What Do I Know?

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CC Image courtesy of Diamond Hoo Ha Man on FlickrIf an alien landed in London and stole my phone (it’s a big ‘if’ – I’ve got a budget Motorola) it would probably think my surname was Tinder and that I was really good at keeping in touch with my immediate family. It might also wonder why all these conversations reached fever pitch before coming to an abrupt end. It might not know how to operate a mobile phone.

After five Tinder dates in as many weeks I’ve learnt a few things:

  1. Meet. Your chemistry might be electric over text/Whatsapp but if you – or they – fail the acid test in person, that’s that.
  1. Meet on a week night. It’s much easier to curtail a mid-week date if you’re not feeling it…
  1. … which you probably won’t be. Keep your expectations low.
  1. Don’t contact your ex – especially not the one you met on Tinder – immediately after an underwhelming date. Actually don’t contact your ex, period.
  1. Split the tab, unless he absolutely insists. But otherwise, go Dutch. He’ll respect you for it and you won’t feel any guilt when there’s no follow-up. Plus, well, it’s the 21st century – why should the guy pay?
  1. You’ll decide pretty early on if the stranger who just said hello to you outside the tube station is someone you could kiss or get naked with. Whatever the verdict there is no polite way to get out of the ensuing date (see #2).
  1. After a run of average dates you might start to question your ability to know when you really like someone.

The day after date #5 I go dancing and run into an old, newly single acquaintance. He’s wearing turquoise and a broad grin and greets me like an old friend. I spend all of the next day hungover with this big dopey smile on my face.

Trust me, you’ll know.

CC Image courtesy of Pulpolux !!! on Flickr

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Hopeless Situation

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CC Image courtesy of ulterior epicure on FlickrThis has been going on for about three days when I decide to do the one thing which I know will stop it in its tracks.  I ask Flatmate.  Not ask so much as, tell him the situation and assure him that I know what he is about to say, but go on, spoil a girl.

‘Don’t read anything into it.’

‘No,’ I say.

‘He might get drunk and try it on.  He might want a one night thing…’

A girl can dream.

‘… but don’t hope.’

But – but – where there’s life, there’s hope.  Hope springs eternal in the human breast.  Hope is what gets me out of bed in the morning.  That and breakfast.

‘But…’ I begin.

How to phrase my next question without sounding hopeful?

‘Do – do you think… do you think there’s such a thing as wrong timing?  As in, can you like someone but it’s just not the right time?’

He looks thoughtful.  ‘I personally think, no, but…’

This is new.

‘… I know some people say there is.  I’ve heard girls say, ‘it’s not the right time’ or–.’

‘Have you ever heard a guy say that?’


‘Then, I’m not convinced.  If you say that, it means it’s not the right person or you don’t want to go out with them badly enough.’

‘I would agree,’ he says slowly, ‘but conceivably it could be that it’s not the right time, for whatever reason.  It might be you’re not ready for a relationship blah blah blah….’

This is worrying: the man’s starting to sound like me.  I tune back in for the reassuringly familiar conclusion.

‘… but yeah, don’t hope.’

CC Image courtesy of bomb_tea on Flickr