One Thursday night during a Skype date, my girlfriend Char told me about Tinder and how she had been on about four dates as a result of joining. I was instantly skeptical. I’m the type of person who likes to meet my partners organically; not because an algorithm said we should mate and procreate. Being naturally curious though, I couldn’t help but try it out.
Tinder is an application for your smartphone. It pulls information from your Facebook profile, allows you to select a number of photos to display and identifies your “likes” to connect common interests with prospects. Operating the app is simple; a candidate is determined based on location radius and parameters outlined in your settings. You either LIKE them or you don’t. If someone you “liked” likes you back, the next step is to chat. It’s that simple. That should have been my first clue that I was heading down a rabbit hole where hook-ups were expected, some come prepared to psychoanalyse via text, while others have the attention span of a dogs who likes to chase squirrels.
The first few texts with matches were quaint. Commonalities such as, “hi, how is your day going?” and “hello” were the norm. Then I met Rich. From his photos he appeared tall, blond, averagely handsome. Rich is a mortgage broker from Calgary. Short of long walks on the beach, poking dead things with sticks, he owns his own house, enjoys wine by the fire and is interested in leadership and personal development. On paper, Rich sounds like a catch for any woman looking for stability and affection. Rich would message daily, adding smiling emoticons after every “morning”. At first it was cute. Then I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
I believe we are entitled to this at least once in our lives.
I wasn’t rude. I simply replied with “hey”. This is where the tables turned and my a-type personality and dry, sarcastic sense of humour were no longer understood. Unlike some women, I’m not into frills, flowers and doting. Unfortunately for Rich, he didn’t pick up on this. Suddenly I was delivering a pronounced mood shift, was hyper-critical of myself, apparently common for most women, but would still be considered a beautiful friend to him always.
Next was Brian. My friends will know Brian as “My Date”. Again, a professional, owned his own house, had a cat and a few interests in common. At first he seemed normal. We texted for nearly two weeks before finally securing a date to meet. Sunday night arrived, I drove to his house to enjoy a beer and some food. The moment he opened the door to let me in, I knew.
This is gonna be bad.
His open concept house was as open and cluttered as his mind. Conversations became “choose your own adventure novels”. We would be chatting about his trip to Asia, get half way through a sentence when suddenly, I’ve turned the page, took a sharp turn to the left and found myself discussing the benefits of ordering Kitchen Aid mixers on Amazon. Seriously.
Nonetheless, in efforts to keep things interesting in my life, as well as research for my article, I decided to let things move forward. How bad could they be? He said he’d been in a couple long term relationships, had what women called, “magic fingers”.
Let me preface this for a moment. I’ve been living in Calgary for 10 months now. It’s a very different city than Vancouver and that includes men, women and their dating habits. Those who know me understand my appreciation of the opposite sex and why I write about men, women, sex and relationships. Since setting up residence in “CowTown”, things have been quiet between the sheets and I’m in the market for a new FWB or friend with benefits.
With that in mind, I let things continue to move forward. His kisses weren’t bad, but I’d definitely had better. His one-handed unclasping maneuver was good. That was where things went south, both figuratively and literally. It became evident why this man was on a dating app and why I should have known better. At the point of reaching third base, I stopped myself before asking, “Are you trying to get me off? Or are you performing a pelvic exam?”. It didn’t get better from there. I was told that my oral skills were great, but “I get bored if I’m not doing something, and I’ll go soft”. I thought, okay, do something and get me off with your mouth. However, not only did this guy have ADD, so did his tongue.
In the end, when Brian asked if he would get a repeat appearance, my honest A-type self rose to the challenge and said, “I’m sorry, but no”.
I deleted Tinder the next day.