I’m older and back on Tinder. (For full details of the birthday itself, click here.)
And in the spirit of not wasting any time (did I mention that I’m getting older?), within a week I have a date lined up. Yes, all it took was a week. One week of swiping and sighing and googling ‘DTF?’. If you don’t know, don’t ask: ignorance in this instance is most certainly bliss. Which incidentally is the theme of my date’s tagline: imagination brings bliss at no cost.
Back in the real world, I’m running late.
‘I thought you were leaving?’
‘Yes,’ I say, through gritted teeth. ‘But I have to finish this.’
‘Sorry to keep you waiting! I don’t want to start with a work rant.’
‘Go for it – get it out the way!’
‘No no, I’m not going to.’
‘Ah go for it.’
He’s tall, good-looking, and I like his style. And, more to the point, he looks nice, which might be why I ‘liked’ him in the first place. It might also be why I’m unwilling to kick things off with a barrage of negativity.
‘What can I get you to drink?’ he says, the rant being over.
‘Oh, thank you, ermmm… is that a caipirinha?’
I close the front door behind me, drop my bag on a chair, and go through to the kitchen. Ten minutes later I emerge, plate in hand. My phone is lying on the table, next to my computer, which I power up. Five minutes of scouring Flickr for a ‘smiley face balloon’ later – the things I do for my readers – by which time my supper is stone cold, my phone buzzes into life.
‘I had a good time this evening. Maybe grab a bite to eat next time if you fancied it? X’
I smile. There was something refreshingly down to earth about the guy. I felt like I knew where I was with him, which was never EVER the case with FFS. So I reply, sooner than I normally would, saying… I’d like that.