Posted on July 28, 2017
I was walking to the coffee shop with my colleague when she asked me what my plans for the weekend were. “Got any dates lined up” is a question that I’m often asked, and unfortunately, the answer lately has always been negative. I just can’t muster up the courage to give a fuck about Tinder, Bumble or the next IJustWantToBeAnAssholeAndGetLAidAppNumber1000. Even at 22, it can already feel that all the Good Guys are taken – and I’m not even talking about boyfriend material, I’m talking about one date, a normal conversation and an honest, witty and charming attempt to try and sleep with me. Is that too much to ask?
I recently told you about the cute, albeit a little bit not-so-smart, guy I met on Bumble. The non-dick pick-Snapchat guy, remember? It only took him a day to ruin the perfect conversation we were having. You know how? He sent me a snap while he was in the shower. In. The. Shower. Very, very strange but I still kinda just went with it. It was only his face – and although I seriously started questioning his general intelligence – I still let it happen. I know, I surprised myself too, but I had told myself I would give this one a proper chance. Unfortunately, the next photo he sent me was of him doing that weird cupping thing. Caption: ‘Suck my ass baby’. I told him we had a good run, it was fun, it was time to say our goodbyes. He then actually sort of apologised and I still didn’t delete him. I should get a fucking award for that – for perseverance, patience or stupidity, you decide. However, the next day he sent me a photo of him in his swimsuit (he’s a lifeguard, I can take that) with a pizza drawn to his dick (cannot take that). Caption: ‘Do you want a piece of this’. A for effort, B for Boy, bye. He still sent me a few snaps, only containing the word ‘streak’. Honey, do you think I actually give a flying fuck? Maybe I should spell it out for you, as you have proven to not be the brightest lamp in the store: I could literally not care less about this ridiculous expression of ongoing conversation. Let the flame go, dude, nothing to ignite here.
The aforementioned colleague, after telling her this story, thought it was fun to start swiping on Tinder for me. Results: one guy who opened the conversation with “Your hot, I’m from London, I’m an architect”, some other plain dudes and then, my favourite: the U DTF Dude. That was literally everything he sent me. I just laughed in his face, saying it was the most easily refused offer of my life and asked him if that has ever worked for him. Apparently, yes. Good for him, still not interested. Sigh. I guess at this point there’s not much more for me to do then to wait until all the Good Guys get divorced.