Answers: Two of Pieces of Flint? Sounds like a Radio 4 program about foraging. Flame? Cheap escort service – girls with themed names like Lightning. Whatever happened to the gladiators of the nineties I wonder? I would definitely watch that reunion “documentary”. Anyway, back to the question at hand with the answer being TINDER! I always thought to settle for a spark but then we’re back to foraging so let’s stick to Tinder.
For those losers out there who don’t know what this game I mean dating app is all about, let me share with you my Scarlett wisdom. BTW when I say ‘losers’ I mean children, people my parents age (you’re not allowed to go on Tinder, psych!), and people in happy settled relationships BLURG (that’s the sound jealousy makes, children). People already in relationships have been known to dismiss this app as a virtual meat market. Those singles who have actually used it give a more mixed review. I’ve heard from the single guys and gals who are on Tinder that it is definitely an app forward slash game more about dating than over lets say Grinder. Not hard as I have been told by gay men that Grinder is an app mostly used by them so they can meet and enjoy cheeky blowjobs in pub toilets.
I would hazard that Tinder is more about the dating because of the female influence – I personally need at least two dates and three large glasses of wine before I’m willing to ‘give head’. I can’t believe I just typed ‘give head,’ who says that except prostitutes in Hollywood movies about prostitutes? And I’m lying. I’ve actually never given anyone a blowjob (simulating it on a banana at a hen party doesn’t count apparently) because I have a genuine fear that if a guy came in my mouth I’d projectile vomit over them as a knee jerk reaction and if I tried to take it out just beforehand it would get me in the eye, again. Yes I said again – the first time was a very weird, very painful hand job moment I may share at a later date when I talk about my fear of hand jobs and blindness.
Let’s move back to Tinder. After my sister bought me a frog that turns into a prince when you add water (she laughed A LOT more than I did) I decided to join Tinder as part of my New Years resolutions list. Surprisingly, my sister who is happily married and pregnant with the first grandchild, jumped on the idea, “Oh do it do it so at least you can come back and tell us awkward embarrassing stories!” Rude.
I’ve spent the last week fantasising that instead of embarrassing stories, I’ll be regaling them with Samantha out of Sex and the City porn style ones about my many Tinder fuelled conquests. Yes I shall leave them squirming with shame especially when I draw them graphic illustrations at the dinner table MWAHAHAHAHA! Of course in order to do that without making it up I’d have to swipe right on a bloke at least once (right for likey left for no likey). The problem is a lot of the guys seem a wee bit intimidating – they’re all bloody action heroes! Literally I have never seen so many snow boarding, rock climbing, lion taming, bear hugging, water skiing fitness freak people in my life! But the guy I’ve just come across is not doing any of these action hero things, he’s smiling whilst holding a glass of wine or cup of coffee in pretty much all of his (albeit black and white) photos. Good sign – he’s probably a functioning alky. Okay, breathe, you can do this Scarlett, just swipe right to like, what’s the worst that happen? (Apart from possible temporary blindness, obviously.)
Turns out nothing happens. Nothing at all happens unless he swipes me back. A nail biting hour goes by until…
He likes me! It’s a bloody match! A match! A member of the opposite sex who I also find attractive has liked me! I’ve had a better hit rate in the last five minutes than I have in an entire evening (year, I meant year). Don’t pity me, I’ve got a match!
Now for the next nail biting scene in this saga, what do I message Wouter? Yes, that’s my match’s name – clearly not real, it must be his Tinder name or something. Do we have Tinder names? Never mind, what do I say now I wonder. My seasoned Tinder friends have explained that typing ‘Hi how are you?’ just doesn’t cut it when introducing yourself anymore. Man has been communicating with this pleasantry for the last millennia but someone somewhere has decided that this is now dull to the point of redundant. I’d rather call it classic like a 1920s Rolls Royce (aka wedding car) or The Godfather but I may end up alone for the rest of my life with these out dated thoughts so I shall conform to being innovative. This is what I come up with:
“Wouter?! LMFAO What’s your real name guy?”
Two minutes later he replies:
Yeah okay, good one guy. My response:
Now I am definitely confused. What does he mean What The Fuck? Maybe the capital ha-has were a bit much. It does make me think of Baron Samedi in Live and Let Die. Tone it down Tate!
Pause. Maybe he doesn’t know what the VBG acronym is. I didn’t know what it was til I looked up popular acronyms two minutes ago hence LMFAO. I should have stuck with LOL from the word go but he might have thought I meant love you lots, which is definitely a bit much at this stage although I’m not sure it’s worse than what’s happening right now. Is his name really Wouter?!
“*Very big grin btw”
“My. Name. Is. Wouter. NRN.”
Shit. Really? Okay keep it light.
“Yeah so’s mine! What does NRN mean?”
Turns out NRN means no reply necessary. Oh. Wait he’s sent me another message.
I try to reply with the ever witty “You’re a dick!” but he’s already blocked me. This is a brutal game (app, whatever) indeed – I thought the hardest part was getting a match but as it turns out, true to picking someone up in a bar, the hardest part is actually forming sentences the other person doesn’t hate so that over days (days!) of chatter they eventually ask you if you want to meet for coffee and MORE chatter! I am exhausted.
Right, lessons learned from this exercise?
1: Don’t ‘like’ someone who’s name sounds like it belongs to a pipe smoking cartoon bear wearing a tweed three piece.
2: Swipe more than one person in a month – this is blanket iphone dating for the ADHD generation after all, you need at least ten (ten?!) on the go to stop yourself getting suicidal after the first rejection.
And 3: Risk being alone and stick to the classics; hey, hi, hello, how are you? Or even a bit of vintage Friends if you’re feeling outrageous ‘How you doing?” (I’m mostly joking about that one). Because frankly, if it ain’t broke by now it’s doubtful that you’ll be able to come up with something better.
Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed my rambling, please join me next week for more Scarlett Tate based nonsense and in the meant time please do follow me on Twitter @ScarletTate710