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?

I literally ran away from him as he lay there naked – Tinder Stories- Part 1.

So the following is a real story.

Sorry in advance mum and dad.

It was a late evening and I was at home.

My phone went off.

I had a Tinder notification.

Let’s call him Max.

Max and I had been talking for a few days, he moved to Auckland a few months ago. Left a longterm relationship, back in his hometown which turns out to be on the other side of the world.

We moved off tinder to KIC. Which for those of you who don’t know, is an app that works exactly like Messenger but you don’t have to give over your name.

Now you might be thinking, “Seren, why would you do that?”. Because Max was not relationship material. Not to me.

Standing at over 6 foot (at least that is what his bio said) and having an accent his downfall was that he the brains of a slow lorris.

Now before you get your judgement pants on and take the road of thinking you are better than me. I will remind you that everyone has a moment when their needs outweigh their rationale (and by rational I mean their sex drive is far more powerful than their standards)

The conversation had veered away from the usual “so what did you do today?” to the “what are you doing tonight ;)”

Then he gave me his address.

On a nice side note and safety tip, if you are going around to essentially a strangers house here are my tips.

  1. give that address to two different people.
  2. go to their house (you can always leave, just not from your own place)
  3. park your car 2 mins away from the location.
  4. wear flat shoes.
  5. know where the exits are and what the locks look like.
  6. don’t actually let your guard down.
  7. keep your phone on loud.

The internet gave me these and I am thankful for the internet as this story will back these hot tips up.

So I sent this address to my best friends and thought I’ll just get a little dressed up. Not for him but for me, dude was lucky I was even coming over. As I was applying some mascara my phone went off quite a few time.

It was, of course, Max because all the other men in my life were sleeping. Turns our boys need far more sleep than girls. But not our mate Max.

He was asking me how long I was going to be.

I had looked his address up, he was a 6-minute drive. So I told him 40 minutes. Because this isn’t Uber Eats.

He told me that it was too long. I told him either wait 40 minutes or wait for forever.

Then he asked me how I was getting to his.

I said on a magic carpet.

Time ticked passed, I grabbed my keys, phone and wallet and headed out the door at 11.45pm at night.

And at 11.51pm I was about 1.5km from his house and I told him I was just finding a park. For the 6 minute drive, I had been ignoring his messages about if I was actually coming.

I parked and the first warning sign came on. QUITE LITERALLY.

My engine light came on in my car. I thought to myself, welp you are already here, it is better the car goes completely cold before you drive it again and in the morning just sort it out. So I jumped out of my car and started to walk toward Max.

When I arrived, he meets me outside and gave me a quick hug before ushering me through the front door.

It was a simple lock and I duly noted that.

He showed me through to his room. Which was a mess.

I had given the dude 40 minutes and the only thing he had done in that time was piss me off and make his bed.

Don’t worry though, I asked him why he hadn’t cleaned his room.

“Oh I have just moved to Auckland and I have been really busy at work.”

Mate, you moved here months ago and then there were 40 minutes I had graced you with.

He asked me if I wanted a drink, I said a water because I was driving home tonight. Establishing that you aren’t hanging around after this is all over is great.

We started talking and Max was funny as it turns out. Nervous as hell but funny. I felt like he had Parkinson’s when he tucked the bit of hair out of my face.

So as you can imagine one thing was leading to another when I was sitting on top of him with no shirt on and my phone started to get a call.

I grabbed my phone and it was someone important.

This was warning sign number two.

But yes, you are damn right in thinking I answered it, in my bra, jeans unbuttoned and on top of a boy.

Now before you start thinking “poor Max”, the dude was loving it. As I established why I was being called late at night, Max was all over me like a rash.

At one point I shoved his head down into the pillow, glared at him and kept my hand on his forehead whilst I tried to finish the conversation.

It is just as funny as you can picture.

I did apologize but I can assure you Max was incredibly unbothered. With a half naked girl on top of you its hard to get angry.

So we picked up where we left off. Phone call over. Hand off his forehead.

And then I asked that beautiful question.

“Do you have a condom?”

And mate, you could drop a pin and hear it on his carpeted floor it went that quiet.

“Oh, um, no.”

To which I replied, “you are fucking with me right?”

“I will message my flatmate to see if he has any.”

Now, this was warning sign number three. The universe was trying to tell me to run. And I needed a game plan to get the fuck outta there.

“Can I use your bathroom whilst we wait on a reply?”

So I jumped out of bed, got FULLY dressed, socks and all. Smiled and went to the bathroom.

And I started thinking, quickly. I flushed the toilet I didn’t use, washed my hands because it needed to be a believable performance on my part and walked back into his room.

“I think I have a condom in my car, I left a bag from town in the back seat and that should have one.”

The light in his eyes was blinding. He sat up.

“Really?”

“Yep, I will just have to go and grab it.”

Saying that I pick up my wallet, keys and grab my phone.

Turned on my heels and gapped it for the front door whilst sliding on my flat shoes at speed.

Simple lock. Got it.

I literally ran away from him as he lay there naked.

But then I heard running and shuffling.

Looking back down the hallway he is pulling on pants saying how he will come with me.

I am holding the door open right now with a half-naked man looking at me like a dog about to go on a walk.

“I parked a while away.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you could be a psychopath.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I know but the car is a bit of a walk away so if you want to come you will need shoes and a shirt.”

“Why did you park so far away?”

“Because I did.”

“You aren’t ditching me are you?”

“No, no, I will get my jog on to the car and park closer when I come back, I’ll be like 5 minutes I reckon, just leave the front door unlocked and I will meet you in bed.”

“Okay, see you soon, be careful!”

I smiled and headed out the door, where I got my jog on, carefully of course.

Jumped in my car, I deleted KIC, unmatched him from tinder and deleted the app from my phone and told my best friends that I had a good story for them in the AM.

Unsure if Max’s front door is still unlocked or if he is still waiting for me but he does like to try to add me on Instagram every now and then. After his third attempt to DM me I decided to block him.

Moral of this story is: don’t be like Max, clean your room, have protection and don’t ask dumb questions.

Flatmates from Hell Version 2 – PT 2 They are all older than me.

Picking up from where we left off in part 1, we were in Anna’s room with the electrician. He went straight to the heater and I looked straight at the bag of weed sitting on the mantle place. A clear bag, with bud just sitting there. In the middle of the mantle place. Now the electrition was down looking at the heater but my mind was absolutely spinning. Not only was I dealing with an electrician right now but that thing called a flat inspection had happened just two hours earlier. My brain was racing through the conversation I had with the property inspector and I was trying to remember if anything seemed off. SHE SURE AS HELL SEEN THE WEED. Literally, would have to be blind to miss it.

Side note; I have no problems with people smoking weed. I don’t have a problem that you keep your weed in your room, where else might you keep it?  I do have a problem when you leave an illegal substance out on display for the property inspector to see.

Back to the main story. Now once everyone had left Carrie came home and asked me where her poster was of Will and Kate. I told her I ripped it down and she asked why I said I was angry and then asked her if she had completely forgotten about the fact we had a flat inspection today? She blinked and then said this:

“Yes, I did forget, but it’s not like the house was in that bad of a state.”

So then I had a very stern discussion on that fact that the house was a mess, that I had to cancel my meetings to pick up after her, take the rubbish out and then dropped the bomb that I went into Anna’s room with the electrician after the property inspector had come through only to see a bag of weed sitting on the mantle place.

“I’m sorry that you had to cancel your meetings because the house wasn’t clean enough for you and having weed out is kinda bad but you are not going to lose the lease because of it. It gives you no right to rip down my poster which was a gift from my friend.”

These were the words coming out a 27-year-old people. I apologized for ripping down her poster but then also said how angry would you be if it wasn’t your mess and you have to clean it up despite reminding your flatmates 2 days before the flat inspection and they still don’t clean up after themselves?

She then told me that because she pays rent she should be able to smoke in her room.

Where I seriously questioned if she was being serious or if she was taking the piss. She was being serious. In fact very serious. We then had a conversation where I explained that under no circumstances is anyone allowed to smoke inside. The only person who can is the homeowner. I am explaining to a 27-year old that she cannot smoke inside. I mean how did I end up in this situation?!

So just to make everything very clear because she still wouldn’t accept the fact that she was not allowed to smoke inside I left a message on our group chat.

The image at the top is the screenshot of the conversation.

I thought that would make everything clear.

But no. This would come full circle. But that tale is further down the line.

You might ask yourself what about the other two flatmates Anna and Paul? Well, Anna and her weed kept things relatively quiet for a week or so but Paul couldn’t help himself.

 

Find out the story with Paul in the next part.