A Tinder Tale

My boyfriend and I broke up because of a difference of opinion: that opinion being whether or not we belonged together. I handled the breakup like any sane, mature lady would, that’s right, booze, banter, and boys. I didn’t have much faith in men. My one relationship had been a dud, but I did know they were great for one thing: making out. So I drank a bottle of Prosecco, gracefully chugged a few shots of vodka, downloaded Tinder, and hit the town ready to make things happen.

I woke up the next morning with an immense hangover and the discovery that I had sent an exorbitant amount of messages on Tinder. In fact, it seemed as if I had swiped right for any man with a beard or slight resemblance to Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. I sent one guy: “Iss cooll if steal your putppy?” What? He had a cute puppy in his picture. Can you blame me?

Through the assortment of regretful messages, one caught my attention. It simply listed the name of a bar and an event that I had attended. I realized that he was asking if we had met there.With a second more sober look at his photos, I discovered that he was, in fact, a man that I had met a few weeks prior on a night out. Nothing happened that night: we spoke amicably, he bought me a drink, and we shook hands goodbye (it was a rather formal event.)

Only once we began chatting did I realize that this man was quite possibly one of the funniest guys I had met in a long time.  Even my friends commented that our banter was superb. It seemed as if I had met my match.

That weekend I told him to meet us on our night out. He had me laughing all day, and my expectations were high. Once together I anticipated we’d laugh, drink, and he’d get along extremely well with my friends. And you know what happened? None of that. It was awful. Quite possibly one of the worst dates I have ever been on.

Not only did he not get along with my friends, he didn’t even get along with me. We had absolutely nothing to talk about. That’s not an exaggeration. We sat in silence on a couch in a bar. We didn’t even look at each other. It was so uncomfortable. We headed to a louder bar with a dj after that in hopes it would be easier to pretend like this was somehow enjoyable. My friends, thinking I needed time alone, left us on the dance floor. I discovered that the only thing he was worse at than talking was dancing. I was simply embarrassed- for him, for myself, for the entire institution.

Luckily, the bar closed. Thank God. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy for 2am to roll around. I thought he was being a gentleman walking me to my door. We shuffled in silence to my flat, and he went in for what I thought was a polite hug. It was NOT a polite hug. Next thing I know, we are kissing. At first I was extremely confused- how the hell did he think this had gone well?

I said goodbye and walked inside, quite bemused. What’s worse is that he texted me right after saying that he should’ve invited me over for “cuddles.” Sir, you are a grown man. Do not, under any circumstances, invite me over for “cuddles.”

Needless to say, I am still single. Still a virgin. But you know what, thank god for good and bad dates- they help us discover what we do and do not like, and now I definitely have a clearer idea of what I do not want.