When It Goes… Well?

When I first had the idea of creating a blog about Tinder dates, I definitely knew some terrible, but hilarious stories were going to come out of it… but the first date I went on after deciding I would create this blog didn’t go as I expected.

I matched with John, a 24-year old college graduate who had just moved to Nashville for work and was trying to meet some new people. Based on his photos and bio, he definitely seemed like a stereotypical southern boy to me. Pictures from fishing trips, wearing a baseball cap in almost every picture, the works. Not gonna lie, I was sort of expecting a full-fledged redneck when we matched. After talking for a few days and determining that he probably wasn’t a creep… I enlisted my friend, Olivia, to chaperone our date just in case. The two of us went to Las Palma’s, a Mexican restaurant just outside of downtown Nashville. We grabbed dinner and double margaritas before John and one of his friends came to meet us for drinks.

After the first 5 minutes, I was already surprised to find out he wasn’t quite the southern hick I expected. He told me about his time in college as an industrial design major and his work designing parts for cars at his new job. He also let me bore him with my stories of sorority life and what not. The four of us had a pretty nice night if I do say so may self. There were no awkward lulls in conversation, in fact I can honestly say I had a lot of fun.

Near the end of our date, I noticed a few of my sorority sisters headed our way.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Is this a tinder date?” One of them joked.

“Actually yeah!” I responded. Poor John looked mortified as the two girls introduced themselves before leaving the restaurant. At this point I was fully accepting of the fact that this was probably going to happen to me a lot so I had no reason to be embarrassed. But I’ll admit, it was funny seeing the look on his face.

After going on the first date, I was like “Shit! Who is going to want to read a blog about a bunch of Tinder dates that went well?!” After this one, they all proceeded to be pretty terrible (to my relief…? I don’t know what I’m saying anymore), but I did learn that it is possible to have a good Tinder date. It just completely depends on the person and the situation as a whole. If you’re able to weave out all of the guys just looking for a hook-up, all of the ones that seem creepy, all of the weird ones, and all of the douche-y ones…. You’re probably going to be left with just 1 guy left; this one.

John and I continued to talk pretty regularly after this date. I even agreed to go on a second date. After that, somewhere along the way our schedules just had trouble matching up so we had a falling out, but sometimes that just happens and there’s not much anyone can do about it.

So “John”, if you’re reading this (which I know there’s a chance you might be) I really think you’re a great guy and I’m sorry things didn’t really work out. I hope we cross paths again one day.

“Gotta Love the Way You Love Yourself”

Once upon a time, I matched with Adam; a 24-year-old bassist in a small local rock band from a suburb of London, England. In all of his pictures it was very clear he was trying to emulate Matty Healy from The 1975. Leather jacket, black clothes, half-shaved head… he had the whole façade nailed… for those of you who don’t know who Matty Healy is, I have provided a visual below. I wish I could post a picture of this guy too because they looked so much alike it was frightening.

Matty Healy - The 1975
Matty Healy – The 1975

We decided to meet at a party a mutual friend was throwing, normally I wouldn’t go to something like that alone, but the host was a childhood friend of mine so I felt comfortable enough to make it happen just once. I arrived at the part and he was in the dinning area of the small apartment and he smiled as I approached him. He introduced himself and shook my hand. We got to talking and I asked him more about where he was originally from to which he explained that the town he was from is about 45 kilometers from London so he spent a lot of his time in the city. And later, he even tried to imitate an American accent and it sounded awful.

Eventually we somehow ended up on the topic of music. Anyone who knows me well enough knows that asking me my favorite band is just going to send me into a monologue about 1970s rock vs. alternative rock today vs. bad pop music… but he honestly seemed intrigued by the whole thing, at least more so than anyone else had ever been in the past. As it turned out, we had pretty similar tastes in music and I impressed him with my eclectic favorites. We even had a 15-minute debate about who was better: The Black Keys or Kings of Lion. And soon the question I was expecting emerged:

“Do you listen to The 1975 at all?”

I admitted that I did and I could see a resemblance between him and the front-man of the band. This sent him into a tangent about how well spoken and intellectually sound Matty Healy is and how more musicians should work to impact the lives of their fans like he does.Though I agreed to an extent, I was feeling like he was a bit more enthused than most people would be… but I let it slide because, in all honesty, we we’re having a nice conversation and was actually enjoying myself (who would have thought?!).

At some point we ended up ditching the party and just walking around outside the apartment complex for 2 hours to get away from all of the noise and enjoy the fresh air and just chat about life. Overall I wouldn’t have said this “date” (if you could even call it that) was bad. He was a charming guy, very intuitive, asked me questions that really made me think, and it would have gone perfectly… had it not been for what happened next.

As he answered a question about why he wanted to learn to play bass as a kid, I noticed the charming English accent he had been using the entire night fade into nothing.

“Wait say that again?” I asked, and he knew he had been found out.

“Say what again?” He slipped back into the accent seamlessly, but I knew the truth.

“Fess up, you’re American, aren’t you?”

So he confessed, he had really grown up in a small town in New Jersey and had never even been to the U.K. before. He was just so obsessed with Matty Healy that he felt more confident if he tried to match his Manchester-raised accent along with his overall aesthetic. I was honest with him; I told him that I thought that entire idea sounded a bit idiotic and he shouldn’t try to be like someone else just because he thinks girls will like him more that way.

As much as he probably wasn’t looking for life advice and the fact that he was probably mortified from the slip up and wanted to get out of there like crazy, I told him what I thought and let him go back to his life.

So Adam, if you’re still dressing like that and faking accents, I’m a bit embarrassed for you and think you need to figure out who you are as a person. No one wants to date someone who’s so insecure in their own life that they lie about who they are. You need to create your own identity and not be so reliant on someone else’s.

The Trust Fund Baby

So a few weeks back I matched with Vince; a 23-year-old Vanderbilt graduate from Northern California. He sounded pretty promising on paper; but let me tell you, that was not the case in reality.

So after about 2 days of back and forth he asked me out to drinks on a Thursday night. He picked me up outside of the gate at my apartment complex in a brand new BMW.

“Sorry my Porsche is in the shop, girls usually like that more” he said before even greeting me. I laughed, assuming it was a joke… but he didn’t even crack a smile. OK, I thought. Clearly off to a great start. We drove about 10 minutes to Bar Louie in one of my favorite parts of Nashville. The hostess found us a table right away and the waitress appeared soon after.

“Can I get y’all started with some drinks?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll have a Manhattan and she’ll have White Nectar” he responded before I could even take a breath. Clearly he’s been around the block a time or two.

“Wow, thanks for ordering for me, saved me the trouble of looking at the menu.” The sarcasm stung my own lips on the way out.

“You’ll like it, don’t worry” he assured me.

So I let it slide and proceeded to ask him about himself and he started blabbering on and on about how his family comes from old money and that he’ll basically never have to work a day in his life and he doesn’t intend to and how he’s sitting on a $2 million dollar trust fund. He spent 20 minutes giving me a history lesson on his family tree in while I tried not to fall asleep. I get it, your family has a long line of wealth, let’s move on. I’ll admit, I come from a well off family, not nearly to this level, but that’s not something I would ever brag about. Yet this guy continued to ramble for what felt like an eternity before I found a way to shift topics a bit. I asked him what he plans to do with this time since he doesn’t intend to work. His response was that he didn’t really have a plan and he intended to just go wherever life takes him. Let me tell you, for me, there’s no bigger turn off than lack of ambition… not that I wasn’t already turned off by the date as a whole up to this point. Again, I let it slide and continued to be the kind and open-minded person that I think I am … until a group of four guys headed our way about 45 minutes into the date. 

Turns out they were his golf buddies that he was intending to meet up with after our date. After about 15 minutes of endless talk about God knows what with team pretentious, I insisted on leaving. Vince tried to convince me to stay, but I could think of about a million things I would rather do, among them was watching the grass grow and maybe even starting the seven-page International Entrepreneurship paper I had due the following week. He seemed a little hesitant to leave his seat… and then this comes out of his mouth:

“Alright, well why don’t I call you an Uber then?” Couldn’t even sacrifice 20 more minutes of his time with his precious golf buddies to drive me home. 

“I can just call on myself, it’s fine.”

“No, I insist!” He tried to sound like he was doing me a favor.

So the Uber showed up about 5 minutes later and Vince wanted to show me just what a gentleman he was by walking me out to the car. He opened the door to the car for me and tried to lean in to kiss me, but I hardcore shut it down by jumping into the car as fast as I could. Little does he know I took that Uber through the Cook Out drive-thru on the way home to make sure to up the cost, not that this trust fund baby would even notice. 
 
I’ll admit, I was never expecting too much from this date. I know they always say don’t judge a book by its cover, but so far, Tinder has proved that people tend to be what you think they are. Take this guy for instance; his first picture was a shirtless gym picture, the second one was him with some friends at a club… pretty much just radiating “douchebag” potential as I swiped though. Setting the bar pretty high for world’s worst dates. 

So Vince, if you ever see this, thanks for taking the hint and not calling me after this dreadful evening. I appreciate not having to make up an excuse why I’m too busy to go out with you again.

The First Disaster

This experiment was inspired by the only Tinder date I had ever been on prior to starting this blog:

Flashback to May 2015; I was a college sophomore and an avid Tinder user, but always wimped out before actually meeting anyone. I had been chatting with James on Tinder for days now, so naturally he invited me to hang out. But there was a catch. Apparently, he lived 30 minutes away without a car. So clearly, we’re off to a great start. I agreed to pick him up at his place, trying to keep an open mind, not that I was taking any of this too seriously.

I pulled up to the apartment and texted him to let him know that I was outside– to which he responded by insisting I come up to see his puppy. He might as well have just offered me candy to get inside of his white windowless van. Against my best judgment, I hesitantly parked my car and headed up like a little kid craving M&M’s. As he opened the door, I was greeted by a hyper puppy who immediately peed all over my shoes. Ew. I mean, he apologized, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but still. Gross.

We decided to go to Centennial Park, which happens to be right next to my apartment. So that’s 30 minutes there, and then 30 minutes back. Cool. Upon getting out of the car at Centennial, he started with what he must have thought was a great ice breaker: “Yeah, so I’m gonna be honest with you, I’m dealing with some court stuff right now because of some shit with my previous girlfriend, but I swear, she hit me first.” I wanted to run right then and there, but at this point, being as I had driven him all the way there I didn’t know how, so I just tried to keep a safe distance between us. We walked around the park, awkwardly talking before both deciding to diffuse the discomfort with pizza.

By the end of the date, here’s what I knew about this kid: He was a 21-year-old college drop-out with no job (looks promising already, right?) whose humor was equivalent to that of a first grader with a potty mouth. He insisted on calling me “butt-part” for half of the date because I part my hair down the middle, instead of off to the side. I’m not even kidding. Remember how they tried to tell you that boys who called you names did it because they liked you? Didn’t work in first grade, doesn’t work now. So I somehow endured an entire meal with this guy, trying to be polite and seem interested, but feeling like he only had negative things to add to the conversation. Here comes the best part: he made me pay for his meal. That’s right, I actually had to pay for his meal because like I said, no job. “I’ll pay next time, I promise!” he said when I begrudgingly pulled out my wallet. “lol, next time…” I thought, knowing that there was no way in hell there would be a next time.

Don’t forget, this guy still has to get home somehow as he doesn’t have a car– clearly, I pick winners. Like I said, this is a 30 minute car ride. To pass the time, I made awkward attempts at small talk while trying not to look annoyed every time he blew e-cigarette vapor in my face. When we FINALLY made it back, he insisted yet again that I come up to his apartment this time to MEET HIS PARENTS (you really can’t make this stuff up). Like, was he TRYING to scare me off? But I heard myself agree, and cautiously walked up the stairs to his apartment. As I walked in, I was greeted by a man and woman covered head to toe in tattoos who, at one point, actually admitted that “The last time he brought a girl over we never saw her again!” (I wonder why…) and a 6-year-old who enthusiastically kept talking about how he couldn’t wait to show me the video game he was about to get the next time I came over. Sorry, not going to happen.

After this train-wreck of a date I avoided him like the plague, which was harder than it sounds because he was a very clingy texter. He would actually panic if I didn’t text him back within 5 minutes. In the end, I told him that I was moving back home to California because A, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I never wanted to see him again and B, seeing as how he hit his last girlfriend I’m not gonna lie, I wanted there to be as much imaginary distance between us as possible.

And James, if by some freak chance you reading this and you know it’s about you (and how could you not?), I would like my money back for the food I bought you and for hauling your ass around town all day. Gas is expensive, pay up.

Welcome to Swipes & the City!

Does it ever feel like dating life is impossible to get a handle on? One minute you’re excited and have butterflies in your stomach and the next you’re confused about the whole situation. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of the back and forth in every scenario. I’m excited to take you along for the ride during my trip down the proverbial rabbit hole that is Tinder and twenty-something dating culture. At least in my experience in this generation, dating life thrives on social media; whether it’s  Facebook, Snapchat, Tinder, or a slew of other sites and apps created to make social connections. It’s so difficult to meet people organically, even on a college campus, so I think it might be time to try a new approach, just for fun. So I’m taking to Tinder to forget about the basics and add a little spice to dating life. Whether this is a good decision or a terrible one is to be determined, but I’m excited to dive in and come back with some stories to tell.

*All stories are true, but names have been changed to protect the innocent and, well…not so innocent.