Like an addict, the reward system in my tiny affection starved brain soon started craving that swiping action, and I logged back into Tinder and Bumble. I also set up an OKCupid account, which I have done before with minimal success each time. I am not sure why I thought things would be different on this occasion, and of course it wasn’t.
OKC is different to Tinder and Bumble in that it’s not a
swipe based app. You have the option to fill out much more information, you
have to complete a compatibility questionnaire that asks your opinion and
stance on a range of topics. There’s a
limit on the number of profiles you can like in one day, but you can send intro
messages without matching.
On the surface, this makes OKC pretty appealing, and would
lead you to believe that it might not be haunted by the same grubby sex pest
that roam the halls of Tinder, asking women if they want to be pissed on or
join a threesome. As it turned out, my 2-day run on OKC merely resulted in a
conversation that reminded me exactly why some people are single.
His name was Tony. He sent me an introductory message which
actually reflected something in my profile (usually men just say, ‘I liked your
profile!’ this is probably because they have been told to mention the profile,
but can’t actually be bothered to read it so just use a copy and paste
approach)
I checked out his photos. My immediate thoughts were, ‘I’m
not attracted to his physical self’. I told myself that I should give guys like
this a go, and just because he wasn’t immediately physically appealing to me,
didn’t mean that he couldn’t be if I got to know him. Then the messages
started. Floods of essay length messages that swayed between trying to psychoanalyse
me, to berating himself for sending such messages, to telling me about dates he
had been on or was going on; his parenting style; his ex; his thoughts on whether
or not my childhood had damaged me mentally; asking for my number, getting
salty when I said no… on and on it went.
I went out for the night (pre 10pm curfew times) and showed
my friend Elizabeth the messages. After a while, she went, ‘I can’t be fucked
with this,’ and handed me the phone back.
I blocked Tony when I got home that night, and deleted OKC.
 |
| This is what I'm working with, folks |
Julian - 38, 39 (September 2020)
I matched with Julian a few days before I deleted Tinder
again. It’s time for proper adults, I thought. He had ‘super-liked’ me. He had
two photos, neither of which really showed what he actually looks like. His
messages were articulate, and there was no immediate move to sex chat, or
pressure to swap numbers. All excellent signs.
We met on a sunny Sunday for a coffee. He was slighter than
I expected and had definitely added a couple of inches to his height. On the
plus side, he had made an effort with his dress, and looked smart and smelled
nice. He was obviously in good shape, and enjoyed being active. The conversation
flowed; he was interesting and his stories about his life (his childhood, his
own adult children, his work) were engaging. He didn’t monopolise the
conversation like the D Word did. We had a lovely afternoon, and though I
didn’t get that, ‘yes, I fancy him,’ feeling I agreed to meet again.
We went out for dinner this week, and again I had a lovely
time with him. I just couldn’t picture wanting to kiss him. What is wrong with
me? I thought, for the 1,000,000,000 time since I started dating. Here is a genuinely
nice man who seems interested in me, is intelligent, normal and can hold
a conversation. Yet when he went to hug me goodbye, it just felt so wrong and
odd. I can’t explain it, just that I wanted the hug to end immediately, and
kind of turned my face to the side so he couldn’t move in for a kiss.
He had text by the time I got home again, asking to meet up
at the weekend. I said no. I wished him luck, and again wondered why I hardly
feel attracted to men anymore. I guess Tony would have some theory on that,
that my attachment style is avoidant or whatever. It could just be that I am so
utterly tired of dating that my lady boner has forever withered and died.
Rogue’s Gallery
Mickey (September
2020)
I matched with Mickey the same week I matched with Julian.
Mickey, so called because he reminded me of annoying twerp Mickey Bunce from Drop
Dead Fred... if Mickey Bunce had frosted tips, perma-tanned skin the texture of an elephant's arse, jug-handle ears
and was an awful person.
Like a fool, I agreed to exchange numbers, and soon learned
that Mickey’s primary method of communication is memes, gifs, and photos of
himself from 20 years ago.
He seems to be one of those people that’s on a ‘spiritual
journey’ and will send you motivational quotes and tell you about the healing
power of crystals, David Icke videos and he kept telling me to ‘be more
positive’ and ‘you’d look better if you smiled more’. It seems to me that
people like this are often the least willing to go through any kind of
self-examination, and blame their unhappiness and bad luck on external forces,
like the vaccinations they had as a child.
Responses to my questions would result in 10 or 15 long
replies, but he would ask me zero questions in return. He sent me 6 videos of
his new workplace, where he walked around proudly announcing, ‘this is our wet
suite’ and ‘this is the reception…we don’t manage this bit,’
Oh Mickey, you’re so bland, you’re so bland you make me want
to blow my brains out.
Yesterday I decided I couldn’t be bothered to schlep to
Gerrards Cross on a Friday night to have date with someone that had more red
flags than a bullfight. I texted him saying I was sorry, but I’d changed my
mind and wished him the best of luck.
I have been left on read, and he has not replied…sometimes
the trash takes itself out.
I have cut out all the photos of album covers he sent me, because you know...we don't need to be here all day.
Bob (September 2020)
Me: we should meet up for a daytime rum one weekend.
Him: I’m pretty busy for the next few weeks, but I’ll let
you know when I’m free.
Later….
Me: so what you up to this weekend, then?
Him: Nothing, no plans. I really wanna have sex all weekend
I will continue to keep my eyes open for real life chances,
as rare as they seem to be. But for now, the world of on-line dating can do
one.
