Soulmates on Tinder

Soulmates on Tinder

Newly single and fresh on the market, like those pickles in a jar – you either hate it or you love it. Me? I’m just trying to cope in whatever way I can. I turn to my friends for advice and it turns out – they are a very bad influence.

One of my many Polish friends suggested that I join Tinder, so I bloody well did. I clicked on the first guy I liked, who happened to be peering out of me from my phone screen with a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

‘Yes, he is my kind of man,’ I tapped the ‘smash, I’d shag you’ button.

‘Match!’ my phone buzzed.

(For anyone that doesn’t understand Tinder, it is rather like a game of smash or pass. You click like if you fancy them, or you swipe no if you don’t. If you both ‘like’ each other then it is a match. All very, very shallow and don’t expect to find your soulmate on there, but I sure as hell gave it a shot.)

“How many whisky’s’ can Jack Daniel’s see? (In a Southern accent) Oh, maybe ten-eh-see,” I dropped this guy a line.

I got the ball rolling with a joke, not a simple ‘how you doing?’ No, that is not my style – if they don’t like my sense of humour then I am wasting my time.

“Excuse me, while I fall hopelessly in love with you,” he buzzed back.

BINGO.

The conversation between us flowed passionately and furiously for a couple of days. We asked each other all sorts of questions: I talked about politics, music and languages. He told me about his job and eating breakfast in France. It was a dream of the impossible, surely romance couldn’t blossom on Tinder? Then it stopped. All of a sudden it came to an abrupt end. He just didn’t reply.

“Hey, I invested emotional time in you,” I wanted to reply; but I wouldn’t say it. That is not what Tinder is for – don't expect to find your soulmate on here.

“You seem desperate,” my male friend shrugged. “What are you trying to prove?”

Good question. What the hell am I trying to prove? One more smash or pass, just one more, I am addicted to the torture.

I find this one guy who pleases me, as his profile is rather funny, although a little rude.

“Call me Captain Ahab and humpback at mine.”

“Hey, I am well-rehearsed in Moby Dick,” I message the guy in a kilt; of course with a drink in his hand.

“Whoa, you’re literate,” he responds.

God damn. Goodbye Tinder. Not for me.