Choppy Waters

It seemed that over the last year I caused something of a small sensation, at least amongst my friends, off the back of a post I wrote about the perils of using Tinder. Wow, I thought, I must be something of a minor Dickens, penning such incisive social commentary. Wow, had I yet to have some real life experience! 

2015 began promisingly, with, as the reader can imagine, a couple of Tinder dates. These led to little, except being ejected from the infamous Admiral Codrington pub for a little too much ‘heavy petting’. I think the words of the bartender were ‘that’s enough of the floor show’. A good tale, but I have yet to darken the doors of that particular establishment since. Was it a good omen for the year to come? That’s for you to decide. 

Following another number of pricey and rather disappointing dead-ends through the labyrinth that is the dating app, I decided that the best thing was to eschew all forms of online succor and try my luck in the scary, real world. I must say that it has been a damn sight more successful but also a little more frustrating when thing have not worked out. That’s where I find myself as I write this post. 

When I write this, I must try very hard not to come across as some scorned lover or a melodramatic fool, it’s an unattractive quality and, those who are familiar with me know that I am intense enough as it is. 

Writing is a great therapy and perhaps a great way of casting off one’s sorrow at the peril of another’s rancor. I hope not to the latter, it’s certainly not my intention to hurt anyone, as such everything remains in vague terms. 

I’ve always believed the best things happen when you’re not looking for them, a much harder thing to achieve than you would believe! But so it was that, riding on a high from great weather, great booze and a few hours bantering with a best mate I headed to a party in Central London. 

It was one of those nights in which everything clicked, especially my charm. I’m an acquired taste at the best of times and I met a few kindred spirits that night. Most notable there was one, an attractive girl, fun, sparkling conversation, great figure... I think we all know where this is going. Drink followed drink, followed drink followed drink, until we were all huddled around a kitchen table drinking slivovitz and raising toasts to imaginary luminaries, conceived on the spur of the moment...

...The next morning hit me like a ton of bricks, but I had woken up with someone rather attractive and with great chat (the most important thing, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise). Peeling myself, reluctantly, from bed, I helped/hindered in cleaning up the aftermath of the party and made my way to Finsbury Park to take advantage of a free ticket to Wireless - a hugely generous present from a very special friend. 

The seeds were sown and the dating started. I’m afraid I am a novice, but I invest, and I threw the kitchen sink at it, great restaurants, largesse came to the fore. I am sure that most men reading this will share a certain concern, in that dating is an expensive pastime in which there is often little reward... It makes me sound very bitter, don’t get me wrong I have no regrets but when you look at the bank balance, it’s a chastening experience. 

In the basest terms of this dating escapade, we had: a fish supper (a bloody good one too), drinks, many more drinks, sex, dinner, drinks, drinks, drinks, weepy friend turning up, night at home, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, both too drunk for sex, museum visit, drinks x 6, dinner, drinks x 8, argument, grumpy cab ride, sex, 1/2 week of texting... end! 

Wow, I have put it in the most base terms, and it feels a bit harsh, but it’s hard to describe a fling (although I felt it was a little more than that). It was one of those terrible situations when I feel I was more into it, more indulgent and as a consequence more vulnerable. 

I wanted this to develop into something more but, you know what, you cannot force someone to be interested in you and if they want to end it in the early stages, for whatever reason, then fair enough. I’m mature enough to understand, no-one wants to feel trapped. Better to find out now than later down the line. 

I think the worst moment is receiving a text to the effect, it’s terribly impersonal more than anything else. An anodyne statement that it’s over coupled with a half-hearted excuse, rooted in the virtues of personal freedom and my personal welfare. It always seems that I obtain this kind of statement on inappropriate platforms or at inappropriate times, which never helps; I remember one occasion I had a break-up call on a train whilst sat with my then managing director, stalled outside a Nottinghamshire power station!  

Such is life I suppose and it’s best not to look back in anger but focus on three weeks of great fun shared with someone entertaining. It had its moments, but overall I had a great time and it went to prove to myself how much I enjoyed dating. I look on, and look forward to the next romantic adventure with no hang-ups. 

You can’t start the fire without the spark... literally!

Bruce Springsteen, back in 1984 waxed lyrical about dancing in the dark and that fires need to be started with that initial spark... how very true he was. Before you wonder why I am taking apart one of his most successful chart hits I had better bring this post to the point... Tinder, or the dampest squib of an app I have had the misfortune to sign up to and use. 

Of course it is rare to find a tech based post on the pages of this blog but this supposed dating, socialising and porking ‘phenomenon’ has been as much of a curse as a blessing to poor naive fools such as I who have been beguiled and subsequently disappointed by this platform that offers so much promise but delivers so little. 

For the uninitiated I will give a brief overview. Tinder effectively allows you to judge people on their appearances within a certain radius of your choosing. Using a simple swipe method you can choose from a selection of tastefully appointed photos to ‘like’ or ‘not like’ a person using a simple swiping method, right for yes, left for no. On occasion you might get a match, meaning that you have both like each other or, more likely they have fallen for the charms of your quite flattering and utterly charming photos. The match allows you to start messaging each other and here, supposedly the magic starts to happen, casual sex aplenty, a future spouse, blah, blah, blah. 

Now, before I am cast a terrible old cynic by readers I do have it on some authority that Tinder has worked for some people, I am yet to be convinced. Call it a case of sour grapes if you will some might say that I only have myself to blame - photos displaying my crows feet and prominent jaw or an honest photo that indicates my five foot four inch stature might not be everyone’s cup of tea. However, I have had a few matches in my time and it is through these that I have found the flaws in Tinder, at least where I am concerned. 

Like any good argument, let me give a few case studies to prove my point, although I am sure it will probably make the readers think that the fault is entirely with me, my acquired personality and rugged looks! 

Tinderette #1: A nice girl, the only person at fault was me. I was too overbearing and completely fudged it with nervous texting like a gambling addict on a one arm bandit. Here I could not blame Tinder. However, I liked the lady in question’s slight when she let me down gently. ‘I’m not sure your personality quite fits with mine’. 

Tinderette #2: Again someone who seemed very nice and we ended up sharing rather a passionate kiss or few after what I thought was a very successful date. Message comes through but days later to let me know that after a serious relationship she was not sure if she was ready, apparently I had opened her eyes to the difficulties! Oh well! 

Tinderette #3: This was a neuroses and paranoia overload. Very nice but the need for self assurance became overbearing. I must say that I was attracted, enjoyed the company etc. but the amount of messages asking me to justify why I was interested became bizarre. Surely her personality, her looks and the attraction were enough. Sadly it wasn’t meant to be but at least we parted after 3 or so dates friends. 

Tinderette #4: This was truly the pits. A good looking girl started messaging me following a match and expressed an interest in meeting up. Great, thought I  and asked where a good location might be. Well, came the response, I live in Sussex and you live in London. I then suggested that we meet in Guildford, bearing in mind that for me it was a good 1 hour journey there. However, spurred by curiosity and the messaging that had taken place I was intrigued and, having no plans on a particular Saturday night I suggested a few cocktails at one of the city’s chicest bars: MKB. Having arrived there on a sultry spring evening I proceeded to order a double Canadian Club on the rocks, smooth I thought a real player’s drink. The bar was empty at 7:00pm, obviously Guildford hadn’t warmed up yet, the sizzle of nightlife hadn’t quite caught on yet. So fifteen minutes went by and then a text telling me that my date would be 15 minutes late. Fine, I thought, saw off my drink and ordered another. 30 minutes, 45 minutes... I was starting to get a little irate, tapping my flat, loafered foot on the polished floor of the club. People were starting to look at me with a tragic pity... oh dear. After 60 minutes of naive waiting I soon realised that this date might not materialise and that I had come down to the jewel in the home counties’ crown on a fools errand. Sure enough an hour and a half later I got a text telling me that she was ‘tired and frankly couldn’t be bothered’... delete (followed by an hour’s commute back to London!) 

Tinderette #5: This was most recent and the one that really inspired me to write this post. This particular person made first contact, became attentive and on my suggestion was keen to meet up for a drink. We had arranged it for this week and it seemed that two attractive people were going to meet for an evening of, if nothing else, amusing banter and interesting conversation. Alas, as I looked on my phone this morning I found that I had been de-matched by this particular person for who knows what reason - i had not been in touch since arranging the meet, maybe there was my error. Thank goodness I did look, or I would have been at a loose end around the South Bank for a long time (sometimes I live in far too much hope!). I was more put out by the method than anything else. I felt it rather cowardly, can people not confront it head on, I certainly wouldn’t have been offended if I had been shot down flames... I’m used to it! ;-)

Anyway, five examples for you to make what you will of this rather inconsistent app! Let’s put it this way, when they ask me at regular intervals for feedback I feel less than charity and perhaps because that I am too keen, a jack russell personality if you will, for the app. It’s hard to gauge anything through mere texts and perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised at my success rate, but it’s difficult not to feel a little chagrin. 

Will I stop using it? Ask many of my friends who I oft complain to about the general disappointment of Tinder. No, of course not, it has its fun and, unfortunately, like so many of its users, I live with a slight hope that something good might somehow, someway come of it!