After telling him I didn’t want to have sex with him, he still asked me out for a second date. Out of loneliness (or complete stupidity) – I agreed.
The second date was at a local pub. He was waiting – eating bar nuts, half way through a beer and wearing a Liberal party t-shirt. Before saying hello or even settling in, he said this (and I swear, it’s true):
“Jenny, I know you don’t want to sleep with me. I like you, so I found a girl who wants to just hook up. This way you don’t have to worry about taking care of me.”
How kind. A true scholar and a sir, he was. Without saying another word, I picked up my jacket and left.
I would like to say that was the last time I talked to him. However, following a breast reduction I messaged him (very much under the influence of morphine) and said, “hahahaha, new boobs.” Then a selfie of my face, which was enough reason for him to never text back.
* Dating when you’re in your 20’s (or ever, probably) is rough. Meeting someone, going out with them, trying to figure out who should settle the bill – kissing, not kissing. Trying to get out of the date, one minute in. Good guys (and girls) are out there. He exists, but you have to get through 300 swipe-left’s first. And probably a lot of boys looking to see your boobs. These are all stories from boys I met on Tinder.
One guy talked the whole date about how everyone should have access to guns. He then showed me a video of him shooting a deer, beheading it and the barbecue after. I then continued to fake vomit.
The date ended with me saying, “I don’t think anyone should have access to guns.” Things went quiet – I got the tab and I don’t know what ever happened to him.
The third date was with a guy who had scheduled a Tinder date before me and another one after me. He was a serial Tinder dater. He knew how to handle it though. He opened by offering me a drink – I declined. I always pay for myself on the first date (and preferably always). He asked me about school and work and if I had ever traveled. He listened to me, he talked but never gave any personal opinion. He later texted to tell me, “the best way to get laid on a date is to listen, never give an opinion and always say she’s right.”
He also said that one minute in he knew I wasn’t going to sleep with him, so he texted another girl to meet him later that night.
I deleted my Tinder for a while and reactivated it in late February. Knowing I wouldn’t get a relationship, let alone a date, out of it – I uploaded my picture in hopes of writing a blog post about how Tinder worked.
I wanted to know how many boys were looking for a hook up, a simple picture of my boobs (which I never did) and how many were looking for an actual date.
You’ll be happy to know only 40 boys asked for pictures of my boobs, 24 asked to hook-up, and 7 asked for a date.
I never intended to respond to any of them – the plan was to keep it for a week and delete after getting the numbers.
I did respond to one guy. We met at Starbucks – I showed up early, bought my own drink, and waited while “casually” checking my makeup in my laptop screen.
He introduced himself and brought back a tea. We talked about the weather and mutual friends (which we had both obviously looked up on Facebook). He talked about his moms chicken lasagna and his cat. We talked for a few hours – neither of us made up excuses to leave. (He also never brought up guns or politics, bonus points for him.)
And we never stopped going on dates.
I couldn’t post my Tinder stories, mostly because I became the .05% that found love on Tinder.
The moral of the story is – go on lots of dates if you want to. Most of them are probably going to be people you never want to (or should) go on a second date with. Or Maybe you’ll find one who is kind and lets you change all the radio pre-sets on his car on the third date.
Good luck out there.
I once matched with a boy on Tinder who looked familiar. After talking for a few minutes, he mentioned he was at a family function. He sent me a Snapchat of the party.
His family function was with my family.
I accidentally matched with my second cousin. We never talked again.