For those who may be unfamiliar with how Tinder works, you scroll through endless photos of people, click on someone you like the look of, read what ever meagre and badly spelled biog they may have bothered to write, then swipe right if you like them or left to consign them to the reject pile. If someone has done the same to you and you 'like' each other, you can them send them a message and away you go. Some people use it as a hook-up site for casual dating, others are genuinely looking for someone special. Unlike other dating sites or apps, there are no endless questions to answer, and no algorithm trying to match you with your perfect mate. Tinder recognises that as human animals visual attraction is most important (and large motorbikes!), and leaves the rest to its subscribers. Oh, and you can't send pictures via the Tinder messaging app, so how these rumours of Unsolicited Dick Pics get spread around I don't know. I've never had one. I'm starting to feel cheated...
So, there I was, utterly heart-broken and cycling endlessly through the Five Stages of Grief (I'm still hovering between Bargaining and Acceptance), scrolling past troll after troll until up pops young Steve from Stoke. Very cute, big bike (there's a pattern forming here...), worth a swipe right. We matched! Turned out he is a Spiritualist with a BMW GS1200 and the cutest 14 week old chihuahua puppy in the universe called Scooby. A good soul. A very good soul, in fact. We moved off Tinder into texting (coz at the time I didn't have a WhatsApp account which seems to be the favoured messaging app outside of Facebook, and is now owned by Facebook!) and he sent me pictures of Scooby, and his old dog and soulmate Bruce the Rottweiler, whose spirit he believes has been reborn in Scooby (if you've ever met a chihuahua this is not as outlandish as it may seem!), and his tattoos, and then Angel card readings. And then motivational posters. Oh dear. He's a follower of Doreen Virtue, and a Christian, and wants to meet me.
Me: So you don't mind that I'm a demon-consorting witch? I don't need saving!
Him: I don't mind at all we will get on.
Okay then. This could get interesting.
Working with the adage passed on to me by my beloved sister-in-law that the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else I continue the conversation with Spiritualist Steve (I've started giving them nicknames by this point, as they're starting to stack up...) because I think he might be good in the sack, but almost I pity the first guy I really do hook up with as I'm starting to rebound horribly.
Along with SpiritLevel Steve there was also Vintage Dave from Shrewsbury, who works for an antique dealer, and who had a picture of himself astride a shiny red Ducati, but it was all a lie! It was his mate's bike! We talked bikes, and guitars, and car-booting, then had a row over Brexit. I think he might be a Leaver, which is pretty much a deal-breaker here, but he avoided it becoming an issue by playing the Sick Mother, Can't Commit card before we even got to the coffee stage. He seemed nice, and I wished him well. You can't take things personally here, because it usually isn't.
The next guy to make a decent impression was Mat-with-one-t from Crewe. Very interesting biog, looked a bit nerdy and gothy, 44 years old, amateur musician, looking for someone left-wing and quirky. Now this could get somewhere. Conversation moved off Tinder very quickly so we could swap pictures of our cats!
Mat and I get on very well via messaging. We have a lot in common. Music, books, popular culture. We decide that even if we don't click together we could still be good friends. We arrange to meet. He doesn't have a car, so we plan for Wednesday in Chester for lunch, as I have to be there anyway, and he's a games journalist who keeps his own hours. I recognise him straight way from his photo and his description of himself: very tall, standing a bit forlornly outside Cafe Nero on Foregate Street. I know his type. I've been here before. Frankly, it was hard work. He was obviously very nervous, and kept avoiding eye contact. Referring the reader to my comment above about rebounding, I realise that this is not what I need right now. I need someone dynamic. Someone who will sweep me off my feet; who is just so vital that I almost have to run to keep up. Mat, despite the obvious intelligence and intellectual compatibility, is not this. He could have had potential, but the timing is just not right.
I go home, and get back online.
No comments:
Post a Comment