The shitty season that is Autumn has arrived, and it has well and truly grabbed us by the balls and suckerpunched us in the tits. Raise your hand if already you’ve stepped on non-crunchy leaves or got caught in the rain – and maybe double raise if you like pina coladas and have half a brain, you should write to me. Maybe we can go somewhere nice. 

With the falling of the first rain comes the unmistakable sound of tiny locks frantically clicking away: a merry No-Mo’-Ho to you too, because cuffing season is upon us. A time when cups of hot cocoa, watching romantic comedies, and the defrosting of Michael Bublé should be moments shared with a new bae, a new boo, a new human version of a hot water bottle. Like the past 23 years, I have once again missed the boat on the ball-and-chain-Summer-outlet-shopping-spree and found myself beginning of October sad, miserable and alone. 

Just kidding, I’m always a miserable bastard, not just October-April. 

Now, as one does when the Christmas holidays are only a few long weekends away, and last resorts start to look like dream vacations in Bali, one might redownload the apps one has previously sworn off in many written statements. I have said many times before that what is left on Tinder and Bumble is mainly the raisins on a cheese platter, but hey, if I’m still on it, it must mean there’s some brie out there somewhere. 

Personally, I don’t do Tinder. I’m on Bumble, for the sole reason that I like to tell myself that that one is less sex-oriented than OG Tinder. I don’t know why, but it’s not the weirdest lie I’ve told myself, so it’s fine. However, there is this really weird feature on Bumble, and it high-key freaks me out: when you sign up, you have all these boxes you can tick so it adds stuff to your profile like how tall you are, what degree you have, if you like dogs or cats and what you’re looking for. Fun fact for anyone who ticked all those boxes: you don’t have to. It’s not compulsory. No way I’m telling you what my ‘top three of things that make a relationship great’ is, or that I’m a fucking Aquarius. I know astrology is really important to some people and I fully respect that, but personally I can’t afford to be picky about something as random as the month your parents conceived you in. Maybe you’re a Sagittarius, maybe you’re great, maybe you’re just a trash human being, okay? 

However, the ‘what I’m looking for’-box isn’t even the worst one, there’s also ‘wants children someday’. Fuck me, it’s not a box us emotionally unavailable people want to see (ticked), alright? Especially not in combination with ‘not looking for anything serious.’ So it’s like, you want children, but just definitely not with me?? Why would you even tick the box ‘not looking for anything serious?’ I mean, I guess it’s nice you’re being transparent, but how can you know in advance what’s going to happen? I don’t even think I want kids, but damn, are you going to be sorry when you fall in love with me and I won’t want to carry your babies. 

Needless to say, I quite avoid people with too many boxes ticked – not that you should take it personally, I might as well could’ve skipped adding the second part to that sentence altogether. However, I did start talking to someone who is really cool. We might be going out for drinks soon. Hope they don’t find this blog and think I’m a chronically unhappy sarcastic twat. It’s always better if they can find out in person. 

Click-click. Did you hear that? That’s the sound of me cuffing my… cat’s tiny feline wrist to mine, because honestly, you know something’s bound to go wrong on this date. Stay tuned to find out how I ruined it!