Ahh throw back Tinder Thursday. It seeks to do two things. 1. Remind you all of the hilarity that is my dating life and 2. Remind me that it’s been ages since I last posted. The bird murderer is a goodie though, isn’t it? Always happy to have that one pop back up into my newsfeed. Anyway, dear readers… As promised. The last installment of the speed dating ditties.
I feel like I should probably just remind you of where we’re currently at. Lets see now… we had the guy with the pink hair, the picnic guy, the deadpool guy and all manner of bogans. We are 10 men into the evening with seven more to go. At this point I’ve already lost the will to live. Now, I don’t want to deny these new men my sunny and charming disposition, but we all know I’m a bit of an arsehole sometimes. As I’m sitting in this dingy pub, the smell of stale beer, puke and desperation hanging in the air, I’m seriously reevaluating my life. What the actual fuck am I doing here? I’m seconds from getting up and walking out when #11 sits down.
Contestant #11. Uninspiring physically otherwise I’d be able to recall what he looked like. Instead I remember what he said. The common ground: writing. I like to write things that make people laugh. He liked to write specifically about men’s issues. Which is great. Society should be aware of the rising instances of prostate cancer and men’s suicide rates and inequality in family law matters. All important stuff. He had such intensity in his eyes as he was mansplaining these concepts to me that I was fucking terrified. What a service this is. Dating and a formal education. Thank you sir, I didn’t know what a prostate was. He spoke at me for the remaining minutes about how the women’s rights movement has ruined society and that we work together more cohesively if women remember their cave man ancestry as gatherers. Not hunters. They should be deriving their leadership from the Hunters. I leaned forward just as the warning bell rang. “Women should just stick to what they’re good at… baking cakes and sucking cock, right?” Unable to pick up on the scathing sarcasm, he beamed from ear to ear. “You’re a little fire cracker! I hope you tick me so we can discuss this more. We have so much in common!” It was literally the whole sentence I said. Must be hard to hate women so much, believe being gay is an abomination but still want to get your end wet. What a way to exist.
Contestant #12. Poor Poor man. Straight off the back of a woman hating maniac, this guy didn’t stand a chance. He politely described how he wanted his life to pan out… Married with two children living the suburban dream. I explained I was a single mother and working and studying etc. He informed me that if we were together, I wouldn’t have to do any of that because wives should be taken care of by their husbands. Now, this guy had a kind face and looked like he could make a mean curry, so I genuinely believed him when he explained it was customary in his culture. I kindly informed him that was independent and self-sufficient and I was looking for an equal, not a minder. This was a confusing concept and he just stopped speaking. Just stopped. We sat in silence for one whole minute.
Contenstant #13. Next Indian guy of the nice who worked for Australian Boarder force. “Have you been on an episode of Australian Boarder force?” I asked, with WAY more enthusiasm than I should have. “What’s Australian Boarder Force?” He replied. “It’s a show about workers at the Australian Boarder Force… Obviously.” Deadpan. Next.
Contenstant #14. Journalist. Willem Da Foe. Initially interested as he was a bit charming and we had quite a bit of common. But during the breaks he followed me to the bathroom… waited out side the bathroom for me to come out. Followed me back to my chair… attempted to follow me to my car which was down a dark alley… ah… no thank you.
Contestant #15, #16 and #17 consisted of an extra Daniel I can’t recall, a real estate guy I can’t recall and a chef I can’t recall. The problem with taking shitty notes and not giving a shit towards the end. So there you have it. When my matches were emailed to me, 13/17 men asked for my number. Not bad considering I was openly hostile to most of them. They wouldn’t have got it. No one got any ticks. Safe to say, speed dating isn’t for me.