Tinder Stories – The Worst Date Ever – Part 1

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances, I have changed the names of individuals and places. 

So where do we begin?

Marc and I had been seeing each other for a few months now and I guess what I need to make acutely clear is that we were not exclusive. We told each other that we had dates and how those dates went, in detail may I add. We did have rules when we were together.

  • Phones down
  • Pay attention
  • Don’t waste each others time.

Mid-week and Marc asked if I wanted to dinner on Friday at a restaurant neither of us had been to.  He said he would book the table and we could make an evening of it.

Well, this is that story.

Now on Friday, I go to work. On this particular day, I worked late. In fact, I worked a 12 hour day and the realised I had dinner at 8PM and needed to go and get ready. It’s now 7.30PM and I still have not heard a peep from Marc which wasn’t unusual however we hadn’t worked out the finer details of that evening.

So at 7.30ish I text him and ask what the plan was. He said he would meet me there and I then told him I was going to be about 10 minutes late because I had worked late.

He said that it was fine and I said I would keep him the loop about my ETA and with that, I went to my best friends house and did my hair because I wanted to debrief for the day and work out a couple of things.

It was at this moment when she expressed her deep concerns for how useless Marc was being.

Hair did, gin and tonic drank, I got into my uber and headed into the city.

Sent a heads up text that I was on my way thinking that he was already there as he was working in the city that day.

What follows is not how a date should go. 

I arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes late. Marc was not there and I proceed to order myself an expresso martini because:

1. its Friday and 2. I am tired as fuck by this point.

Drink arrives, still no Marc.

Halfway through my drink, still no Marc.

Drink finished, proceeds to text Marc telling him that he is now late and orders another drink. I shall remind you, he was meant to be there before me.

Then I see out of the corner of my eye a very flustered guy walk through the door, points at me and shake out his hands.

It was Marc and he plonks himself down next to me.

And he tells me he can’t hug me.

His hand is covered in blood.

Confused I asked what the hell happened to him and he tells me he was on an ONZO bike (which is a bike renting app) and he was racing to get to me and the handles broke and he fell off.

Puzzled; I had a few questions.

  1. why was he racing to get here when he was meant to be on time?
  2. why was he late in the first place?
  3. why the fuck is he trying to wipe his blood on me?
  4. no seriously, why the hell is he trying to wipe blood on me?

Practically yelling at him to not put his blood on me it causes the waiter to come over. I ask for a bandage and tell him to go to the bathroom and clean himself in my ‘you are being told off like a child tone’. The waiter leaves, Marc leaves and my drink turns up.

In this time I call my best friend and she replies with how very confused she is and that she thinks I should leave.

Marc is now back, the waiter is also back with plasters and I am playing nurse on a Friday night in a nice restaurant.

He orders a drink and asks me what I am drinking but doesn’t seem to get the hint that I have questions that I would like answers to as he jumps around my question of how his day was.

He replies “it was good” and I ask if he had any meetings – “just the one”.

Side note: If you want a pointer on telling when people are lying, short answers about themselves means somethings askew. People love talking about themselves.

He then asks me about my day and I simply reply “really long” and we both silently take a sip of our drinks.

We get sat at our table and start looking at the menu and I ask where he was before here and Marc says “I was drinking”.

Now my interests have peaked, short answers with no details. Something is up. My friends will know, I do read into things a bit too much but it is because I am normally right (there’s at least four blog post I could write about that).

We order dinner and talk about our week and plans for the weekend. Both of us are busy. He then blurts out “I am in a bit of a cunty mood”. Now I query that because things are getting more bizarre by the second and I can’t figure out why. Clearly, something has happened to give him an ego boost. I would call Marc a very proud creature and I assumed he would tell me eventually but it wasn’t going to be over entrees.

I excuse myself from the table and call my best friend again in the bathroom because I know she’s on the couch and explains to her what is going on. She agrees. Very strange and messed up. She asked me if I was joking about Marc trying to wipe his blood on my legs and I remind her that I couldn’t lie to her even if I tried.

We order another round of drinks and I ask what he had really been doing after work. He says he went for coffee with a girl in the morning after his meeting.

Now it didn’t come as shock like I said we weren’t exclusive, though he had kept this under wraps.

So I ask him how it went and he says:

“I told her I didn’t want to go back to work and she said I shouldn’t, so I didn’t, I’ve been drinking with her and her friends since then. I am actually fucked”.

What.

Literally what the fuck.

So I reply with “so you were late to dinner with me because you were on a date with a girl and you drank too much and now you’re fucked?”

And as if he didn’t pre-warn me about him being a cunt he smiles and says “yes”.

With the magic that is the world, the mains arrive and I sat there waiting to be slapped in the face whilst my brain worked things out.

I begin to calculate and break down the math in front of me, his meeting was at 9am because I had stayed the night on Thursday and left him in bed just that morning. His meeting was short and I knew he had nothing else booked for the day. And as I slice into my lamb I realise that this guy had been on a bender since 10am.

I remember sitting there thinking if I should ask him if I interrupted his evening but he clearly saw me thinking and asked how my meal was. I said he should try some and downed half my cocktail waiting for someone to tell me this was all a big joke.

He then spots the table next to us and the drinks they are having and asks if we should get them. Yes. Let us get more alcohol to the table and specifically into my body because I need to survive this evening. We finish mains, cocktails arrive and well some god was watching because we have order long island ice teas.

I have never felt so welcomed by the inner party goblin in me telling me to just down the entire thing but I bargain with her with consuming half, excusing my self from the table again and if you haven’t guessed it, calling my best friend.

She is now giving me step by step instructions on leaving the restaurant. “book an uber right now, pick up your shit and get the fuck out of there”.

And you know what I did.

Not that.

Because I am a dumb dumb.

I sat down and asked why he was in such a ‘cunty’ mood.

He shrugged and though well my evening is ruined we might as well play petty and ruin his as well.

So I leant forward onto the table, looked at him dead in the eye and said the word ‘penis’.

Now if you haven’t played this game called ‘Penis’ it’s very easy to understand. You take turns to say the word ‘penis’ louder than the last person in a public place until you are too embarrassed to continue and have to back out.

Marc, being a proud person hated losing. We had discussed this at length which is important because he also hated child games.

“What”, he said.

And louder than last time I said “PENIS” and continued to drink my long island ice tea.

If you haven’t realised this yet, I have had a stupid amount of alcohol and am definitely not myself, Patricia’s cousin is out and she has no fucks to give.

Picture this: two adults on a date, one covered in blood and blue plasters, drunk, the other holding a permanent frowned face and now almost yelling the word penis.

I should also point out that at this point Marc is now playing the game and the waiter walks over putting dessert down asking us if we would like another drink. To which I pause the game and say yes to a gin and tonic.

We order and Marc takes this moment to go to the bathroom and yes ladies and gentlemen I call my best friend and tell her once again what is going on and once again she tells (shes actually yelling down the phone) me I should leave.

Find out what fuckery happens in part two.

 

 

The never-ending​ date – Tinder Stories

Seems unfortunate that it was Snapchat that reminded me of these suppressed memories. Forewarning and a word to the wise, don’t do what I did.

It was a Saturday night, I was at my best friends house and her flatmate brought home a bunch of people who had been at an awards ceremony that evening. As we all know people get sloshed at these sorts of things and this was no different. Having a yarn to these people on the couch one person, in particular, caught my attention. We chatted and he was clearly white boy drunk on wine and unlike some men who walk this earth, I didn’t push the situation. Instead drove everyone into town on my own way home and left them to it.

What was to my surprise was that the next morning, lying in bed I was swiping through Tinder and saw the guy I had been talking to the night before. Chuckling to myself I swiped right to him (that’s a yes I would like to match with you, for those of you who do not know how Tinder works) and we bloody match.

Now if you know anything about Tinder, matching with someone actually doesn’t mean anything. So I messaged him asking about his hangover. He was indeed, very dusty.

We get chatting and find out we are both from the South Island of NZ and that we might indeed have mutual friends and if you aren’t picking up what I am putting down we then added each other on Facebook to compare friends. Tinder messages led to Messenger and that led to getting a drink and talking in person.

Standing once again in Ponsonby I hugged the dude who was well over 6ft and asked what bar he would like to go to. Settling on a spot we arrived, ordered and proceeded to get ID’d because Seren looked not her age when wearing pink apparently.

But just so we know that I am not perfect in any light I left my fucking wallet in my car which has enclosed, my ID. So within the first 5 minutes of meeting *Clyde, I have to ditch him and run back to my car and get my wallet.

So there I am jogging down the road to get my wallet, snap chatting my best friend because my mistakes make her laugh.

I get back to the bar and we start chatting. Jogging to your car and back really settles the nerves which were quite apparent as Clyde was bouncing his leg so aggressively the table was shuddering like a small chihuahua.

We were a drink deep, talking about what we have been doing with our lives for the past 3 years and he spills the tea on his ex-girlfriend. You could see it on his face, just how much that girl hurt him. It’s very confronting but also refreshing seeing someone wear their emotions on their sleeve.

Now what caught me off guard was him asking me if we wanted to share a bottle of wine at his house. So we went to the bottle store, brought two bottles of wine (because we couldn’t settle on one) and drove to his house.

Yes, I told my friends what was going on and yes my snap maps were on. I also told Clyde that if he murders me, he couldn’t get away with it. He wasn’t expecting me to say that.

What I can tell you is what follows.

Clyde and I drove home, wine bottle clinking and then it occurred to me that I was standing in a garage that was a workout room/ laundry/entryway. Then Clyde began to whisper. We went from a normal conversation to barely be able to hear him. Then I remembered people don’t have as chill flatmates like I do.

So he grabbed some glasses and waved me through to his room and I was like “wow, Clyde with some big moves over here, ushering me through to his room, not so timid in his own home”.

But ladies and gentleman, girls and boys, he should not have done that.

  1. why does he have a $4000 computer set up (and before anyone disputes this, Dad runs a computer business, ya girl grew up around tech) but his bed is on the floor? He had a bed base but no legs. In fact, the legs were sitting in a bag in the corner of a room.
  2. why had he insisted on me going first when he should have taken this opportunity to hide the pizza boxes – AND I MEAN PLURAL AS THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE – from my very observant eyes?
  3. why he tried to kiss me whilst juggling two bottles of wine and their glasses as he clearly wasn’t from a hospitality background?

Now if you need to know anything about me, its that I generally pay attention to all of the things all the time. Which didn’t bode well for Clyde because his dim lighting was not helping the situation rather making me look harder because it was like he was trying to hide something from me? WHICH HE CLEARLY WAS. Pizza boxes cannot be disguised as anything other than pizza boxes.

So I am standing in a room full of empty pizza boxes, just been kissed by Clyde and I haven’t even taken my jacket off, let alone put my wallet down. He then puts his wine glasses down – almost smashing them and says he’s just popping to the bathroom, to which I take the opportunity to send a snap and my location to my best friends.

Once again, take the time to check how to get out, check in with your friends and remember no means no. I will forever remind you of this.

I also take this opportunity to pour the wine because I don’t know what the hell else to do with myself and the Clyde appears in the doorway super chuffed, to say the least. Now I am trying to be as open-minded as possible these days and I think “bugger it, give him a chance”.

That my darlings was a big mistake.

It’s 1am. We are talking, cuddled up, I am wondering how I should start making tracks when he clearly was reading my twitching lip and said “you’re staying right?” and guys I let my wine brain talk and she said yes. Please play in your head ‘That wasn’t me it was Patrica’ from Split about 8000 times.

Now wine + wine + wine = Seren fighting to be the last one asleep so she can go home and be hungover by herself. But Clyde he had other ideas. Gave me a t-shirt to sleep in and was insistent that I couldn’t leave at this time in the morning as he wanted to take me home, his mother raised him that way and well at this point Patrica is in full control.

Fast forward to the most intense cuddles I have had from any man in my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t going to die of hypothermia in my sleep, nor is anything going to get the chance to attack me but at one point when my hair was definitely stuck for the 47th time that night. I did begin to think we started to become one being. Very dark times. So I wake up 7am and immediately would like to go home but no.

First I got the “I had an amazing time” to the somehow letting Patrica say yes to a fucking shower but FINALLY it was time to go home and we are driving and I’m like the joker in the back of the cop car, practically high from thinking about my own house when the car stopped.

Bless his fucking soul. Clyde said, “so your picking where we do breakfast this morning…”. The bubble popped, I was not at my house, I was not dreaming, I was not by myself, the date is approaching the 12-hour mark and I took a breath in and asked Patrica to take control. She blurted out a brunch spot.

Now don’t get me wrong, Clyde – lovely guy but I am now not wearing any make-up, in last nights clothes and desperately in need of time to reflect. I would call Clyde politely persistent and me a lost lamb who looks like a raw potato.

So finally, we are back in the car, yes we are driving home and then I remember, I can’t go home.

My hopes and dreams stop and gasp when I yell in the car “WE HAVE TO GO TO PONSONBY”. Like a manic motherfucker without a filter on. Clyde literally just cracks up laughing and asks me if I am okay.

Oh, but how silly Seren forgot that her car was where she left it last night at the start of the date. Its been so long I thought my car had just magically driven itself home like I did in my own head 400 times over the past 14 hours. YES, 14 HOURS.

I had almost forgotten where I had parked my car and I was like the kid who spotted Wally after everyone had been looking for him for so slightly too long. I almost punched a hole through the windscreen when I saw it.

We pulled up alongside and Clyde looked like he was going to cry, he double checked he had my number and asked me out on another date there and then. I said I would need to check my schedule and get back to him but that I was also going to be very busy that day/evening so don’t panic if I get back to you later tonight.

I hugged him, trigger reminded me of being snuggled to death and got into my own car.

Watched him drive off, turned my phone off and stared out of the front window waiting to be teleported home. Honestly, I have no idea how long I sat there for. But I finally turned the ignition, drove home in some sort of daze and practically sprinted up to my stairs.

And I can tell you now, there is nothing that can top the sound of my front door closing and the sound it made as I knew the date was finally over.

I then shred my clothes, put a robe on, put my washing on, ran a shower, recleaned my soul, boiled the kettle and made myself a cup of coffee.

It was now almost lunchtime, I rolled my blinds down, crawled into bed and vowed never to let Patricia take control ever again.

 

 

 

Tinder Stories – Why are boys dumb? – Part 2 an update

Once again I am questioning my own sanity and can’t seem to wrap it around my brain as to how I got myself in these situations. 

I said this update would be a goodie and I wasn’t lying. Why you may ask? Because these tinder blogs do catch up with me which makes for great tales. So here are those stories. 

Starting back with my first ever tinder date and all the statement jewellery he wore we find ourselves out on a Saturday night in a common club in Auckland. When out of the corner of my eye I see Tim in a full suit, pocket square and all trying to talk to every single girl who manages to make eye contact with him. 

Now, unfortunately, I have been left alone because the other half of my party had gone to the bathroom. Watching from a mere 2 meters away I felt like a classic tourist who had spotted a bear who had come out of hibernation only to go missing and be found in the bowels of said bear. Tim, I can tell you was hunting. He had a girl literally tell him to fuck off before he decided to try his banter on her best friend.

But then, he saw me. I’ve never seen a man lock eyes with his prey quicker in my life. It was at this moment I began to think what the hell was everyone doing in the bathroom. 

In 0.003 seconds Tim had closed the 2 metre gap and was saying these words. 

“Its Seren right?”

“Who?”

“Its me Tim, Seren why don’t you remember me?”

Girl, I remember you but I don’t want to know you. Also why the hell is your tongue outside of your mouth?

“I didn’t know I was your first ever Tinder date!”

And then I remembered that many moons ago I saw I had a message on facebook from Tim that I read over briefly that he had read the blog post. This, however, wasn’t my biggest problem at this second in time. It was still the fact that my brain didn’t understand why the hell Tim had suddenly become the Lizard Man. 

Honestly, I thought a third eyelid was going to appear. Before I could answer, his tongue flicked from left to right to left to just hanging out of his mouth waiting for me to respond. And then it suddenly occurred to me that this dude was pinging out of his mind on drugs. Pupils the size of his ego, tongue out of control like his gold accessories and yabbering on about him which was nothing new. 

But just as I breathed in to respond Tim jumped right in and said: 

“your blog post was fucking hilarious, I honestly didn’t know I was the first person you ever went on a tinder date with! You are so funny”

I quickly replied “thank you for reading the blog, hope you enjoyed it”

And at that moment I thought about dying then and there and being done with my life. Just become one with the floor and melting away for forever. Everyone came out of the bathroom to which I almost screaming at them that our Uber was here, that we were leaving and pretty much getting into a sprint in my trashed heel all the way to the door. 

I’m going to assume at some point Tim will read this and all I have to say is go easy on the drugs next time, you need those brain cells. 

Now we must move on. Move on all the way to Brent and how he temporarily ruined pasta with his farts. 

Brent, as it turns out also, came back into my life. And I’ll say this right now, Brent I am not your girl but she is out there. 

Once again I will remind everyone that I take a good while to post about these dates and when they actually happen. 

  1. because time makes for great reflection.
  2. because I have to get over these traumatic dates. 
  3. because your girls life gets in the way of me writing these. 

So back to Brent and all the time that had past. I wrote a blog post and if you haven’t caught on yet Ill spell it out for you. Brent reads the blog too. 

Now don’t be thinking I keep the blog a surprise. No my darlings my bio on my tinder reads “trying to stop writing entries for my blog series about tinder stories, wanna help a girl out?” 

It is literally the first piece of information you can get your hands on. I have been questioned on my blog many times. I have had men say they do not want to go on a date with me because of the blog (suspicious, I know), I have had men specifically ask me after we have dated for MANY moons not to be written about on the blog (you know they know its bad when they say that). If you are one of those two people, I am a woman of my word, will not write about you on the blog. 

Okay back to my evening after I had written about Brent when I was out on a run and I went to go change the song when I saw Brent has slid into my DMs not once, not twice but three times. 

Brent had read his own blog post and this is what he had to say, prepare yourselves, at this point it had been two months since we last spoke: 

“Was that post about our date? I kinda figured I would be on there”

“Sorry you had a bad time but hope everything is all good. Again I’m sorry.”

Then 20 minutes later…

“Can I just make it up to you somehow? I feel like absolute garbage after reading that.”

Yes the pity train has arrived and you are all hopping on board and leaving the station but before you descend into the tunnel of sadness let me just highlight and analysis some things for you as you need my perspective on why I didn’t reply. 

And yes you read that right, I did not reply.

My points are as follows: 

  •  it had been two months of no contact. 
  • the blog was the only thing we had in common.
  • if he figured he would be on the blog then you know he knew it didn’t go well. 
  • the 20-minute delay is a gap in which he thought he could turn this around. 
  • asking if there was somehow he could make it up to me followed by a very cheeky and trap line of how he feels like crap. 

Whilst you are all on the train off to pity town I am still on the platform knowing all too well that its one big ole trap.

So shout out to Brent if you are reading this, you clearly are doing fine without me, keep hustling that carb diet whilst you can. 

Yes, there are more stories coming but I just want to say how much it warms my cold soul when you share this around and how you and your friends get all excited when I post. I get incredibly shell-shocked when people I don’t even know through friends of friends tell me how they know me as the girl who writes the blog. So cheers, you make me feel very lucky! 

Tinder Stories – Why boys are dumb? – Part 1 an update.


I asked a hot second ago on my Instagram if I should do an update on all the previous tinder stories and the poll read 100% so here we are.

But don’t panic because this series isn’t over and I have a few more stories up my sleeve and well, I am still single. There will be a day I wrap up this series but today is not that day. 

So let us all take a trip down memory lane and revisit the previous stories. 

Back in part one, I had a trip to Max’s house. You can catch up on all the details here.

But it was a few months after that night when I got too drunk and redownloaded Kic because I was seeing what was on my Apple account – would recommend you go for a scroll as it is rather funny. Especially when you have had too many gins. 

And lo and behold I had notification from Max. I snorted so hard because I forgot all about him. 

This is what I was missing out on over the period of weeks. Max was true to his character; incredibly dumb and persistent. 

My favourite part of this screenshot is:

  1. the time I took it. 
  2. the consistency of when he messages me. 
  3. and the desperation that can be felt in his last message. 

Since this amazing moment Max has appeared on my Tinder not once, not twice but a grand total of 4 times. He also tried to add me on Instagram but I blocked him the second time. 

Hot tip: really don’t be like Max and don’t ever say “come here”. 

Moving on we go to the hilarious time I got catfished. This story actually took a twist thanks to social media. Shout out to Louise who follows the blog and broke things down for me and slid into my DMs. 

Matt or Greg – we may never know. He was actually using photos of an actor called Derek Theler. As Lou explained he is an American actor on the show Baby Dady. He is not from New Zealand or the UK. But if we ever want to figure out, I have an unwanted/unasked for dick pic to compare notes too, thinking about it though, that’s more than likely fake too.

The mystery continues and I am still disappointed in my ability to recognise a tall white generic male. 

Next week I have part 2 of the updates. Ladies and gentleman, you are not ready for what is coming. 

Seriously. 

Hint: they know…

 

 

 

 

 

He ruined pasta with his farts – Tinder Stories Part 4

Alas, we find ourselves once again reading about a story a tinder date that didn’t work out. Yes, Seren once again went on a date. I am now officially adding perseverance to my CV.

So let us again take a trip back in time. It was a Wednesday, its 8pm and I still park 50m away from where he actually lives because of what I said in Part 1. Brent and I we going for a drink in Mission Bay and for those of you who aren’t from Auckland is a place with a beach, beer and well somewhere to walk just on the outskirts of the CBD.

It was literally and figuratively downhill from there. The stroll to alcohol was rather painful because of a few things:

  1. I wore heels and walking downhill was crushing my toes.
  2. The alcohol was too far away and not in my body already.
  3. What the topic of conversation was couldn’t have been more strange.

As Brent and I walked you could clearly hear that I had overdressed thanks to my heels but I doubt he cared as he told me all about his digestive habits.

You too now get to enjoy the conversation I somehow didn’t run away from. He told me that he eats a lot of food. More than anyone at work. Do remember he isn’t overweight in the slightest and he hits the gym at least 3 times a week. So 3 times more than me.

With eating a large amount of varied food came a conversation that most couples never have and if they do its many many moons into their relationship. Not minutes into meeting each other.

Brent informed me very clearly that with a large consumption of carbohydrates that his body proceeds to create large amounts of unpleasant gas.

We were about 6 minutes into our walk. We had just gotten past the small talk of what we had for dinner and well now I was worried about what else might happen tonight.

He continued to talk about his body and all its magic tricks, I repeated the lines that came out of him and he laughed at his own conversation.

“So pasta isn’t good for me but I eat it anyway”.

“Pasta isn’t good for you, that isn’t ideal”

* Brent laughs *

* Seren stares at the ground screaming internally “THIS DATE ISNT FUCKING IDEAL” *

We finally arrive at the bar and grab a table. After a vigorous walk downhill because the quicker we get to the bar the quicker I can drink, the quicker this can all be over.

Now I totally understand what is it to get nervous around a complete stranger, I have done that. I actually blurted out “So do you like cheese?” on a date once. He was good looking and well that got me really frazzled and that is all my brain could come up with when he looked at me.

Heres a tip for all of you, just don’t talk about bodily functions on a date. No one needs to know when you poop.

Brent is sitting there unzipping his jacket when it gets stuck. Just like the conversation did only a few minutes prior.

“oh that is so annoying, I only just brought this jacket, see look”

He then proceeds to pull his jacket around his body in some sort of exorcist fashion and show me that he still had the tags attached to the jacket.

It was now at this moment when I thought to myself, how the fuck did I end up here.

Once again I needed a fake phone call whisking me away but instead, I endured hoping it would get better.

Its like when you are yelling at the tv when you are watching a horror saying to turn around and run in the opposite direction and not look back.

I was the classic white girl who thought she should check it out and ends up dying.

Instead of dying, it’s just me wasting my time.

It was to the disappointment of Brent that I wrapped things up early. Girls gotta sleep and get the fuck out of there.

So as we started the uphill walk back to his house he thought he would revisit our topics of conversations.

We were mostly home and mostly through the bad conversations about how often Brent goes to the bathroom which rest assured is a normal amount when my phone starts to ring.

Thank the baby Jesus it’s my mum. Jenny saves the day with a random phone call

And you sure as hell know I take the call explaining I was just catching up with a friend and she decodes it as a date and askes me all the closed questions.

“Is it going well?” “Um no not really”

“Are you okay?” “yeah yeah”

“Want to call me after?” “That sounds like a great idea”

I hugged Brent goodbye, jumped in my car and well put my mum on speaker phone and proclaimed how fine I am with being single at the traffic lights.

 

 

He was my first and didn’t know it – Tinder Stories Part 3

Let us go back in time. To the first ever Tinder date I went on.

And by date I really mean coffee.

You see in the beginning I was rather tame. I was the girl who got asked out. Don’t worry I got rid of that very naive girl.

Because of this experience.

We shall call this guy, Tim.

He is a financial advisor and in his late 20’s.

And as they all are, he was lovely. Very friendly and not a murderer. Tim didn’t know that he was my first ever Tinder date.

Tim got an early coffee date in Ponsonby on a Wednesday.

Giving you some backstory here, I had drunkenly agreed to meet Tim in a club one evening but instead went home by passing the McDonalds on Great North Road, crawled into bed with a cheeseburger (WITHOUT PICKLE BECAUSE THAT IS THE DEVILS FOOD) and went to sleep. I woke up to many messages and a sore head.

Needless to say, I said sorry and made a new time.

So I have been running around all morning, working and doing errands, Tim and I have finally agreed on a place and a time.

1pm on Ponsonby Road.

Its now 12.42pm and my phone is at 1%.

Yeah, yeah, we know now that the universe was trying to give me a sign – WHICH I CLEARLY DIDNT TAKE.

So being the smart gal that I am, I use my car’s clock, wait until 12.45 pm and head into the cafe.

Being nervous I thought it would take 15 minutes for me to walk from my car to the cafe.

Girl. It was a 60-second walk.

But that doesn’t matter because I checked my watch.

Which I look at to see that it is not working.

Yes, yes sign number two.

WE GET IT.

I order a coffee and find a seat. Because I don’t want to be late when I had stood him up that weekend.

Now I will tell you time does not move more slowly than when you are waiting for a Tinder date.

So I get halfway through my latte when a tall guy in a full suit strolls through the door.

I smile and he walks over.

And before I can even stand up to give him a hug and apologize for standing him up that one time.

Tim says:

“Why did you not pick up your phone when I called you?”

Now listen, we literally had not even said hello yet.

My first words to him in the flesh are.

“My phone died.”

And just like the millennial generation, we are he fired back with:

“your lying”.

To which I pressed the home button of my phone multiple times to show how it just wasn’t working.

And like a three-year-old, he snatched it out of my hands and tried himself.

Now I was taught never to snatch and never to take anything that wasn’t yours.

But I think Tim missed those lessons because he’s now trying to turn on my very dead phone.

He shrugs and asks me if I have a drink and at this point, I don’t want to give him any of my time so I just point to my coffee and offer the fakest smile my body could conjure up.

Tim starts a conversation in regards to me flaking on him the other weekend and I take the opportunity to apologize and say that it would not have been a good idea anyway.

Then the waitress walks over.

And Tim ask if I would like a drink and I re-point at my coffee. He then orders a whisky and ginger ale.

Now whisky can be cool. But he asks me if I want a proper drink. Reminder, its 1pm on a Wednesday.

Here is an insight to all of you, listen to people when they tell you what they have planned for the day.

I would love a drink but guess what, I have to go and take care of small humans, drive them around and then go and do my third job later that evening.

So no.

No thank you Tim.

Then it occurred to me, I will have no idea what the time is or when can I can get the hell out of this situation. I can’t even check in to say that I haven’t been murdered or take a fake phone call.

So I think to myself, this is your first ever time and you should just give Tim a chance. Think about the other person Seren and then I realise Tim is talking and I really haven’t been listening. This Tinder dating thing is not as easy as I was expecting. I am not like a duck to water this time. I am a duck to a dessert, confused to how I even got to this.

So I chime into the conversation and ask the normal questions of how is work going and have you has it been busy.

I ask him a question about himself to which he responds with “oh, I am a really laid back guy”.  What I am seeing in front of me is this.

A dude who goes to the gym 6 days a week, wakes up at 9am and goes to work around 2pm, is covered in gold jewellery. By covered I mean; gold watch, gold rings, a gold bangle and a gold chain. He also is smoking and offers me one to which I politely decline.

And out of the blue, he straight up asks me when I see myself getting married. Listen, buddy, I don’t know what I am having for dinner tonight let alone when I want to get married. All I know is that it’s not going to be to you and now I have finished my coffee and should really go but the conversational flow is definitely not leaning that way so I just say fuck it to another $5 and 30 minutes of my time and order another coffee.

I have no idea what time it is and the waitress has no idea that I would love her to save me but we can all just pretend that this is all going better than it looks.

Skip ahead in the conversation, he’s on his third cigarette and second whisky and I now know he’s looking to settle down. I ask a very difficult question. “Why do you find yourself single?”

The response sealed the deal. Put the nail in the coffin and made me delete the app for about a week because I had forgotten that men like this actually exist.

“I guess I am single because I want someone who will fit into my life. I don’t see myself changing because my life is great.”

And just like a scene from Limitless, I watched the next phase of my potential life play out. I’ll give you a sneak peak, it doesn’t end well. I cook chicken, steam broccoli and give up all my aspirations for a man who likes to wear too many gold accessories.

So I asked for the time, fake gasped like any good woman knows how to do and made it so believable that I just had to run because I couldn’t miss the school pick up even though it was 2.15pm.

I’m pretty sure he never figured out I was lying because he asked to meet again. And I said I was busy for the next while. I mean I was, busy building a life that wouldn’t give up.

Fun fact, I saw Tim in a club many moons later and even then he said we should go and get coffee. I also think Tim has coffee and whisky very confused.

That time I got catfished – Tinder Stories Part 2

Swiping away on Tinder there are a few things that go through one’s head.

  1. This is horrible and I am a bad person for saying no to all these potentially lovely people because they don’t look good.
  2. I swear I have seen this profile before.
  3. Superlike the person you know and now have caught on Tinder.
  4. I swear I have seen this profile before.
  5. Unmatch all the drunk 3am matches.
  6. Freak out because you realised you got catfished.

For those of you who don’t know what catfishing is, let us turn to our old faithful Urban Dictionary:

Someone who pretends to be someone else, especially on the internet. Found on anywhere from Instagram to Twitter to chat sites, these people use fake pictures to disguise who they are. A synonym for this in some situations may be “troll” because the majority of catfish out there are simply out to troll others, while others have their own reasons for this approach. Often catfish, once discovered, are faced with people full of annoyance and frustration at being “catfishes”

– Urban Dictionary 2018

Now I never thought I would get catfished, I mean does anyone. If I was going to throw down stereotypes, I would say men get catfished, not women. But alas, its 2018 and well here is the story of the time I got catfished.

Being a tall gal that I am, 5’11 if anyone is really interested, my perpetual fear is that I potentially meet ‘The One” and he turns out to be shorter than me. Oh and if he put tomato sauce all over his food. Both things that I would just say no to even if he was perfect in all other areas.

So when a tinder profile says heights, its a factor. If I think a guy looks short in comparison to his friends in his profile, I’ll just swipe left.

You can imagine my surprise when I stumbled across Matt.

IMG_2784

I will tell you right now, that I have mastered the art of looking shorter in photos when standing next to my male counterparts because I love a good pair of tall heels. On a very serious note, all kitten heels should be burned along with pickles. Both are the spawn of the devil. But back to Matt, who I absolutely swiped right on.

A couple of days later we matched and we started talking. We got on, he had a bit of banter and he told me how he had jumped back between the UK and NZ.

He asked me if I would want to meet for a drink and I agreed. Though the evening we had agreed to meet, I had a rather busy evening ahead, your girl had triple booked herself. I had said that I would pick my best friend up from work and fought traffic for an hour to get him because no one should catch the bus on their birthday. I said that I would have drinks with Matt and just to keep it interesting I said that I would also have drinks with another Matt later in the evening.

How to date in 2018, just do it all in one evening. Like a tasting course but with shit company and lots of gin.

On my way, Matt and I were chatting about the fact that he might be finishing work late and that our drinks at 6pm might have to be postponed. Bear in mind that we had already called a rain check on drinks twice before due to other commitments.

I was about to merge onto the motorway when the guy threw me a curveball. I said that I could be potentially late because of the traffic situation and that I had an event to go to that evening (by an event I really mean, another Tinder date). Word for word, this what he said:

“I’ve got good news and bad news babe.

Good news is I can come meet up!

Bad news is I probably don’t have time for a full sit down drink 😦 

Shall I bring some beer or a wine over to yours?”

To which I responded 

“Oh I’m fine for just A drink at Mr Toms, I have a dinner party to go to at 7.30”.

I thought it was weird that he didn’t have time to meet me in a bar for a drink but was willing to bring around more than one drink to my house, to meet me. Crawling through traffic I texted him back and said we can cancel if need be as I can’t miss my event/ dinner party and that I wasn’t getting off the motorway.

So fast forward, I’ve picked my best friend up and we are heading back to the city with good time and I am applying a face of makeup as Matt texts me to tell me he was just about here.

He gets 5 brownie points because be offered to pick me up but minus 8 points for being super early.

Matt sitting at -3 brownie points even before the date.

Face applied, outfit checked and the man kept waiting, I headed out the door.

Now he wasn’t lying when he said he was tall. I hugged the dude and I totally had to go for the underarm snuggle because I would have to climb him like a tree to even attempt an over the shoulder hug.

We jumped in his car which he seemed to cram himself into like a clown into a mini and drove just down the road to a bar.

He opened the door for me (+ 2 points) and told me to grab a table before asking me what I would like to drink and headed towards the bar (+2 points).

Sitting at a high table I suddenly heard my name. Which for someone with a very uncommon name I thought I had heard Sarah. However, it was, in fact, someone asking for me.

To my disbelieve and utter amusement on waiting for my gin and tonic to arrive, standing before me was the father of the girls I nanny for.

Auckland may have 1.5 million people but this was proof that it was a small city. Awkwardly explaining to him that I was on a date and that my date was now coming back to the table I think had to do bloody introductions.

Just imagine introducing your date to your boss and not skulling your drink. If I could have melted into the floor, I would of.

Sensing my uncomfortableness my boss excused himself to the bathroom and Matt and I got chatting.

This is what I know about Matt:

  1. he was born here
  2. split his childhood between the UK and NZ
  3. went to The University of Canterbury
  4. works as a digital analyst
  5. he is a wet blanket

I switched off after 20 minutes and I was trying to figure out how many times I could stir my gin and tonic before the lime flew out.

Matt then said he was going to pop to the bathroom and when he got back he wanted to know all about me. As he left the table he asked the bartender for another round. This is the one and only time I have almost turned down gin.

He gets back and starts to ask all the normal questions; do you have any siblings, can you explain your thesis to me, what do you want to do with your degree, blah, blah blah.

People and hospitality talk about a fake laugh or smile they put on. I believe I have found my fake amusement for Tinder.

I can’t remember what we were talking about but I distinctly remember Matt telling a story about himself and saying:

my mate was like to me, ‘Greg don’t be such a dickhead'”

Greg.

Greg?

Who the fuck is Greg?

He was meant to be telling a story about himself or did I miss something.

Ive had two gins and I am not sleep deprived. I swear I just heard him say, Greg.

Either way, now I’m frowning like a child who has just been told no by their mum in the supermarket and my tinder date is finally getting the signal that its time to go.

I excused myself to the bathroom, fire off a message to the best friends about what just happened and that we were leaving the bar.

He drops me back at my friend’s apartment, tells me he had a lovely time and to have a nice evening.

Dude was nice don’t get me wrong, but nice guys finish last.

Then I was back out the door again to the next tinder date.

I can tell you right now, that was a far better improvement than what I had just experienced.

Oh and if no one has figured out yet, women who date are fucking savages.

Cue the weekend.

Matt texts me, multiple times. I just don’t reply.

My gut is telling me not to text him back.

So after my last experience, I don’t.

Cue June and I am back swiping through tinder at 3am when this came up.

IMG_3157

That looks like Matt.

With the same bio, the same age but different photos.

I wasn’t tripping balls.

I, Seren Powell-Jones got catfished.

Now you might be asking how did you not notice when you met him? Did he not look like the photos?

I couldn’t see his face when its in the outer stratosphere.

I can tell you he drives a white Rave Four like car and that he listens to rock. But the details of his face are as clear to me as Auckland harbour after it’s been raining.

So I took a screenshot, sent it to my best friends and then I super liked him.

Sadly it wasn’t an instant match and I hate drunk Seren who cleared out her Tinder.

To conclude, this is where I call on the power of the internet.

I’ve tried to reverse google him to no avail.

So, does anyone know who Matt, Greg or Jeremy is?

Or if they know anyone matching the description of the man I described?