In an attempt to turn my table for one into a table for two, I’ve been going wild on Tinder in Mexico. This is no surprise to anyone going by my track record of Tinder and travelling, I’m sure.
But, it’s mostly been shit and I’m not having much success. This is probably no surprise to anyone, either.
I have three dates to tell you about…
On my second night here I took myself out for a solo dinner. It was Saturday night and everyone else in my chosen taco joint was either on a date or with groups of friends, but I didn’t really care: it was nice to smash some Mexican food into my mouth without an audience. But then a Tinder dude messaged and asked if I wanted to have a beer together, and I said yes because why not. He arrived and was cool: he was a Venezuelan skydiving instructor and ex-pro athlete (I’m glad Señor Sporty hadn’t seen how many tacos al pastor I’d just eaten, but I think the salsa stain on my top was a bit of a giveaway).
We chatted for a bit then went to another bar for more cervezas, and the topic of age came up. I knew he was older than me because he didn’t have his age on Tinder and that obvs means he’s trying to hide it, but it turns out he was 47. I didn’t actually care about that – despite my insecurities about my own age I don’t give a shit about anybody else’s – it was when he revealed that he had a 20-year-old son that I felt VERY strange. His child is closer to my age than he is. Is that a bit odd? It feels it. So, that was the end of that.
Four days later I went on another first date with another Tinder dude. His bio simply said ‘Mexican Badass’, so I should’ve known that he was a dickhead, but I still went to meet him because he’s a Latino tattoo artist and anyone who’s ever met me knows that this is my exact type. He turned up 20 minutes late, as is the norm here, and when he did he sort of ignored me. He’d chosen our meeting place and it seemed that he knew everyone in the bar because he spent the first ten minutes greeting people. So, technically, he was 30 minutes late by the time he’d sat down. And when he finally did, I wished that he hadn’t.
He asked me about three questions then immediately invited a very drunk and generally awful friend over to sit with us. They then proceeded to speak super-fast Spanish whilst simultaneously checking out other girls as they walked by. I’m no mug, so I finished my beer, slammed down some pesos and said adios to the vile man that I’d wasted an hour of my life on. When I got up to leave he was so shocked, and was all “baby let’s go dancing”. No gracias, tosspot.
This one was a lot less shit, and is sort of the happy ending to this terrible Tinder tale. Date number three was a tour guide/dive instructor/all-round sexy babe, and on our first date, we went for some Saturday afternoon cervezas. It was a lot of fun: he was smart, funny, polite, and when it was time to leave he walked me to my door and did real good kissing on me. It was such a good first date, in fact, that he came to hang out with me and my friends later that night for date 1 1/2.
Date number two was Monday night mezcals. Again, we laughed a lot and kissed a lot, and it was mucho fun. The night got kind of bizarre in a way that can only happen post-mezcal. I won’t go into too much detail, but at one point I was wearing a wetsuit (we weren’t anywhere near a body of water at the time).
Who knows what weirdness date number three will hold, but I’m excited to find out.