hair that’s freshly washed from that morning but you’ve just done a cardio session at the gym so your scalp is almost sodden- but not gross enough to warrant a hair wash. So it was at this point I realised I needed to go home to at least run the GHD’s over, stick some heels on and dump my gym bag.

‘Sorry, another 15 mins’ I bashed in on my brisk walk back to my house. I quickly sort my hair out, slick on some lippy, wack on some heels and run out of the door.

By this point I’m late, really late. You try walking in the dark in new heels, pointy heels- it adds an extra 20 minutes onto any journey.

I approach the entrance to Brixton Village and see a guy stood there on his phone. Ah, that must be him, does he look like his photos? Oh shittttt, what’s his name again? mind is totally blank. I cannot remember his name so I panic.

‘Are you waiting for..a Tanisha?’ I say, presenting myself as though I’m some sort of showpiece that he’s just won at an auction. ‘Erm, no, I’m waiitng for a mate, sorry’ a confused looking stranger says to me. Oh god. Awks.

Meanwhile the actual date siddles up to me carrying a leather man bag and says ‘I am. Are you looking for a Mike?’ he copied what I did. I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe. I’m cringing. As I take a proper look at him I realise he’s not at my eye level. Bloody great, someone shorter than me. I’m not going to look good on his arm walking down a red carpet am I? was the first thought that entered my mind, but I’m open minded, let’s see how this goes.

To lighten the mood and my red face after that awful embarrassement, I make reference to that Specsavers advert with the train platform- you know the one, when she kisses the wrong guy. He laughs and we find a cute little bar/restaurant to sit at.

We sit at a cute little candlelit table and order the same cocktail, the conversation starts flowing. The waitress brings us a jug of water as well- yes this is significant to my story.

Turns out he works in Oxford but is staying with a friend in Brixton, hence the man bag, also hence why we matched on Tinder the weekend before. He’s only been waiting half an hour for me- I apologise and offer to buy the drink to make up for his wait in the freezing cold. He asks how tall I am ‘you seem very tall’ he says. If you call 5’5 tall, ok ok I’m probably 5’8/9 in heels, but still guys, that is not giant.

He seems lovely, but keeps bringing up how he loves lazy Sunday’s and all that’s missing is a girlfriend to laze with (bleurgh). By this point I’m two Tom Collins’ down and need some water. As I reach for it I knock the entire jug over and it spills ALL over his man bag and part of his right leg, before smashing into pieces on the wooden floor. Oops.

I literally have no idea what to do by this point because I’ve taken off my shoes under the table and I’m scared if I move that -a) he will wonder why the hell I’ve decided to make myself at home and go barefoot in a random restaurant during a date, and b) I will cut my feet open, and I really do need my feet, it would be such a waste of shoes without them.

So I keep saying ‘sorry’ over and over, while he gets the waitress and a cloth. Meanwhile I’m vigerously fighting to put my feet back into my shoes, but they’ve expanded in the heat of the restaurant/swollen from the walk, so I feel like one of the Ugly Sisters forcing on the glass slipper. They won’t budge, I’m bloody stuck with half a foot sticking out of each shoe while I stand up and try to help pick up shards of jug glass.

After that kurfuffle we sit back down and talk more date chat. I laugh at something, only I don’t just laugh like a normal person, oh no, I laughed through my nose and blew the candle out with my NOSE air. So we’re now pretty much sat in darkness, him with a wet leg, me with swollen feet and neither of us can see eachother due to my nose laugh.

It gets to about 11pm and the waitress starts clearing up, we’re the last ones left now so I start easing my feet back into my shoes a good 5 minutes before I suggest leaving.

We stand up, oh yep, he’s shorter, forgot about that. He walks me part way home and we say our goodbyes.

Lovely guy, I’m convinced I won’t hear from him again after the water and candle incidents, but I do. He added me on facebook, and text me, but I had to be honest with him. I could happily be friends with him, but as for romance, just not the one.

Maybe that Oxford graduate will be more my type..

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March 20, 2014

The Oxford Graduate

Latest date: 19th March

Source: Tinder

Place: Southbank- Founders Arms (my choice, naturally)

Firstly I had made the mistake of eating a tube of mints to curb my chocolate craving throughout the day. Then was told by a colleague ‘you do realise they have laxative effects?’ well yes, I did know that, but did I think that when I was eating them? No.

My mint binge resulted in me heading straight for the loo’s upon arrival at the date venue on the Southbank. I received a text while holding onto my stomach saying ‘I’m here, have a table outside by the entrance’. Great, it’s good to be ‘fashionably’ late I thought, let’s just hope I can get off the loo by the time it becomes ‘taking the piss’ late. I make a tactical exit out the back door before walking around the pub to make it look like I’ve just come in from the outside.

I spot him, tall, nice looking, different from his Tinder photo but then again I picked my best *airbrushed instagrammed the shit out of* photos so I can’t really talk. Anyway we greet eachother, I order a gin & soda then we start talking..about work. About 20 minutes in and we’re still talking shop. It’s fine, I’ll change the subject. We get onto the predictable ‘have you been travelling?’ convo.

I asked if he had ever been to Vegas and he said: “no it’s somewhere I would never want to go. I’ve never been to a strip club, I don’t really drink, Vegas is very fake and I like more natural places like Cape Town and I would rather trek round the Himalayas than look at tacky hotels and gaudy shows.” This was after I said I’ve been 3 times and love it but really want to go on a girls holiday there..

THEN he slagged off Victoria Beckham. Those who know me will be surprised that I didn’t chuck my drink over him. I kind of held my tongue..kind of. This came about after he asked about previous jobs etc, I’m a trained fashion journalist & had a column reviewing VB’s collection in 2009 and I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills, he said he didn’t even know she ‘did’ clothes. Well that was just blasphemy in my book.

He goes to the loo and I text my dad saying “he’s SO posh” my dad replies: “that’ll be a communication issue. Easy on the drinks though, a lady shouldn’t get drunk, espcecially on a first date.” Dad, I’ll be lucky if I get offered another- I think to myself.

So we finish our drinks and he doesn’t offer another (knew it), he tells me he needs to be in Manchester for a meeting at 8am and ‘can’t wait for my bed’ he also tells me he needs to make dinner which will be chicken & kale, the former is thawing in his fridge (erm, so you’re not feeding me then?).

So after my ONE drink I just said shall we go, we walked to the tube, talked about bed linen and his ex (whom he’s still amicable with and ‘good friends)..then.. I ask how long it will take him to get home, he says he recently bought a kindle so time goes quickly, I bought one last week so we had that in common at least, apart from the fact I only bought mine after only being able to afford a kindle case in the Mulberry sample sale, so I had to buy the kindle after.. he turned his nose up at that.. I said I really am enjoying reading again though and it makes the time go so much quicker on the tube, especially as I’m so engrossed in this amazing book at the moment and I just look forward to reading it every morning.

He asks what book I’m reading. Well I couldn’t tell him the truth which is ‘Shopaholic and baby’ (I don’t care, I love Rebecca Bloomwood) but I can’t really say that to this posh guy who hates Vegas. I say ‘oh it’s by Dan Brown’ (first bloody author that pops into my head) he says ‘oh great, which one? I’ve read all his books’ oh god, oh god I’m screwed. The only Dan Brown book I know is The Da Vinci Code, I can’t fall back on that after I’ve just said I’m reading this amazing book, surely I would’ve just said I’m reading the Da Vinci Code straight away? So I just dug my hole even deeper and said ‘I can’t remember the name of it’ to which he replied ‘you don’t know the name of the book you’re reading?’ ahhhhhh I can’t just say ‘actually I’m not reading Dan Brown, I’m reading the bloody Shopaholics series and I thought tonight I would be meeting my Luke Brandon who would’ve taken me to the OXO tower and we would’ve sipped Bellini’s all night while you tell me about your amazing life and we laugh about things we have a lot in common with’. So I just said ‘oh my kindle came with a free Dan Brown book and I’ve gone blank at what it’s called.

He took the Jubilee line, I took the Northern line and that was my 63 minute date. Don’t think we’ll be in touch again, worlds apart! He’s obviously very intelligent- an Oxford graduate, but his social skills clash with mine/ are non-existent.

Next..

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