…well, I thought I had. Obviously, I had not (silly Sophie). As is the theme of this much-neglected blog, the entire ordeal turned into a masterpiece of humiliation that I will share with you now.
If you’ve ever read this blog before, you’ll know that I spend a lot of time on Tinder. Like, so much time that Tinder should be sponsoring my travels.
The thing I love most about dating apps is that you know where you stand. Someone has looked at a few pictures of your face, read your bio, and decided that they might like to do some heavy petting with you. The first date is clearly a date because you met on a dating app. Simple. You know you’re trying each other out to see if there’s an actual attraction in real life.
Because of that magical simplicity, it’s really easy to be upfront about whether or not you fancy the other person. I feel very confident in asking for a second date, or telling them I think they’re cute, or sending the “I just didn’t feel a connection” text.
You pretty much always know where you stand. It’s almost transactional. No messing about. Bish bash bosh. Next.
AND I LOVE IT.
The only issue with becoming a world-renowned Tinder expert is that you forget how to deal with the intricacies of falling for people that you meet in real life. And that’s what I’m talking about today.
My first meet-cute
If you don’t know, a meet-cute is a charming encounter that leads to a romantic relationship. And I thought I was having one on a morning many moons ago (it’s taken me a while to get around to writing this).
There was a power cut in my town so I headed to a coffee shop with a generator to get some work done. It was v hot that day and no power meant no AC. So I was sweatinggggg. I was also heading to my first ever pole dancing class that morning so was wearing old, gross workout clothes. Anyway, I went to this coffee shop and it turned out that everyone had had the same idea and it was packed. I found a table and settled down to some half-arsed writing while a steady stream of sweat ran into my eyes. Then, this beautiful man interrupted my mindless tab-clicking to ask if he could share my table. As casually as I could (not casually at all) I said “yeah, sure” while trying to wipe away the salty droplets running down my face and body.
We ended up chatting for most of the morning until I had to run off to my pole class, and as I get up to leave he asked if he could have my details.
I WAS LIKE YES SOPHIE YOU’RE KILLING IT EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE A LITERAL HOT MESS
I gave him my Insta and set about posting thirst traps for the rest of the day.
Am I on a date or not?
I can’t really remember the exact details of what happened next as it was bloody ages ago, but that doesn’t matter. Basically, we kept bumping into each other around town and I liked it. The conversations seemed flirty, he complimented me loads (my big brain and my cute exterior), and I felt like there was a bit of a connection.
Then, we finally made an actual plan to hang out. A sunset walk on the beach followed by dinner. I agonised over whether it was a date or simply a ‘hang’ and when I chatted to my mates about it they weren’t certain either. So I decided to turn up looking proper sexy just in case. The afternoon was fun and lovely and definitely felt flirty again, but there was zero body language to let me know he was into me.
You know when you tell yourself lies? I told myself that he was probably just shy despite there being not one shred of evidence to support that theory. Deep down, I knew that it wasn’t a date and that he hadn’t been turned on by the sweat in my eyes when we first met. But I chose to ignore that fact and started planning our wedding in my head (joking, chill out).
The things that happen when Sophie drinks rum
After that meeting, nothing really happened. We bumped into each other a few more times, went on a few more beach walks, and that was it. I gave myself a little talking to, concluded that my one-sided crush was done with, and that was that.
Until a food festival a couple of weeks later.
I was with some friends, I’d had 100 cocktails, and I bumped into him. We had a little chat then went our separate ways and everything was fine. Until it wasn’t.
I went on to drink 100 more cocktails before rolling into bed. With my phone. Which I picked up and used to send the following message (know that I’m cringing so hard right now that my face may turn inside out): “I’m sure you’ve already figured this out because it’s obvious. I have a major crush on you”.
His response? He basically just said, “yes, I know”.
You can imagine how pleased I was with myself when I woke up in the morning and realised I’d sent that message. For the umpteenth time in the past 12 months, I seriously considered swimming to China in a bid to escape my self-made humiliation.
It got worse
About a week after the drunk text happened we went into a six-week lockdown. Now, I’m obviously not saying that I’m glad covid is happening or that any of us weren’t able to go outside for six weeks, but I definitely was quite happy that I wouldn’t bump into the dude for a while. Time’s a healer and all that.
Post-lockdown, I went to a coffee shop to do some work. A little while after I arrived, he strolled in. Enough time had passed for me to not want to die of shame, so he sat next to me, we had a chat, then we cracked on with work. All was well.
And then all of a sudden it wasn’t well at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.
A v pretty lady strolled in, greeted my crush, and sat next to him. They chatted a bit then started fully snogging while I sat next to them like a fucking lemon. I did my best impression of someone who hadn’t noticed the heavy petting going on an inch away from my face, but my guess is that I wasn’t fooling anybody.
So yeah, I’m solidly back on Tinder now. Never again will I attempt an organic happening. Turns out, I’ve got a lot more game behind the safety of my phone screen.
Wanna read other tales of how shit I am at dating?