Mr Snob and I began our very loving and committed Tinder relationship roughly 48 hours after I was dumped. I know what you're thinking..."DESPERATE!" And yes, this is possibly true but my heart was broken and I was in need of a little ego boost. Enter: Mr Snob.
Mr Snob was actually Mr Music before I met him, a result of his expansive and eclectic taste in... you got it... music. We had banter that could go on for hours. Seriously. I developed a terrible strain in my thumb from the obsessive texting that went on between us.
Lesson number one: Don't judge a manboy by his text banter.
We waited a good two weeks before meeting. I suggested a drink (always a safe option). He suggested dinner. We collectively decided on dinner AND drinks.
Lesson number two: Wait for date #2 before committing to dinner.
The day (a Wednesday, FYI) finally arrived. I was nervous. This was my first proper date in years. What if we had nothing to talk about? What if he didn't like me? What if they served mushrooms at dinner and I had to pretend I liked them so I didn't come off as a 'picky eater'?
Lesson number three: All your fears usually come true.
I was dressed in my favourite boho, casual-but-cute outfit. My chin pimple (chinple) was well hidden under expertly applied concealer. I had already calmed my nerves with a stiff glass of red wine. It was go time! My uber driver, Julio, really talked me down from the ledge. He even offered to take me back to his place for a cuppa if things didn't work out with Mr Music.
I arrived at the meeting place. Mr Music stood to greet me... dressed in a suit and tie. My heart immediately sunk. Seriously? A suit? Meanwhile, he looked me up and down and probably thought to himself: "This smelly hippy will never meet my mother."
He ordered me a cocktail and I downed it in 4.7 seconds. He looked on disapprovingly. I will never be able to effectively describe the bitter disappointment I saw in his EYE (the other one was lazy, I wasn't sure where to look) that night.
I chatted about what tapas to order. He made all of the final decisions (ladies don't order food, FYI) and proceeded to tell me about his dislike of people who order schnitzels ("There's so much more to life"). It was at this moment that I knew I had made a terrible mistake(#SchnittyForLife) and I resolved to get absolutely hammered on mojitos.
The drunker I became, the more uncomfortable I made him (can't imagine why). If I think really hard, I do remember suggesting we return to his house for a nightcap (girl's got needs) and him not so subtly turning me down ("No, that's not going to happen").
Dinner ended and he walked me to the uber I didn't remember ordering. He seriously couldn't get rid of me fast enough! Before I could say "Well I didn't really like you, either!", the car door was shut and my uber driver was taking me home.
And, just like that, my very committed and loving tinder relationship was over. I learnt perhaps the greatest lesson that night. Sometimes... rarely, but sometimes... I will not be someone's cup of tea, and that's okay! I'm looking for a coffee drinker, anyway.
This post was first published on Liv's blog.