Walking up to meet my non tinder date, God I hope I recognize him.
Oh my… I was clearly hammered when we met. I remember him being much better looking than this. Fuck!
Hopefully he has something nice planned to detract from the awfulness of how this date is going to go.
We are not even at our date destination yet and I’m already mentally deciding that I’m only staying for an hour out of politeness. As he signals me into the pub for drinks, not just any pub, my local pub and the one where he works – Great! (more…)
Walking along in the brisk cold to meet my date, I feel I am channelling Bridget Jones as I strut through Borough Market and past the flat where she fictionally lived.
Seeing what I hope is my date, he looks a little different from his pictures but he is tall and gorgeous – a big step up from all the last car crashes!
Hearing my phone ring, I smile in delight as I answer, telling him to turn around.
WTF!?! That’s not my date. (more…)
It has recently come to my attention that I am a nameist – There I said it!
If I don’t like their name, I instantly swipe left regardless of how hot they are.
I realise I could be shooting myself catastrophically in the foot, but as my lovely friends kindly pointed out – Some men could be thinking the same thing when they see my name!
In truth, if I saw a good-looking guy at a bar and we got chatting, would his name matter as much? Probably not.
Has Tinder made us all a lot more shallow and picky? Yes.
So from now on, I shall be swiping right no matter what their name is…or at least attempting too!