Tag Archives: Tinder

eHarmony, the Irish, and Tinder

28 May

I was supposed to go on a date on Sunday. He cancelled on me. This is probably no bad thing since he was from the same part of Ireland as my ex, and had almost exactly the same job. Hmmmm. Anyway, I was almost relieved that he cancelled. He had apparently met someone else. My only issue is that he cancelled with only a few hours to go, and had I known I could have gone to Ikea that morning and bought boxes to help me sort out my flat a little. Well, maybe I have one other issue. But it’s not with Irish Four. It’s with eHarmony.

eHarmony. The root of all my problems. Had I never met my ex, I would never have had to go through this cycle of love and grief and pain. Admittedly, I chose to rejoin following the pizza of doom. But why eHarmony insists on matching me with endless Irish men who work in finance is beyond me. Although I’m thankful for the introduction to Irish Two who has turned out to be a strange but special friend.

Instead, I’ve now joined Tinder.

I’d heard horror stories of guys sending penis selfies, and messages that amount to sexual harassment. But, so far, it’s been good, clean, fun. And 154 matches is a nice little ego boost. The people are way less intense than on eHarmony. And they seem to have better chat. I also like the fact that they are forced to write their own script rather than resort to sending me screening questions or (worst of all) ‘Must Haves and Can’t Stands’. I have to ask eHarmony whether they have any cases of people who actually self-screen against these. Imagine. Imagine thinking, “Oh well, he looked hot and we seemed to have loads in common, but unfortunately I have poor personal hygiene, terrible manners, I lie, I cheat, and I’m a massive racist.” Seriously.

(To clarify, I take personal hygiene very seriously, I have beautiful manners, I hardly ever lie, I’ve never cheated, and I have no bad feelings towards any races (even the fricking Irish).)

So Tinder it is. And tonight is my first Tinder date.

I’m impressed already as he’s booked a table for cocktails at a nice bar in East London. Oh, and he’s not Irish.

Paws crossed.

Nine good things about being single in your thirties

17 May

marquee number - 9

So, I’m on my way home from Florida. Which is sad news. But I’m sipping a Bloody Mary in the business class lounge. Which is good news.

In the past nine months, since finding myself single, I’ve tried very hard to find some positives in being all alone in my thirties. It hasn’t been easy. But since it’s nine months since the pizza of doom and all, I’ve made a little list of nine good things about being single when everyone around you is married and producing children.

Here we go:

1. Flying business class. Why not treat yourself? You have nobody else to pay for. Let me tell you, skipping all those lines for check in and security, swanning through to the lounge and pouring yourself a drink… it’s nice. Really nice.

2. Flowers. Buying yourself flowers means that you always get the ones you want. In May, that means peonies. In fact, buying yourself flowers means that you always get flowers. I don’t care what kind of flowers. I like having them.

3. Tinder. This is new to me, but hilarious and thrilling all at once. I’ve been playing while in Florida. I can’t meet any of the guys, but it’s still fun. And what an ego boost.

4. Garlic. Eat as much as you like. Nobody cares.

5. Sex And The City takes on a new level of relevance. I’m going to watch the whole thing again when I get home. Now I actually understand.

6. If you want to eat nothing but olives for dinner, you totally can. Same is true of Maltesers. There’s nobody to tell you to eat like an adult, or watch your sugar intake.

7. You join some pretty great company of other hot to women who have been single in their thirties. “Who on earth?” I hear you ask. Well, Cameron Diaz, Jennifer Anniston, Sandra Bullock.

8. Let’s be frank. While in the summer months you do need to shave your legs, there are other body parts that you can pretty much disregard from the grooming routine for a while. Some of the trickiest of body parts, in fact. Some of the most painful to take care of.

9. You can plan your next holiday as soon as you’re done with the one you’re on. Or even before. I’m so ready to come back to Florida in a few months, and there’s nobody to get in the way of my plans or that sunshine.

Now, you all know as well as I do that all I want is someone to love. Someone to love me. And yes, of course, a cuddle can be worth a lot more than a Sex And The City marathon, while eating garlic olives for dinner, on a business class flight, to go on holiday, not having touched my bikini line for weeks, safe in the knowledge that I am just like Cameron fricking Diaz (although I can’t confirm her bikini line routine), and there are beautiful peonies sitting on my window ledge at home. But I gotta find some reasons to smile. It’s not a bad start.