Right Swipe Stories - ebook

1

I could have watched Game of Thrones earlier

I have periodical fits of Tinder binges. For example, after a break up, when I need an extra dose of self-confidence, the Tinder app is really good for a little ego boost. I don’t want to sound full of myself, but out of ten guys I’m going to get 9½ matches. I’m a slim, attractive girl, so this kind of dating platform is made for my pretty face. After these Tinder binges I feel like, Yeah, I’m hot, so it’s not my fault that my previous relationships turned out the way they did. Of course, I know it’s just self-deception; but the two things have precious little to do with each other.

My other Tinder binge comes whenever I feel an incredible urge to date. It usually happens when I’ve been single for a while. I think, Why not? Let’s give the universe another to push The One in my arms.

You can get bored with Tinder pretty quickly. How long do I have to wait until I decide to delete the app depends on how intensely I’ve immersed myself in the dating game. It’s easy to feel burnt out after a few dates with a few jerks. The same goes for the lame messages from too ordinary, uninteresting guys.

I recently took a Tinder-recess and I couldn’t wait to throw myself back into swiping the pictures of strangers and sifting through the mountains of date requests. Okay, okay, mountains might be an exaggeration, because usually after three dates I’m burned out and who knows how long of a Tinder break I’ll take. In any case, that’s where my story begins.

It’s horrible how many creeps are on Tinder, of course some of them are also incredibly handsome. Okay, maybe I’m just being prejudiced, but honestly some people upload such glamorous pictures of themselves, I can’t even believe it. I don’t even bat an eyelash when they pose with a fish, a car, a motorbike, a Rolex or who the hell knows what. It’s really high time they realized that they won’t get a normal girl with all that. They also shouldn’t expect anyone to swipe right if they upload those wonderful shirtless pictures of themselves flexing their muscles in the mirror, group photos or pictures of themselves that don’t even show their face! I don’t even look at photos like that. Because what’s the point? I don’t want to date a superficial “king of the world” or a faceless Voldemort. If he doesn’t have a starting picture where I can see his face and his eyes, he doesn’t stand a chance. I know it’s a tough world, but a profile photo expresses much more than these guys could ever imagine. Not to mention the fact that I come across tons of guys who have photos posing with a girl or even several girls... That’s how Prince Charming should be? Well, not for me, that’s for sure.

I don’t have either the mood, or... whatever. Why should I even strain myself to find a reason? Let that be enough that I don’t feel like guessing if this other chick is his sister, or his girlfriend (whether she’s being cheated on or looking for a threesome...)

So anyway, I threw myself into the sea of girls on Tinder and waited for a fish to bite. Immediately, I was flooded with the usual line-up (you know, the ones I described just a few lines earlier). Out of reflex I consistently swiped left until I suddenly stumbled on an interesting guy’s profile pick. He had warm brown eyes, brown hair, average body (I don’t care for the extremes anyway) and a casual style. As I dug deeper into his photos, I started to like him more and more. Until I saw one picture that stood out a bit. I can’t really explain it, I just had a bad feeling when I looked at it. In a matter of seconds, he went from a sweet boy, to a smarmy, cheesy guy with zero credibility. Of course, one shouldn’t judge someone based on one bad picture (even though he was using this specific picture to attract the attention of women) so I figured, what the hell, swipe to the right! Match.

This is the point where I wait. You can call me old fashioned, but I prefer it when the guy takes the first step. Yes, even on a dating app, which is barely better than a meat market. But my principle is that if I have to chase after a guy in the beginning, then he’ll never appreciate and respect me later in the relationship, if by some miracle it even turns into a relationship. I can still wipe my ass with it.

I didn’t have to wait too long because he messaged me pretty soon. What really surprised me wasn’t the speed of his response, but the content. Turns out, we’d talked before, but I had sadly disappeared. Oops. I had completely forgot about this episode. He must’ve caught me at a bad time, when one of my Tinder binges was in decline or, quite the contrary, maybe it was in ascent and I’d already hooked up with another guy. I couldn’t tell for sure because his photos didn’t seem even vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d uploaded new photos or my memory had just deleted him because I was chatting with too many other guys. This is really what Tinder is about, after all. You swipe right almost mindlessly, as soon as you see someone you like, hoping that something will happen. Let those who don’t do this cast the first stone. It’s just the way this app works, you have to keep several irons in the fire. If one of them works out, you’re happy and if one falls out, then it’s actually better this way because they obviously weren’t the one. In any case, I didn’t want to discuss the reasons behind my Houdini-style disappearing act, so I changed subject. What was his name? Let’s call him S.

I’ll be honest, deep down I wanted a relationship, not just a simple one night stand or an always available booty call. I wanted fire, love, butterflies and miracles, not just shallow fillers who might be good to pass the time with, but could never warm my heart. I had enough things to do in life, I could always occupy myself in other ways.

When the guy invited me on a date after just a few lines of messaging, I hesitated. It was a bit too fast for me. I like a little more chatting to make sure that I don’t rush it and wind up wasting my time on a guy. Okay, chatting also takes time, but meeting in person is completely different. You get ready, you go there, then you’re there for a while and you then you go home. Even in the case of a successful date, we have to spend at least one or two hours (and I’m being generous here) on the date chatting face to face. This is more than enough time to discuss most of things previously said in our texts. It’s better for me if certain things turn out quickly in messaging to save myself from disappointments and embarrassments on dates.

S.’s offer made me wonder because I told him my week was already full but he was really bent on meeting up ASAP. His urgency was probably because he wanted to meet up with me before I could delete myself again. Whatever the case was, it was a bit difficult for me because my schedule that week was full of catching up with friends, sports, hobbies and who knows what else. The only night I had free was that very evening he asked me on the date. My initial plan for that evening was to hurry home after work, wrap myself in my soft blanket and snuggle up on my comfortable couch to watch the newest episode of Game of Thrones. I was dying to know what would happen with the beautiful Daenerys and the hot Jon Snow.

So, on one hand I had my warm, comfy beloved home, while on the other, I had the yet unknown S. who had the potential to be The One. Oh, one more thing. I also had another date lined up for a few days later and I didn’t really want to go against my golden dating rule. Even though I had multiple irons balanced over the fire, I’ve never found it fair when someone dates all over the place. I wanted to give the opportunity to the first guy that I’d already scheduled a date with and then only date S. afterwards according to my rules.

But rules are made to be broken, so this one time, forgetting about fairness, I decided to give into his plea. I postponed my wonderful evening plans with Jon Snow, for at least with a few hours with S. After all, I could still watch the new episode of my favorite series, after the date. Date set: we’d have a wine spritzer downtown.

Before we said goodbye on Tinder, I got another sweet little message or rather request from S. He asked me for my phone number so that he could ring me in case he was running late. Isn’t a true gentleman never late? And if he is, aren’t the only acceptable reasons: he had to revive a kitten in mortal danger; he had to help his mother to avert some gigantic catastrophe; or he had to give emotional first aid to his best friend who was going through some unimaginable crisis. In cases like these being late is, of course acceptable, I’m not made of stone. But I’m not stupid either. After some online chit chat I don’t just give my phone number to anyone, not even to the President of The United States. I mean, we’ve all heard about those pathetic dates when a psychopathic asshole harasses a poor girl or guy for months. I didn’t plan on giving him my number, so I told him, “Thank you very much, but I can read your messages anytime on Tinder”. (P.S. There is only one phrase that can top this, if he says, “Don’t take public transportation. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up in my Ferrari.” Oh, really? I guess the Ferrari’s trunk is just as uncomfortable as any other car’s. Although who knows, I’ve actually never tried it and for obvious reasons I don’t plan on either).

I don’t think I’m paranoid. It’s just common sense. If you don’t know him, don’t give yourself out to him. S. also has to accept it, there’s no phone number until he steps out of the shadows of Tinder.

The day went by so fast I didn’t have enough time to go home and get ready for the date. So, I felt a bit embarrassed with no make-up, no pretty clothes, nothing. So, I had to go to the date in my work clothes because back then had no idea that I’d spend the entire evening with him. In the end, I decided to ignore all my embarrassment, after all, it was S. who didn’t allow me enough time to prepare because he insisted on meeting. He couldn’t expect me to be all glamourous on such short notice.

Anyway, by the time I arrived at the date, I didn’t look bad or good, just, you know, average. I didn’t have a lot of problems with that because I’m not a big fan of make-up. It’s better for me when the guy gets to like me for what I look like naturally, at least then he knows what he’s getting what he sees from the first moment on. Well, it’s not too shabby this way either, I look more or less like this on my Tinder photos as well. Except for the coat, which I zipped up to my chin because although it was Spring, sadly it was chilly.

Before every date I’m anxious, but I guess that’s normal. I tried to repress these not exactly pleasant feelings, until I realized the Ferris wheel that we were supposed to meet, was nowhere to be seen. Either this guy was really oblivious or he just wanted to mess with me and he was having a good laugh at home while I searched for the Ferris wheel that had obviously been taken from the square weeks ago.

Neither of the options sounded too good. I pulled my phone out and sent him an urgent message, “Hey! That certain Ferris wheel isn’t really here anymore. I’m sitting on a bench near where it used to be, you’ll find me there.”

I wasn’t worry about him recognizing me because I look just like I do on my Tinder photos, but I was worried about him not showing up. I tried to reassure myself with the thought that it was him who insisted on meeting me that evening, so I sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t stand me up.

I was sitting on the bench, reading a book, glancing up from the corner of my eye every now and again to check out what was going on. He was late, which I could hardly tolerate because as the saying goes, time is money. Simplistic and maybe silly, but true nonetheless. Besides, nobody should have the audacity to waste my time. After a while, as I examined guys walking by, looking for my date, I glimpsed someone who might have been S. He wandered around near me but it wasn’t the cute S. from the photos I liked on Tinder that I hoped for with the warm eyes instead it was the cheesy, makes-my-hair-stand-on-edge S. from the bad photo, I ignored. I didn’t want to spend any time with this S. I’m not a religious person, but I started to pray silently. “Please, let it not be him, please let it not be him,” Regardless of how much I repeated the mantra to myself, he still walked over to me.

It was him. Turns out that his bad picture was the real one... Great start. I tried to convince myself that the date could still turn out to be a pleasant surprise, although deep down I suspected it was only wishful thinking. His slicked back hair and unbuttoned shirt up to his chin or down to his navel didn’t further his case. His messenger bag didn’t really give him a masculine look either. Of course, I tried hard not to judge him on first impressions alone, so I listened to him soliloquizing about his job, his hobbies and whatever else he went on and on about. He was awfully boring and I felt with every nerve in my body how much he struggled to paint an ideal image of himself. I don’t remember anything about what he talked about or what he did professionally, but the impression he made on me was burnt in my memory forever, because his actions went above and beyond everything I’d sensed about him from the first moment I saw him.

As I’ve mentioned before, we planned a wine spritzer, so I was a bit surprised that he didn’t suggest a wine bar. There were so many good places nearby, we had dozens of options. You may think he hesitated because he couldn’t make up his mind on which bar to choose? I wish!

He spurted out happily that it was time to drink something. He showed me the wineglasses lying in wait inside his bag. He said, we just needed to buy some wine and mineral water in the nearby supermarket and we could have a toast. I tried to convince myself it was just a bad joke. I mean, seriously, he wanted to make a good first impression by suggesting that we mix our spritzer in the park in glasses he’d brought from home? He must’ve been kidding, right? Nope. He didn’t jovially pat me on the shoulder laughing, “Come on, I’m just pulling your leg. Who’d actually plan such a pathetic first date?!” No, he really meant it. What’s more is, he expected me to do a happy little dance celebrating his cheap idea. Because he’s so resourceful and clever! How very clever! How... pathetic. It was the only adjective that came to my mind. I mean, I don’t expect fireworks, a five-star dinner or diamonds, but a first date should at least be above a certain level.

Not to mention the filthy state those glasses were in! Who knows what he had put in them or what he planned to drop in them during the big spritzer mixing. Luckily, I’ve never been date drugged and I wasn’t planning on starting now. So, I told him, “I’m terribly sorry, but I got a stomach ache and couldn’t possibly swallow a drop of alcohol. Of course, you can drink if you want to.” That’s when he started the nagging and the emotional blackmailing, “Oh, but come on! Just a little bit! We’ve agreed on drinking together!” Pushiness didn’t get him anywhere, I became more resolute. After a while S. let it go and decided to just get a beer if I insisted on being so cruel by only drinking water.

The supermarket was a really romantic date venue. I never imagined a better date. The crowds of tourists pushed us around under the fluorescent lights? D.I.Y. cocktail making S. Isn’t it just wonderful?

After shopping we went back to the benches and S. continued his self-adulation. When he finally asked me if I liked watching T.V. series and of course I told him, Yes. I immediately wished I hadn’t. He lost it. “How could you like series?! You’re insane! Don’t you know that all T.V. series are stupid?”

How lucky I was to have an enlightening date who happily pointed out my stupidity for watching T.V. series. If his self-adulation wasn’t enough his petty lecturing on T.V. series sealed the deal.

Although the date was awkward from the first moment, still found a way to raise the bar I mean lower it. I don’t know how he didn’t notice that we were literally incompatible polar opposites. Maybe I misjudged the situation and I was the only one feeling repelled. I found it pretty bizarre that he didn’t notice it, though. He crept closer to me on the bench while I desperately tried to retreat from his advances. It didn’t work. He tried to kiss me. Needless to say, I pushed him away immediately. The funniest thing to me is that he was actually surprised. And now comes the part I’m never going to forget, S. groaned, “Oh come on, don’t ruin the mood.”

Excuse me, what? There are all kind of moods, but I don’t believe that the mood we were stuck in would have ever, in the history of dating resulted in a kiss? I can’t believe he told me, not to ruin the mood, what the hell! I’d be really curious to know if this ever worked with any other girls, but then again, I’d bet quite a big sum that it didn’t.

So, that was the last straw for me. I’d considered saying goodbye to this jerk for a while, but I’ve always found it difficult to get rid of annoying people. How do tell a lame guy, “Sorry, you’re really humiliating, I really rather be with my comfy couch and ‘stupid’ T.V. series!” S. wouldn’t have more than ten minutes more from my life.

I gathered my strength bid a swift farewell, and told him exactly how I felt, “I’m cold and I’m dying to see the next episode of my stupid little T.V. series.” To which he said, “You would rather watch Game of Thrones than have sex with me?”

Excuse me, did I hear correctly? Oh yes, I did. He dared to ask the question that nobody should ask under any circumstances, especially not on a first date, when I the most horrible bitch had already ruined his magical mood by not letting him kiss me. So, the moment came to forget about being polite and tell him as directly as possible, “Of course, I’d rather watch Game of Thrones. Excuse me, but I didn’t even let you kiss me, so I think it was quite obvious that I’d rather do anything else than have sex with you.” Then I stormed away without ever looking back.

In the end, I didn’t regret meeting him. At least I have a story I can laugh about for the rest of my life. I mean, I’m not the type of girl who cries from the idiocy of some immature stupid guy I met on Tinder. I prefer to see the value in the joke of it all (a joke that’d take a really good standup comedian a lot of effort to come up with). True, I could’ve snuggled up at home by myself and watched Game of Thrones an hour earlier, but oh well.

You think this is the end of the story, right? Well, sorry to burst your bubble. The best is yet to come! The cherry on the cake, the little umbrella in the cocktail, or if you wish, the shit in the pancake.

(You can find the end of this chapter with many other stories in Right Swipe Stories.)