Tinder Stories – I Got A Boyfriend

Yes, you read that correctly. 

I, Seren, got a boyfriend and it was nothing like I expected.

You see when you have been single for three years – you are very used to doing things on your own.

You handle life and everything it throws at you. From stress to health problems. Even just having to keep on top of life duties by yourself is exhausting. If you know me you’ll know that I hate, with more passion than you can imagine, folding my washing.

But listen, you can’t sleep next to a pile of laundry when you have your boyfriend coming over for the night.

At times I thought I didn’t have space for a partner. There were so many moving parts of my life that I knew it would be hard to find a man who could keep up.

It got to the point that I wrote in my Hinge profile “I am looking for a man who can keep up”.

If you pick my lane we are going fast and not slowing down.

But he changed everything. He asked me if we were going fast enough together.

Getting a boyfriend was far more soppy than I thought it would be. Quietly the world changed and it took more than a long hot second for it to sink in.

I think I said “what the fuck” about 23 times when we became offical.

You see, I spent so long processing how it feels when it doesn’t work out that I had no idea what it would feel like if it did work out. 

It was safe to say I was completely overwhelmed.

There were things that I actually never thought about till I had a boyfriend.

Because at one point or another I never thought I would get there.

I chose to share my private life with you all on here. My tales of trying to find someone to call my partner and now I have one.

Yes this dumb dumb did it. Who would have bloody thought?!

Clearly not me. Which is kinda sad actually.

I have always stated that whilst I write these very funny and shocking stories, I do intend to write my success story.

So often I get asked if I go on dates to just be able to write stories, but that is never the case. I go on dates because I want a relationship.

You see I want to write the story of how I met him, our first date, when things just fell into place. I have always wanted to give you guys a happy ending.

You have been there with me, along for the ride, every step of the shitty date way.

But now it was real life, there is another person. Him. My boyfriend. Would he want to be known to the public from the blog? Would he be comfortable with the fact that I wanted to write all about him over the internet?

It’s beginning to sound like I am famous or something which I am most definitely not.

I just knew that changing my relationship status would absolutely cause a ruckus because I have been writing about my single life for so long.

We were officially together for a week when my father asked ever so nicely but in true boomer fashion “why isn’t it Facebook official?”.

Because y’all are a curious bunch and this sort of ‘announcement’ needs to be agreed upon. I had to have a very awkward but frank conversation about taking our private lives public. In short we decided to keep our socials on lock so we could just feel it out.

After all, the blog has never been in real time.

So congratulations to me, the dating apps finally worked.

Here I am, publicly announcing it.

I, Seren Powell-Jones, am a taken woman.

Yup, who would have thought. I was being introduced as his girlfriend and well honestly, it was a dream.

I finally had my person and they had me. It was a really nice feeling. A feeling I had spent a long time waiting for.

When we first started dating he was only going to be in the country for 6 more weeks. He said, and I quote, “I am looking to date but I am not looking for a relationship as I am leaving”.

But why was he on a date with me if hes leaving so soon?

He loves to eat out, having company and great conversation.

Whilst it was a gutting moment, ever the optimist I wondered.

What if we fake dated for six weeks.

What if I dated him like an experiment and get as close as I can to figuring out what I really like in a partner and what I can’t stand? Either way he’s leaving to another country and well, then I will have obtained all this information for my future endeavours.

So the plan was hatched between us. He wanted to experience some of Auckland’s top restaurants, I, a woman who lived and breathed fine dining for two and a half years, would educate him. In turn I would live my best life and really enjoy the act of proper conversation. It was a win win.

In that time we experienced four top restaurants, many drinks and he stood by my side at events and parties. It was a stunning match where we both played the part for each other.

But then we had a small pandemic and he was delayed in leaving. In fact that happened four fucking times.

During this time I was strung along for the ride holding on to the fact that maybe it would work out.

Yeah. I am a dumb dumb.

However, after every hurdle that we faced and climbed over, we would always find ourselves back at square one.

We tried pseudo dating.

Don’t bother.

We tried just being friends.

Stupid idea.

We tried just being friends with benefits with clear lines in the sand.

You too can laugh at that one.

I even called the entire thing off and cried for three weeks.

But nothing stuck.

Drawn to each other, like stupid fucking magnets.

Stuck in the same country, in the same city, where we had absolutely fallen for each other.

We were 8 months down the track when reality found us.

That is because he was now actually going to leave. For real this time.

Not that the other times weren’t real, but this was different because we were post pandemic.

Things were more certain.

There I was finally standing in front of a man who had the capacity to love me and he was leaving the country. I was helpless because there was nothing I could do.

He had three months till he was due to leave.

And there is nothing like a countdown to having your heart broken to push you to throw all caution into the wind.

So I yeeted all caution to the wind.

Poof, gone.

It got to the point that I said to him, I would rather have an actual boyfriend for three months and then watch you leave. Rather than to be stuck in this limbo of purgatory of thinking “what would it have been like if it had worked out?”.

After all, he said we were perfect together. That we clicked like you wouldn’t believe.

But then, because there is always a ‘but’.

Which is when he took this moment to remind me what he said on our second date. “I am looking to date, but I am not looking for a relationship as I am leaving”. 

But things are different now and way more complicated. I kept asking myself, what happened? How did we get to this point? Did I miss when he reminded me time and time again that he didn’t want a relationship?

Did he say something to me when we went on day trips? When we were staying at each other’s houses four nights a week? When he picked me up from work because I was too sick to drive? When he sent a photo of us to his parents? Did he say it before or after “I love you”?

No Seren, you dumb dumb.

He had never reminded you.

We had fallen for each other, head over heels love.

So I challenged him on his thoughts of not being in a relationship. All he could say was “it’s not you, it’s me, I don’t know why I don’t want to be in one”. And like the stubborn and stupid human I am, I wouldn’t accept that answer. After everything I thought I was owed an answer to why.

We walked away from that conversation with less clarity on what we were going to do for the next three months and more emotions on the table than before.

God dammit I almost screamed “if you love me then love me”.

And then before we could recover from exploding with emotions his boss called him and threw yet another curve ball.

For the 5th time, he had his life turned on his head. His boss called told him “sorry but you are to stay here in New Zealand, in Auckland”.

He took it all in his stride, water off a ducks back. I took that news like I had just been slapped in the face by a seagull.

He is no longer going overseas. The pandemic was going through its second wave in many countries and it was too risky to send him.

As soppy as it sounds we had experienced the universe giving us more time and now after so many setbacks he was no longer leaving the country.

He was staying and it was going to be permanent.

We could actually have a happy ever after.

He stood in front of me and told me about all the things hes excited for now he is staying.

The topic of ‘us’ wasn’t on that list.

Honestly I felt like an after thought and when I brought it up, he told me that he needed to think about things. Because he thought he was broken because he didn’t want to be with me.

I said he can have time and no matter what I will always be here to talk to him and hear him out.

But I knew he would friend zone me.

Because if you are not all in, you are all out.

Being an afterthought isn’t my vibe.

The only thing that was clear was that he and I don’t work as friends. I don’t even know what a friendship between us would look like.

About a week later he messaged me.

He had just moved into a house he had bought.

In the seven days that had passed, I had made peace with the idea that he would never chose me. That despite being a picture perfect match he was about to crush the last tiny bit of my heart that seemed to love him so much.

He invited me to come round to celebrate with a bunch of his friends and family.

Yes, I was going to meet his parents for the first time and they knew exactly who I was.

He had proudly sent photos of us to them after one of our dinner dates.

I’d just like to take a moment and ask what the actual fuck is the logic here?

Why would I go?

Because I knew it was ending and I wanted to walk away knowing I did absolutely everything I could. That me turning up meant I never wavered on the idea of being by his side.

If you need to know anything about me, it’s that I need closure.

It’s my biggest downfall.

So I was going for closure.

But not the pretend type where you fuck your ex for closure.

Rather the ‘ah yes, this is what your happy ending looks like and I definitely do not fit here’.

But good to know you will be happy, I can take peace in that knowledge.

I said I would only come if I could bring a friend, I also had an early start the next day and we cannot stay late. Always have an escape route.

How hypocritical of me.

Him and I found ourselves sitting watching everyone eat and getting to know each other when he said we should properly have a chat at some point.

I said now’s good for me.

Why? Because I am not going to waste any more time on a guy who clearly cannot figure his romantic life out, but can buy a house in Auckland.

He was shocked and turned to me, putting down his dinner plate.

“I have been thinking Seren”

From his tone, his body language and the fact that I had been left on read for a week, I knew this is where it was going to end.

As he was talking I was mentally disassociating.

In fact I was counting how many steps it would take to reach the fridge and pick up my drinks, nodding at my friend to indicate it was time to go and then ordering an Uber and counting the steps out the front door and down the driveway when he said “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend”.

“Sorry, can you say that again? What did you just say?”

He now had tears streaming down his face, he was turning away from the party so no one would see.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, it makes sense, I love you Seren.”

I grabbed his hands and said “I love you too and yes I will be your girlfriend”.

I spent a long time waiting for this moment. But I never dreamed it would be like this.

Especially when I thought I was about to be friend zoned.

It was like being back handed by the same seagull again.

Kissing him on the cheek and wiping away the tears he pulled me into a hug and, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, the world had come into focus and things were finally going my way.

That night, even now feels hazy. I can still hear him introducing me to his friends as “this is Seren, my girlfriend”.

I excused myself to the bathroom and pulled out my phone. I took a deep breath and went onto my Hinge profile where we matched and deleted my account.

Taking a screenshot of this momentous moment in the hopes that I would get to share with you all. A very small but mighty victory of overcoming the algorithms and finding love.

I deleted the app off my home screen and came back out to the party.

To my partner who kissed me on my forehead and asked me if I was going okay.

This dumb dumb was for once was okay.

Then he broke up with me a month later.

Yup, you read that completely right.

He broke up with me in my bedroom on a Sunday morning.

Only after he slept with me.

Like the absolute gentleman he was. 

I can’t believe this is even our story.

He had confessed the night before that whilst he is unbelievably happy when he is with me, he is just not happy in a relationship. We talked for hours about changing the way we communicate, doing things differently, taking a whole different course to this relationship thing.

In the end, I had to spell it out for him by asking him if it was over.

Because he couldn’t spit it out.

He didn’t cry because he was sad. He cried because I was sobbing.

He was just about to leave my house, when he said I need to remember to take care of myself and that he needs to hear from me soon.

That he needs me to be his friend.

Because we were best friends.

But I said I need an unknown amount of time before we can even approach that. I can’t be his friend right now, it’s too painful. I had barely stopped crying.

He said he would always be there for me and if I needed anything I should just ask.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry till I dissolved or scream into the wind and fly to a different country. That tiny fragment of my heart that had finally started to regrow was now obliterated.

I was blindsided and utterly exhausted.

Whilst I stared at the man who is now my ex, I then realised I had to be at brunch in 10 minutes.

The world really doesn’t stop when you have your heart trampled.

Fuck me.

Honestly.

I am such a dumb dumb for ever thinking it was going to work out.

But also where are my sunglasses because I look incredibly sad and can’t face the world like this.

I could have canceled. But how do you construct a message about your boyfriend of just a month breaking up with you?

It’s fucking embarrassing.

I was embarrassed for being proud of my relationship. I felt like I was an oversight, a decision that was made in haste. That he just wanted to give me what I wanted and then immediately regretted it.

Which I can assure you does amazing things for your self esteem.

Two weeks later I still hadn’t spoken to him because I was still crying on my way home from work everyday. RIP to anyone who made eye contact with me at the traffic lights. In my head I was wondering how he was going with work and if he had done any more work on the house.

He watched every single Instagram story I posted and I thought a lot about the day when it would not hurt to think about him and the time we spent together.

During a catch up with a friend that weekend, who is also a reader of the blog, she asked me when this had all happened.

I explained the dates when she said “I really don’t know how to tell you this…”

She said she turmoiled over telling me because it might be nothing. She had taken screen shots and then deleted them because pulling all of this up is clearly painful to me.

I had finally managed to stop crying. An accomplishment I tell you.

But there are no secrets in my friend group. Even if they will hurt you.

She said that three weeks ago he came up on her dating app. Three weeks ago was when we were still very much together.

In a committed relationship.

To each other.

She thought it might be one of those cases where people’s profiles come up but they don’t use them.

That’s where I stopped her.

I had moved off Tinder, off Bumble and all the way to Hinge because of their algorithm. It only ever showed you people who had used their profile in the last 72 hours. That’s how they ensure you get more matches.

Go and google it if you don’t believe me.

That night he asked me to be his girlfriend in his bathroom. I deleted my profile that had been inactive for 9 months.

My boyfriend, the guy I was in love with, the person I finally chose to be with.

To stand by my side and be so incredibly proud of.

The person I really thought I could write the success story about to people who live in over 100 countries and allow me to close the chapter on Tinder Stories.

The man who said he would take a bullet for me and would seriously consider putting a knee in the dirt for me.

I shit you not, he said that to me.

Was discovered by a reader to still be active on a dating app whilst we were very much officially together.

I wish I was making this up.

That it wasn’t true and I could write something else.

But this is the truth.

The heart wrenching, very harsh reality of dating.

I found out and thought about confronting him.

But what is that going to achieve Seren?

We can never be together.

We can never be friends.

There is absolutely nothing left to fight for or save.

Maybe me three years ago would have popped off.

But Ive learnt that doesn’t need to happen.

So to this day he has no idea that this dumb dumb knows the whole truth.

I was head over heels, madly truely in love with a man who turned out to be a dud.

For the record he will never get a name.

Not even a fake name.

There is no excuse in the entire world that could ever allow him to crawl out of the bin I have put him in.

Please note that this bin is on fire.

And even if we take away the active dating profile, which really is the kicker here.

I dated a guy for ten months only to have him waste my time, leave me single and now with a super spicy amount of defensiveness.

Don’t love that for me.

The final thing to note is he read the entire blog and quoted it to me on our very first date.

I am almost certain he’s reading this one.

Tinder Stories – It Was Bound To Happen

When you have been in the game as long as I have.

Which is probably the wrong way to put it.

So lets rephrase and go with – when you have dated as MANY people as I have you are bound to have cross over.

Now let me take you back in time, yes all the way back to three years ago when I started dating.

Y’all remember the first ever blog post about Tinder I wrote? If you don’t and you are new here you gotta go and read this little beauty.

Yes, I did actually run away from a man who was naked.

So fast forward and I am back on the dating apps.

I was off them for some time but that story is for another day.

Swiping away I end up matching and chatting to a guy who we shall call Wyatt and he always put ‘x’s’ on the end of his messages.

Babe we barely know each other and my best friend doesn’t even get kisses on the end of messages unless I am being a sarcastic bitch.

So every single time I am reading Wyatt’s messages its coming across in a sarcastic tone.

Things I can overlook.

He asks me if we can move off this dating site and onto socials which is really where this story takes a turn.

I have a public profile because I promote the blog on it but Wyatt has a private Instagram.

He follows me and I have to follow request him, knowing full well he is deep in my archives.

Because he tells me my own statistics e.g how many posts I have.

Ick.

Moving on.

We are messaging and setting up to meet in person for a drink.

He asks if Thursday next week works for me (keep in mind it is the Tuesday previous).

I agree and we keep talking about where we should go.

It was at this moment when he accepts my request and I go look at his profile.

Casually scrolling I see that its very curated.

These were definitely taking by women and the comments under his photos go to prove it.

Scrolling some more and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

God has chosen to smite me hasn’t he?

In a photo is Wyatt and Max.

You know Max, I ran away from.

When he was naked and I told him to leave the front door unlocked.

Keep scrolling.

Then another.

Then another one.

There are many.

They are like best friends or something.

Fuck. Me.

Ugh.

They have been to international destinations together.

Its best friend content.

So I am faced with the moral dilemma that this guy seems really lovely but is best friends with a man I ran away from and then blocked.

He’s best friends with a man who said “come here” to me like a fucking dog.

If you date someone you also date their friends and there would a horrible moment I was envisioning when I get introduced and Max and I lock eyes and we both know what happened.

That is some reality TV stuff right there.

And so I am left pondering if I tell Wyatt or not?

Then the weekend rolls around and he leaves me on seen.

Bad move.

Am I bothered?

No.

In my personal experience do I think he has gotten cold feet and/or is a fuck boy?

Yes.

Did he show my profile to Max and I shall forever be left of seen?

I don’t know but that is the conclusion I come to and move on with my life.

Wyatt comes back to me late Monday evening to which his response was that he was busy with a weekend and was hungover.

If I am hungover I am clutching my phone because it is my life line to uber eats and my friends telling me that we will not die like this.

Do I accept his excuse for leaving me on seen?

No.

He asks me if we are still up for drinks on Thursday.

“I actually thought you dropped off the face of the earth so I am catching up with a friend on Thursday but what other day would work for you?”

“wait … I thought we said Thursday”

“I can no longer do Thursday, how does Wednesday work for you?”

Was it a sly move on my behalf?

Yes.

Do I give a damn?

Na, not really. Wyatt is just a name on a screen at this point.

Also he knows Max so I am kinda hoping this thing dies before drinks.

We decide Wednesday at a basic ass bar and the conversation continues.

He then tells me it was his birthday and well he went to HQ for drinks with his friends.

Now listen when I say this but a mans watering hole tells you everything you need to know about him.

Period.

I didn’t stutter.

For those of you who live outside of an informed bubble in Auckland or just don’t live in the city of sails let me link you in.

The owner of HQ is a cunt.

Just google him and inlighten yourself that truely terrible people out there still exist.

So we don’t go there. Its cancelled.

Now Wyatt is a basic male so he’s misinformed about many things in his life so I just mention that I am surprised that the bar is still open.

Such a shame that he is quickly taking himself out of the race.

Ah well.

We fast forward to Wednesday where I arrive first at the bar, begin reading the news and being unsurprised that a man is late to a time he suggested.

Wyatt turns up and we grab a drink.

Everything he is saying is going in one ear about out the other because I am too busy thinking about the fact that I ran away from Max two years prior.

Despite me not paying any attention we are the last ones in the bar and its going surprising well.

Wyatt can talk and I can nod.

I ask him if he wants to go to another bar since we are getting kicked out and don’t seem to be done talking.

Just a hop skip and a jump away is a classic cocktail bar which I love to go to.

We get situated and it dawns on me that I am still holding onto my secret.

Yup. Good. Great.

Nice.

Wyatt gets back from the bathroom and we order a round of drinks.

I skipped to the bathroom and when I return things have clearly escalated because he’s now sitting very close to me.

So we are sitting there and then I realise I have never actually said happy birthday to Wyatt in person.

I lean forward put a hand on his knee and say “I forgot to tell you but Happy Birthday” and kiss him.

Yeah

Asking about his weekend and how it was his birthday I enquire about the details.

He and his flatmates got very rowdy at home after town.

Wyatt tells me he lives with his best mates.

He then tells me more details about them.

Some of which I cannot share with you as they are identifying details.

Then it hit me.

All of it hit me.

Max is his flat mate.

Max is his best friend.

Ah yup this is a fuck up on my behalf.

Cocktails have arrived and Wyatt starts to ask questions about what I do in my spare time.

Like what do I get unto in my evenings.

“I write a blog.”

“A blog?”

“Yup, a blog about my life.”

“About your life, like what about your life?”

“I’ve written about the flat mates from hell season one and two and right now I am writing about my dating life.”

“your dating life?”

“yup.”

I have always been very upfront and honest when it comes to the blog and I will absolutely admit that on this one occasion I didn’t tell ALL of the truth straight away but give me a minute here.

Taking this moment I confess my sins.

Explaining how the blog started. That I went on this booty call with this guy and I turned up and his room was a mess and before we slept together I asked if he had a condom and he didn’t. So I told him that I had one in my handbag in my car and that I will go and grab it. Except I ran away from this guy as he lay there naked and never returned.

Wyatt laughed.

Then I took a deep breath.

“That guy and this story has led me to write about other dates which then got turned into a stage show, made the news and well entertain a few thousand people across the world.”

Wyatt laughed again and told me how wild this is to him.

And it is wild.

Its fucking wild.

I pop my hand on Wyatt’s knee again and say “Max, the guy who started all of this, you know him and I have been sitting here really enjoying our banter but you should know because you two are actually best friends and I would hate for you to find out any other way apart from me. I thought you might have read the blog but you haven’t. I would never expose anyones identity but you should know.”

And Wyatt took a couple of seconds before saying “I don’t sleep with people who have slept with my friends.”

Brah.

Did you miss the key message when I said I went to go sleep with him but he didn’t have a condom so I ran away?

“oh um but we didn’t sleep together, he did’t have a condom just a gross bedroom”

“yeah he’s the messiest person in the flat”

Good to know old habits haven’t died.

“your flat mate really needs to work on how he talks to women just as a heads up. I doubt he told you about this incident but might be worth letting him know that his current strategy isn’t working.”

“so you didn’t sleep with him?”

“no, he booty called me, begged me to hurry up and when I graced him with 40 minutes he didn’t clean his room or have protection, so I left.”

“but you did everything else?”

“no because dudes these days don’t go out giving oral for some stupid reason.”

And honestly now that I cast my mind WAY back I am kinda glad it didn’t happen, there is only so far my acting skills can carry bad talent.

“yeah I don’t get with girls any of my mates have been with – morally.”

“fair call, like I said I wanted to be honest, he’s clearly a really good mate of yours and I would never want to jeopardise any of that.”

The conversation took a pause and I jumped to the bathroom.

I stood in that tiny cubical looking at myself in the mirror wondering if I had just cock blocked myself but I had done the right thing.

Sitting back down the waiter came over and asked us if we wanted another round.

Wyatt said yes.

Sorry, what.

If there was ever a time to call it a night because this isn’t going anywhere it would have been right then.

I am staring quite rudely at Wyatt because all bets were off and now they are back on again?

Men say women are hard to read you deal with a man who morally won’t sleep with you but wants your company.

Whilst we wait for drinks Wyatt clearly was thinking and asks if the website in my bio is blog.

Obviously he has seen it and so I asked him if he clicked it?

He tells me that he did but it was a lot of writing so he didn’t bother reading it.

No worries the blog isn’t for everyone. Clearly he is a picture book sort of guy.

We continue chatting about our lives and I am wondering why the hell I am still here. Don’t get me wrong, good chat but I am not out here to make friends.

Its now at that point in the night where you would think this story would be coming to an end, right?

God you guys should know by now but absolutely not.

Wyatt asks me where I live and I explain that I was house sitting this week. He offers to drive me home which to his credit after this evening is a nice gesture.

We get up to go and leave and I am not going to lie but I was feeling mega guilty, so I paid the bill.

As he is driving me back to where I was house sitting and its late. Easily close to midnight.

I don’t remember how the next bit went but Wyatt is parking and coming inside.

Which for a man who isn’t going to sleep with me seems like a lot of effort. I offer him a water and just go balls to the wall in being bold because ya gal is not sober.

“do you just want to stay?”

This version of Seren, she is unpredictable, there isn’t a filter on her and she seems to only come out when the moon is high in the sky.

Wyatt says yes and me, myself and I are rather shocked.

So one thing is leading to another.

What happened to Wyatt’s morals?

Was it my matching lingerie set or the fact that I spoke absolute rubbish on the way home?

Did he leave them in the bar?

We get to the grand moment.

And then I realise – I am not at my house.

I didn’t pack a bag with the expectations that I would be sleeping with someone.

So I ask Wyatt “do you have a condom?”

“um no, do you?”

“if I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“so you don’t have one?”

“no this isn’t my house”

“but you have birth control right?”

Get the fuck out of here.

Fuck right off.

“I am not sleeping with you without a condom.”

“I think I have one in my car”

OH SHIT

ITS HAPPENING

KARMA IS HAPPENING TO ME

RIGHT

FUCKING

NOW

FULL CIRCLE MOMENT

I TOLD HIM THE STORY AND NOW HE IS GETTING THE BEST EVER REVENGE ON ME

WOW

WYATT YOU ARE SMOOTH

So he gets out of bed, puts on clothes and shoes just like I did to his best mate and he literally runs out the door.

But ladies and gents as I lay there in my stunning matching set I see Wyatt’s wallet and phone.

He was telling the truth, he wasn’t running away, he was sprinting to his car to hunt for a condom at 2am.

I couldn’t even believe it.

About 4 minutes later he comes back in empty handed. 9

This gal can only laugh, really hard at this entire situation.

Because Wyatt and Max are the same which is why they are best friends, why they live together and why neither of them got to sleep with me.

No protection – no go – no exceptions.

Good night sir, its time to go to sleep.

You are going home empty handed and you ended up cock blocking yourself.

Check mate.

We woke up about 5am and Wyatt left because he had to go home and get ready for work and I put myself in the shower with a hangover before crawling back to bed for an hour.

It felt like a fever dream.

What the actual fuck.

Needless to say we never went on another date, in fact the chat just died out.

I was hit with “are you out tonight??” at 11.47pm

And I told him should he should try before 11pm next time.

He said that I seemed awake and was really really trying to get a booty call by even asking me if I was prepared.

It wasn’t me who wasn’t prepared.

I have an IUD.

I am THE MOST PREPARED.

Take some god damn accountability sir.

Up your bills by $5 a week and buy some condoms for your flat.

Put them at the door and just be fucking better.

Needless to say we never met up again.

Wyatt still follows me on the gram but I doubt he will read this blog as it has many words and not enough pictures.

Tinder Stories – It Was All Too Much

Ah well here we go again.

Dating, getting even more bizarre and complicated than before.

Lets me Ben.

We matched and he was straight off the cuff super lovely.

And the truth is, he always was lovely but this isn’t the story of a lovely guy.

I will say this again and then a little louder for the people at the back but when you date someone. You also date in part the people in their life.

You know their friends.

And I hate to break the news to you but they will pick their friends over you.

Don’t be thinking there is any way to get around this. If you don’t like his mates, then I can tell you right now. It. Not. Work. Out.

Well Ben had a best friend but we will circle back to him shortly.

On our first date he told me how he lived in the city, with his best friend and his girlfriend and for this story we shall call her Madison.

As Ben explains that Madison is a bit whack. She lies about her age, works for an MLM (which is just a pyramid scheme essentially), said she had brain cancer and doesn’t really get social cues.

You could see it on Bens face that he was concerned and a bit exhausted having to deal with her.

And fair fucking enough. All of those things don’t fly well with me. My best friend wouldn’t even consider dating someone like that, instead she would just call them out for being a liar and put them in the trash since they are just being garbage.

Skip to our second date and Ben wanted to cook me dinner at home. Standing in his kitchen he soon realises that he has completely panicked and forgotten to buy things for dinner. 

I don’t know how one forgets completely that the reason the pretty girl is coming around is because you were going to cook for her. But what do I know about men and magical power women have over them.

Ben has on hand – beef mince and coleslaw. It should be noted that it was pre made coleslaw. From a packet.

So you know what I did, I jumped in the kitchen and started to look around the cupboards. I love a challenge. If only this was a way to impress a guy at how pantry savvy a gal can be.

I was an arm deep looking for herbs and spices when Madison appears.

Now listen I am so fucking confused as to why people think it’s okay to start introductions of their flatmates when I am there to be on a date with them.

Like what more can you want? I put pants on, I did my hair and I am trying my fucking hardest not to put my foot in it on this damn date. I came here to win you over not your damn flat mates, sir. Can we just say ‘evening’ and be done with it?

But of course you can’t balls deep in someones kitchen and ignore them. Now, that would just be rude. So I say hello, introduce myself and ask her how her day was.

Ben starts chatting to her about the plans she has install for the evening whilst I am hunting for any sort of carbs or vegetables.

Madison then says she is going on a Tinder date.

But then I remember Ben telling me that Madison was the girlfriend of his best friend.

Is this where I find out about an open relationship?

Because good for you, love that for you!

Alas no.

There was that catch that popped back into my head. You know that thing where Madison and Ben’s best friend broke up.

But that they were still living together. Sleeping in the same bed.

I don’t think I could live with my ex whilst actively dating someone else and then confide in his best friend.

Any way back to dinner because this isn’t really any of my business. I ask Ben if he has any sort of pasta or carbs, to which he responds that he does not.

Why?

Oh yes thats right he use to gym incredibly hard and just doesn’t even think to buy them. Even now the dude has arms that could make a gal crack a smile. I on the other hand think I am made up of 65% carbs. So now I am very lost as to what I should make.

Madison on the other hand is about to leave to go on her date and both Ben and I wish her well.

But we need to focus, there is a meal to be made and I am running out of options and ideas.

As a creative this rarely happens. There were no carbs, there were also no vegetables. There was nothing.  But I fucking challenge you to make a meal with beef mince and coleslaw. Whilst wearing heels, looking cute and not getting your hair in the food. Oh and make sure you don’t say something stupid. I fucking dare you.

It is with the saddest and regret that I have to inform you that I ended up making the most basic, scary meal I have every made in my life.

There were two main ingredients and just one very sad chef.

Yeah you have a fucking laugh.

No one wants to be full when they get naked for the first time. So maybe it was a terrible blessing in disguise. Bonus was that I discovered that Ben was not a picky eater at all.

Anyhow, skip forward to after this meal and after ‘watching’ a movie and we are lying in bed when Madison tries to come into Ben’s room.

His door is locked thankfully but I am most definitely not prepared for visitors.

She yells through the door that she borrow Ben’s aloe vera gel.

He yells back that he will bring it to her.

And then she tried the door again.

His neck snaps looking at me, frowns and Madison says “no its okay I can just come in and grab it”.

This was like some sort of terrible set up for a threesome on Pornhub.

Which isn’t really what I am going for here.

So Ben gets up, pops pants on and locates the aloe vera gel.

He opens the door and she bang smack there.

Like nose to the door causing her to almost fall into the room

That was when the first terrible thought went through my head.

What if she likes her ex boyfriends best friend?

And I have just slept with him.

Cue dramatic music.

Ben returns back to bed and we both have a giggle that woman are weird sometimes.

Fast forward a few dates and Ben and I find ourselves hitting the road on an adventure. I don’t know about y’all but being locked in a car with someone brings out some quality conversation.

People always seem to go into more detail and maybe its the isolation or the subtraction of distractions but its the perfect environment to get to the bottom of who the other person is.

You see you can’t overthink your answers because the road consuming your nerves. Even after all the dates I have been on, I get unbelievable nervous and loose all control on how to form a god damn sentence.

But back to being in the car with Ben where we are talking how things have been at home for him. To which he reveals, a bit volatile.

Madison won’t move out, Ben’s best friend is exhausted to top it off they have a new flat mate who has just been dumped into a bit of a shit storm.

Who doesn’t love flatting right?

So I ask Ben if he has just tried talking to Madison about everything. To which he tells me he did but had to cut the conversation short because I came up.

Ah fuck.

“Me?” I ask.

Like I am not panicking on the inside.

Feel free to play that dramatic music now.

He says “yeah she said she was concerned about me because of you”.

“Me?” I ask again like I am fucking parrot.

“she said because I have started to see you that she has asked one of your friends what you are really like?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I told her that she needs to stay of my life and that its none of her business.”

“who did she contact?”

Immediately knowing that if someone approached one of my friends about who I really  was that they would come straight to me.

My friends = loyal bastards.

And that hasn’t happened.

Ben tells me that he doesn’t know who but he can ask.

My first thought is that I do want to know.

I want to know who she thought she could contact to find out who I really am.

Do a Google search love.

You will find a blog with over 60,000 words on who I am.

Then there is my social media which is all public.

And if that doesn’t quench your thirst; then ask me.

I won’t lie I was really wound up.

In fact I was angry. My dating life as far as it is public, it is also private.

Madison was about to learn that I am completely transparent and that as a Libra we don’t do well with being fucked with.

I turned to Ben and asked him if she was going to be home tonight.

“Yeah she never goes anywhere else.”

You see I was going to be staying at Ben’s tonight and I was going to do something that Ben nor his best friend has been able to competently do.

Call her out on her bullshit.

My plan was that I was going to ask her who she had contacted about me.

Tell her that this is her opportunity to ask me any questions she would like and explain to her that her actions are not caring they are interfering.

Then I remembered that this was Madison. A girl who lies about being 24 even though shes 20 and fakes brain cancer to her boyfriend.

Remember when I said I am really observant.

I smelt a fucking rat.

So I circle back.

We must always circle back.

Asking Ben how the entire conversation went.

Focusing on what she said.

“she has asked one of your friends what you are really like.”

If she had taken the time to read the blog then she would know, I lived with manipulative people. I see whats going on here.

1. she didn’t state what she had asked exactly – she just said she had asked.
2. she didn’t state which one of my friends she had contacted.
3. she didn’t say what specific thing has compelled her to find out who I really was.

Baby girl was bluffing.

You may not believe me but when you care about someone which is why she did this in the first place you would absolutely justify your actions.

Then that bad thought came back again.

What if she REALLY likes her ex boyfriends best friend?

Either way that is some drama that I am not about to jump into.

I’ve cooled down a little bit and I turn to Ben and ask him if we can stay at mine instead because I really don’t think I can face her.

Do. Not. Fan. The. Fire.

Even if shes not lying.

This is a giant red flag and I need to stop, drop and roll all the way out of this situation.

But then I look over and I can see Ben.

Lovely guy Ben.

Hes staring at me as I drive and my gut is telling me there is something more.

Something he hasn’t told me.

I ask him if he can text Madison to put his aloe vera in the fridge because we are both very sunkissed and I don’t know about you but two people in a bed with sunburn is a very, very hot time.

Whilst we just listen to the music and throw some comments around here and there, that feeling doesn’t go away.

We are now back in the city and I have decided that I ain’t going to let a 20 year old make me uncomfortable. We order some food and end up back at Bens.

Sitting on the floor, Ben’s phone illuminates.

Madison is calling him.

I ask him why shes calling him and if she responded to his message.

“Nah she didn’t”.

Call me old fashion dinner time even at 11pm at night is a no phone time.

I say “I wonder why she is calling”.

Then I see it. All over Bens face.

Hes scared.

And as he reaches for his phone I say “give her a call after dinner”.

“but what if its an emergency?”

“do you really think its an emergency?”

Once again I am calling her bluff.

I’m not trying to be an asshole here but if it was an emergency who do you think she would call?

Maybe her ex boyfriend who she still lives with?

Not his best mate.

“why don’t you let me answer it? I’ll put in on speaker phone and if it is an emergency then you can just jump in but you and I both know it won’t be.”

“okay answer it.”

So I pick up his phone, accept the call and pop her on speaker.

“Hey, its Seren, whats up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, is Ben there?”

Bruh.

Staring straight at him I reply to Madison and repeat myself

“Hes just in the bathroom, is everything all good?”

“Yeah yeah I was just going to say I am not home so I can’t give you the aloe vera gel”

“Oh no thats okay, I thought it must of been something really urgent since your calling so late! But I’ll let Ben know, you have a good night”.

“Is Ben there?”

I lift my brow.

“Nah hes taking a shower, I will let him know you called, have a good night”.

“Okay, thanks.”

I hang up.

And I put his phone next to the thai we were in the middle of.

“told you, non emergency”

“yeah, you’re right”

I say “whats going on? You didn’t have a normal reaction to her calling”.

Hes just twisting his noddles in a circle now.

“I get worried that if I miss her call she would have killed herself”.

Fucking hell.

“if you think she is in danger of harming herself then you absolutely need to do something, it is not your sole responsibility to deal with this by yourself.”

“yeah, I know”

“then you should also know that using the threat of sucide to control other people is not ok”.

“I just get really worried”

“You are allowed to be concerned but you should not let someone else control your life like this. I overstepped the mark there picking up your phone but I wanted to prove a point. Ive thought about it, the more I am around the more she is going to act out towards you. Because she won’t have complete control over you which is what she wants. First it was trying to get into your room, then it was that comment, like what will it be next?”

“yeah I guess I have never looked at it like that….”

Ben goes on about how he feels responsible.

That lovely guy has been taken on a lovely ride by a girl who thought she could use how lovely he is against him.

Its big ole mind fuck.

The next day I get home and I am exhausted.

After everything I have learnt, one thing I know is: dating isn’t meant to be like this.

Sure you date someone but remember you also end up dating the people in their life.

And I didn’t think I could date crazy.

Tinder Stories – He Was The Chosen One

Well here is a story of  why I think I am single.

Lets take a trip back in time and meet Nathan.

Nathan and I had been on a fair few dates and were quite comfortable together. It was safe to say that I knew how he liked to drink his tea and what side of the bed he liked to sleep on.

It’s a long weekend in Auckland and you best believe the day we are specifically looking at is Auckland Anniversary weekend. It is the weekend for Laneway. Which for those of you who don’t know is a singular day festival held in a park in the centre of the city. Creatures seek refuge under trees in the mid day sun and everyone becomes a bit of a pest when the sun goes down.

I am one of those pests on this day and apparently I am also full of ideas. You see Nathan wasn’t coming to Laneway and well that was fine by me at the start of the day because I had my squad. Don’t even try to come at me for using that word because I am pretty sure we are still trying to find out which way is Laneway.

Being the social (media) butterfly that I am you may have seen most of my day on a glorious Instagram story. Behind the scenes I was messaging Nathan as you do. You see I had asked him about half way through the day if he was going out that night or if I could come and stay the night with him. He said that he will get back to me as he was feeling quite tired but he was having a few drinks with his friends.

We all know there is a moment in all hangovers when you want nothing more than for someone to hold you and tell you that you aren’t dying and maybe just maybe see if they can bring you a water. I could feel it in my bones that in about 18 hours I would want to curl up on Nathan’s lap and sleep the next day away in 4 hour slots.

However we are still trying to find which way is Laneway and as the sun sets I realise that I have not heard from Nathan for a while.

So in any logical fashion you know what I did?

Texted him multiple times followed by snap chats and finally two phone calls and you know what I heard?

Absolutely nothing.

And for another 3 hours I forgot my quest to find a burrow to stay the night because I was still figuring out which way was Laneway.

The squad was still holding great form whilst we were watching the Jon Hopkins set when we were all starting to figure out how much gas was in the tank. The group was split, half was ready to go on to town and an adventure. I fell into Camp Snuggle and was calucalting how many steps it was going to take till I was in bed.

The question was who’s bed?

Que Seren’s logical brain kicking into 8th gear.

You see from the festival the next closest place was my best friend Laura’s apartment but 200 metres down the hill was Nathan’s place. You see my logic here.

It was at this moment I announced to the group that I was going to Nathan’s house even though I had not heard from him and in my brain if he wasn’t home I would just go back up the road to Laura’s house or continue on to my own house which was 1 km away.

So I took Gwen and we marched towards home. She had Laura’s key and her phone on loud and I took this moment to confess that I hadn’t heard from Nathan and to my surprise she was in full support of me getting what I want.

“you get those cuddles and if you can’t have them I’ll spoon the shit out of you”

Find friends who support your decisions even when they aren’t the best ones.

Off we went down the hill practically skipping to the entrance which is when I realised that I had forgotten that you can’t even get to the front door of the apartment without being buzzed in.

And in my state do you think I could remember Nathan’s apartment number. Absolutely not.

But what I could remember was that he lived on the ground floor and that only a large  concrete fence stood between me and his place.

With a boost up the wall I was now sitting there in a bralette, high waisted shorts, a bum bag staring right at his bedroom. A pest in her finest form only illuminated by the street lights.

And I couldn’t be more chuffed with myself.

Smug dumb dumb.

I scooted down the wall and knocked on Nathans bedroom. First there was no answer so I knocked again because I didn’t come this far to not be a winner.

A light flicked on and out of his bedroom came Nathan who was just wearing jockeys and incredibly confused as to what the fuck was going on just before midnight.

It was I dumb dumb.

I tapped on the glass with a talon and announced it was me. As if he couldn’t see through the glass and I was some sort of an invisible woman and I asked if I could come in.

Nathan unlocking the door asked if I was okay.

Of course I was okay, I had just gotten everything I wanted and was about 45 seconds away from bed.

Turning around I see Gwen who is now leaning over the short part of the fence between the trees. Saying goodnight and making sure she will be okay for the 200 metre walk back up the hill, Nathan thought I had gone crazy before he managed to spot her as she slipped back into the darkness.

I launched myself inside and immediately wrapping my long gangly arms around Nathan as he rubbed his eyes. He asked me where my top was and I had to tell him that I lost it and if he wanted any more details I would not be able to fill in the blanks.

My last two brain cells were struggling in my brain and we can’t ask much more of them.

He walked me into his bedroom told me to get into bed and pulled me in and told me to go to sleep.

And I did do that but not before giving him a play by play of my epic adventure. Because what is more annoying than a girl showing up to your house and then waking you up but to then keep you awake and overshare in the dark.

What was more amusing for Nathan was that when I finally fell asleep I was twitching a lot. You see in my brain me and my final two brain cells keep falling out of the sky. You know the feeling when you wake up because you are jolting yourself awake. I did that for hours and every single time good guy Nathan would squeeze me and tell me it’s okay.

Got to love when you pick the right guy to keep awake all night and not get angry at you.

You see in my eyes the only the only mistake I made that day was wearing a lingerie bra that clasped up at the front because EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I slightly pushed my boobs together it would pop open.

Which is clearly not the reason I am single.

However other factors that may be influencing why I am single are as follows:

• Jumping a fence that doesn’t lead to my own house
• Scaring the living daylights out of a boy I was seeing
• Keeping him a wake all night
• Being incredibly clingy the next morning
• Asking for a t-shirt because ya girl needed to fuck off back up to her best friends house to die a great death but that 200 m walk was not going to be done in a bra alone

The jury is still out as to why I am single but I beginning to get a far clearer picture as to why. If you have any suggestions then please let me know. Its not like I’ve got 4 weeks devoted to personal development on my hands.

 

Tinder Stories – Donuts and finger nails don’t mix

In my time dating (though that time doesn’t seem to be over) I have met a few weird eggs.

Sure I am happy to admit I am a weirdo but in the sense that occasionally I make dinosaur noises and maybe that is why I am single. Maybe this entire story doesn’t have a leg to stand on because I have set my standards at a certain level and me saying no in this story makes me too weird to date?

You be the judge. I’ll just get back to the story.

His tinder profile was something straight from Instagram.

I could see he had curated his images so that he appeared like every millennials girls dream.

He had an amazing smile, the body ever dude probably wants and a love for adventure.

It’s easy to spot these sorts of guys of dating apps because it’s the “too good to be true” look. Pictures of animals, then exotic images of places they have been, some witty captions and no images of girlfriends past but they were definitely taken by them. Because no dude can make himself that candid on demand. 

As a general rule, I don’t swipe right on these guys because normally they are all talk and no delivery. No dude who spends that much time on his social media has enough time for a relationship. Call my bluff but those images are there for a reason and it is not for his mum to see. These profiles are riddled with red flags. But what have we learnt, Seren loves the colour red. 

But anyway this is the story of Liam.

A guy I matched with and how I worked out he wasn’t for me.

So let’s start at the beginning.

Liam and kicked things off and we got on well. The banter was good, he wasn’t destressing to look at and honestly he was a nice guy. 

But like all stories that make it onto the blog, it’s not all rainbows and lollipops.

It was an evening where Liam wanted to catch up.

It was also an evening I didn’t want company.

Bless Liam though as he said “I’ll pick up donuts and we can just watch a movie”.

Now listen, I knew my heart of hearts that Liam wasn’t trying to make himself boyfriend material nor was I wanted him to. He had some really fucking dumb things that I had to address. So Liam if you are reading this, this isn’t an invitation to come back into my DMs. 

Anyway, I told him I didn’t want company, that I was in a mood but he seemed to think he could change all of that.

We love a man who is yet to realise how powerless he is.

But back to the Uber Eats delivery of donuts that I don’t want but will say thank you for because I am not a savage.

I let Liam come round.

Liam turns up, donuts in hand and he’s rather chipper.

I put myself back in bed and put the donuts on my side table and ask him how he is. To which he didn’t answer but asked why I wasn’t eating the donuts.

1. I said I wasn’t interested in donuts
2. I said I wasn’t interested in you.
3. I said I wasn’t interested in company.

So I just handed him the donuts and asked him what he wanted to watch and like most people we just sat there scrolling through Netflix for 10,000 years unable to pick a damn movie.

We were talking about what’s happened in our lives since the last time we caught up, Liam is just finishing off his donut when he asks me if I have any nail clippers.

To which I pause my scrolling and ask him:

“nail clippers?”

“yeah, I need to cut my finger nails”

Im sorry, what.

“you want to use my nail clippers?”

“yeah”

“oh no sorry that’s not happening”

“why not? it’s just me”

And at this moment I realise that this dude really isn’t kidding.

Then again when are they joking?

All I can say is “you aren’t using my nail clippers”

Liam then reveals his first and foolish card.

“well then you aren’t getting these hands”

Sir, I didn’t want you here in the first place, I didn’t want your donuts and I most definitly don’t want your god damn fucking hands that don’t actually do all that much.

“that’s fine by me honestly” is what I really said though isn’t it.

At this rate I am completely unsure why I even let him come round and most definitely do not know how to get him out quick enough.

And then I see him pick up his phone, open google and type in:

“is it weird to borrow nail clippers?”

What. The. Fuck. Honestly. Get. Out.

Twas at this moment I realised that Liam really wanted to do nothing more than to clip his god damn mother fucking nails.

And all I wanted was for this conversation to be over.

Listen I am not sure what was weirder the fact that he wanted to use my nail clippers or that he needed to use my nail clippers right then and there.

Like if he had a splinter then I would totally understand. They hurt like hell every single time you knock them. But Liam ain’t got no splinter. He ain’t even got one dang hang nail.

He’s just my last nerve and he’s stepping all over it.

And whilst I stare at him and realise that he is on page 2 of google trying to find anything that makes it not seem weird, I am planning on how do I get him out of my house asap whilst making this worth while?

Yup. You guessed it.

I slept with him.

Do you hear it? Its me hitting the bottom of the barrel.

Don’t worry, like most men, there wasn’t any foreplay on his behalf.

And 20ish minutes later I was alone in my room with donuts.

Liam hit me up at a later date.

He asked if he could come round with donuts again.

I said;

“Bring me champange, I’m over donuts “

 

 

 

Tinder Stories – He Told Me To Take It Off

Oh how I have so much to update you on.

Dear god its been a wild ride.

Just 4 months since my last post! 

Don’t worry I am still single and sassy as ever.

Things that don’t change – me.

Well, welcome back and I need to tell you a few things.

Marc from The Worst Date Ever – Part 1 & Part 2 (yes there are two parts cause you can’t tell that evening is one go without a break) has been in touch.

And by in touch – I mean he knows.

But before we go down that rabbit hole we need to back it up just a minute.

So get your booty right next to me, get comfortable and fucking hold on.

I published a blog post about the worst date ever and people thought I was telling a bunch of bullshit.

I’ve also been introduced to people I don’t know as: “the girl who writes the Tinder blog”.

Which to me  is – fucking insane.

Then the unbelievable happened – a director contacted me. He read the blog and wanted to turn it into a stage show.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a mother fucking stage show in a god damn theatre.

You best believe I was all about it and over wine he completely sold me on the idea.

So with any stage show you need actors and to get actors you need to do auditions and the best way to get auditions is to subject all the people you know across all social media platforms that you are looking for someone to literally play you and the dude you wrote two blog posts about and met on Tinder.

*takes deep breath*

But what most of you don’t know is that days after I posted on my Facebook that I was going to be holding auditions for the show Marc showed back up in my life.

Ah, yes, he emerged in his full glory with a stunning agenda.

He wanted to have a conversation about the blog.

Originally I said I wouldn’t write anything about Marc. I agreed to that but as I explained to him, when everything was said and done. We didn’t owe each other anything.

The last we spoke was months ago and we were on good terms. You see after that infamous  date Marc and I kept talking.

Yes, I am a dumb dumb.

You see after investing 3 months into someone I just wanted a civil friendship. I thought, well obviously we can never date, we can never go back to what it was before that night and we definitely cannot sleep together.

But you see after a month of talking I realised I was putting more in than I was getting back. I would ask Marc what he has been up to and how life has been. Our conversation was mostly one sided.

And after four weeks of my best friend telling me not to talk to him but forever being supportive I got fed up.

If you know me and we are friends then you know I am a hype gal. If you want to change careers, do it. If you want to move countries, do it. If you want to go on a three-day bender, I am right there with you and if you want to stay in bed and just have a cuddle I will happily be your big spoon.

Friendship with me, means we are in this together. The good, the bad and all the yarns in between. It is a two way street of advise, shit talking and laughing till you cry.

Marc, on the other hand was on a one way street to Pissing Me Off Town with pit stops at Lying Station, Selfish Valley and Boring amusement park. So I thought I would give him one final chance.

Yeah yeah, I know how stupid I sound (A DUMB DUMB) but I like to see things through to completion. That’s how I ended up doing a Masters Degree.

So I ignored his message about himself the day before my birthday and I thought, if he texts me to say Happy Birthday then I will consider continuing this situation.

Alas, Marc being Marc he didn’t text.

No fucking surprises there.

So my gift to myself was that I would block him on Instagram and delete him on Snapchat.

Wow I am a fucking millennial.

He could still text me and contact me on Facebook but this train had left the station on the way to the new world that doesn’t involve dudes who waste my time. I didn’t hear from Marc that day or any other day after that.

Not until the audition notice went public.

And then that little minx popped back up in my life didn’t he.

FYI: his best friend message me saying how he was so proud of me and how excited he was. 

Marc quickly establishes that he knows about the blog post.

He also expresses that he doesn’t like it.

He also then asks me about the show.

I wasn’t sure what was more shocking, the fact that he knows about everything. Or that he is talking to me.

Then I realised he was trying to manipulate the situation.

“I am genuinely upset that it ended up so shit in the end. Especially considering out conversations just died and now I’m a fuckboy. I want to ask you how you are and what you’ve been up to. But it is a little tough when I’m fuckboy Marc”

1. if he was upset at how it ended, he would of apologised 
2. conversations don’t just die for no reason
3. never called him a fuck boy
4. he can still ask me how I am and what I have been up to
5. stop the poor merant

As I explained to him that no one actually cares who he actually is, that he has always been able to contact me and that keeping his identity a secret is my only concern regarding him.

He tells me once again how I said I wouldn’t write a blog post about him and now there is a show. That he is justified in being concerned with that. He says it’s hurtful and harsh.

You see the last time we spoke I genuinely cared about him.

*claps* Guess *claps* what*claps* bitch.

Now I don’t.

For the first time since knowing me, I was my own first priority.

There was no negation. I wasn’t backing down.

Which was not like me at all and this conversation isn’t going the way he had hoped.

If he didn’t like what I wrote, maybe just maybe he should have thought about his actions as the repercussions they might have.

As he told me and I quote: “having a blog about Tinder mishaps you’re incentivised to exaggerate and create drama for the sake of content.”

Oh baby cakes do you hear that?

That’s you, clutching at straws. 

You fool. 

Then I reminded him of the facts. 

• he showed up late
• he showed up bleeding
• the date went terribly 
• he had spent the day with another woman

I said I will never reveal his identity and I stand by that and y’all have tried to get it out of me.

Then he just thanked me for hearing him out and the conversation ended with me saying “no worries.”

Oh but how Marc wasn’t done.

Explaining to the director the conversation I had only nights before, he takes this moment to say how he isn’t surprised.

Why?

Oh, only that Marc had contact the theatres president, outed himself and was asking that the show gets pulled from the festival.

Yeah I told you to hold on for a wild ride.

What Marc didn’t know is that the director of my show was in fact the Vice President of the theatre where the festival was being held.

And whilst he explained his situation to the president she turned around and used two beautiful words.

 Creative Licence.

Which translated and expanded means that you have every right to do what you want with the stories you have about other people and yourself and if don’t like it that story being told well, tough biscuits.

If Marc wanted to have a cry then he totally can, he’s allowed to. But don’t be thinking the show was not going to go ahead.

Get your own show, your own blog and your own dating stories.

And before I bloody knew it, the show was a real, four person ensemble that I was working on three nights a week.

The cast of Tinder Stories – The Worst Date Ever consists of three Seren’s and one Marc. Yes, there are three of me and yes it is everything you need it to be. It was the director’s idea and I am beyond happy we went for it.

I might be bias, but it is really funny.

And just as a friend of mine who works at Stuff was telling her boss about the fact she was coming to the show. Her boss asked her if I would do an interview. Because turning your crappy date into a stage show is just as funny as it sounds.

Nothing can prepare you for what emotions hit you when you realise that you are having a conversation about your own dating life with a reporter that will be published to the nation.

If you missed it you can find it here.

27,644 people read that article in a week. Which blows my mother fucking mind.

I also go no dates out of it.

But I did get to update my Bumble bio though.

Which is something right.

Also considering offering a service for writing bios for people to be honest.

Because if we are all stuck on dating apps then we might as well have something funny to read. Right?

I was quietly shitting myself because it all seemed like a dream until I was in the back seat of the car being driven to my opening night.

A friend of mine I think encapsulated the show in a one line:

“I had a big fat lol”

Despite everyone thinking it was going to happen, Marc didn’t come to the show.

Alas, I have no idea what he’s doing.

He is still Completely Irrelevant and I plan to keep it that way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tinder Stories – The Worst Date Ever – Part 2

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances, I have changed the names of individuals and places. 

Welcome back to part two, Marc is in the bathroom and my best friend is giving me step by step instructions better than Ikea on how to leave.

But what you might have forgotten is that my name for the evening isn’t Seren. It is dumb dumb.

Why you may ask?

Because you know what I didn’t do.

I didn’t leave.

You know what I did do, don’t worry I will just tell you.

Marc came back from the bathroom and a new round of drinks are on the table. Like, two children, we sat in silence pretending nothing was wrong and things would be fine.

Then he said, “so how’s your day going?”

And I picked up my gin and replied “you know what, I have had better Fridays”

“Oh, how come?”

“You are actually kidding right?”

“No, I want to know why you think you have had better Fridays”

I genuinely thought he was taking the piss.

But then I realised he was asking because he wanted me to tell him, to spill my emotions so he could act like it wasn’t any of his fault for the way I felt.

Looking back it took me a long time to realise what happened that evening and to be honest, he did warn me that people that got close to him always got hurt.

I just thought I was smarter.

LOL.

I was a dumb dumb.

So we are sitting there halfway through dessert which I have just pushed around the plate when I finally say:

“you are being an absolute dick right now and you aren’t making this unpleasant experience”

“Oh really, you were laughing before when we were throwing peanuts at each other.”

Side note: I act like up when I am not in check on my own emotions. 

“You of all people should know, that isn’t something I normally do. Yes, I love to have fun and act silly but this isn’t a time when I would normally do that.”

“Why are you getting so upset?”

“Because you made me feel like this and you don’t even care. I just think we should get out of here and pay the bill. I need some air”

Yes, finally I am making moves out the door.

So we get up, split the bill and stand outside on the sidewalk.

And I relax my jaw for two seconds and word vomit.

“let’s get a drink and talk this out”.

I, being a Libra forever thinking that another person can understand my own point of view just invited Marc a god dam mother fucking Leo for another drink.

Now if you know anything about astrology, then you will know a Leo cannot see any other point of view other than their own and I being a Libra will ALWAYS try to put myself in another person’s shoes.

Sitting down I realise just how upset I am that I have wasted my evening on a dude who clearly thinks the sun shines out of his ass and all I want at this point is an apology but what I got was far far worse.

I won’t go into detail mostly to protect this person but also because I don’t want to remember it. We get into an argument over this entire evening and he lends back in his chair and he spits out.

“I think you’re angry at me because you are holding me to an expectation that we are in a relationship.”

“But we aren’t in a relationship”

“Yeah but I think you think you are.”

“But I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, especially if you are like this.”

“Well, then you can’t be angry at me for tonight.”

“Are you out of your fucking head? 1. I did want this to be SOMETHING more but we cleared that up months ago. 2. I would be angry at you if you did this to me even as my best friend. 3. You cannot be in a relationship if neither of you wants to be in a relationship.”

“Well, I think you think we are in a relationship, so you can’t hold me to the expectation of one for tonight.”

And out of pure frustration and I break. It’s a Friday night and I am crying at a rooftop bar looking too good to be with a blood-covered ass hole.

“This isn’t going anywhere, we are just going in circles and I don’t want to cry, I am cold and this is bullshit.”

So Marc pulls me forward to be under the heater that he is under but in doing so I flail my arms causing me to knock my drink into his crotch.

And you know what my dumb dumb Libra self does? Offers to buy him a new one whilst spitting out apologies over and over again.

We give up on the conversation and being the kind person I insist that he stays at my house because now we are both drunk and I would much rather know he’s safe than rolling around in a gutter somewhere. Yes, I know he deserved to be in the gutter with his bloody hands.

Que next scene: I would like you to welcome back my best friend.

Who I had updated her that Marc and I were going home to mine.

I am passed out in bed and I wake up to a phone call.

It was from Laura.

“Wake up bitch, my mums’ flight got cancelled this morning so you are coming to Fashion Week”.

Bruh. My head hurt, I had a fuck tard in my bed and absolutely nothing to wear.

Laura, could not give a shit.

This woman literally got her outfit in Wellington five weeks prior and she is now giving me 40 minutes to get ready.

That’s what Laura does.

So you know what I did.

What I do fucking best.

Problem solve in a god damn crisis.

I get out of bed, put my contacts in and turn the kettle on. I tie up my hair and stare at my open wardrobe waiting for Queer Eye guys to leap out and take me.

I put some music on and get a wriggle on pounding my face with makeup in the hopes I will learn a god damn lesson.

Then Marc wakes up and the first thing I say to him is:

“I am going to a fashion show with Laura because her mum’s flight has been cancelled so what are you doing today?”

And as he checks his phone he says something about going to the French markets with his friends and I then stopped listening because all my brain is thinking about is how the hell do I get a dude who is hungover, out of my bed in the next 12 minutes.

Simple; as you stand there naked as the day as you were born you ask him if he wants to uber home or be dropped off at the bus station. Because I am sure as hell not giving him a 30-minute lift in the opposite direction after last nights performance.

Putting on his own clothes Marc told me how pretty I looked which was something I had never heard him say before and by this point I couldn’t care about anything that comes out of his mouth.

The moment I woke up that morning, Marc was no longer. He just didn’t know it yet. You see a night of blood, tears and pure frustration can do magical things to you whilst you sleep.

If you ever want to know if someone is worth your time, ask yourself:

“would this make Seren’s blog?”

And if the answer yes. then change his name to Completely Irrelevant after you drop him off.

Tinder Stories – The Worst Date Ever – Part 1

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances, I have changed the names of individuals and places. 

So where do we begin?

Marc and I had been seeing each other for a few months now and I guess what I need to make acutely clear is that we were not exclusive. We told each other that we had dates and how those dates went, in detail may I add. We did have rules when we were together.

• Phones down
• Pay attention
• Don’t waste each others time.

Mid-week and Marc asked if I wanted to dinner on Friday at a restaurant neither of us had been to.  He said he would book the table and we could make an evening of it.

Well, this is that story.

Now on Friday, I go to work. On this particular day, I worked late. In fact, I worked a 12 hour day and the realised I had dinner at 8PM and needed to go and get ready. It’s now 7.30PM and I still have not heard a peep from Marc which wasn’t unusual however we hadn’t worked out the finer details of that evening.

So at 7.30ish I text him and ask what the plan was. He said he would meet me there and I then told him I was going to be about 10 minutes late because I had worked late.

He said that it was fine and I said I would keep him the loop about my ETA and with that, I went to my best friends house and did my hair because I wanted to debrief for the day and work out a couple of things.

It was at this moment when she expressed her deep concerns for how useless Marc was being.

Hair did, gin and tonic drank, I got into my uber and headed into the city.

Sent a heads up text that I was on my way thinking that he was already there as he was working in the city that day.

What follows is not how a date should go. 

I arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes late. Marc was not there and I proceed to order myself an espresso martini because:

1. its Friday and 2. I am tired as fuck by this point.

Drink arrives, still no Marc.

Halfway through my drink, still no Marc.

Drink finished, proceeds to text Marc telling him that he is now late and orders another drink. I shall remind you, he was meant to be there before me.

Then I see out of the corner of my eye a very flustered guy walk through the door, points at me and shake out his hands.

It was Marc and he plonks himself down next to me.

And he tells me he can’t hug me.

His hand is covered in blood.

Confused I asked what the hell happened to him and he tells me he was on an ONZO bike (which is a bike renting app) and he was racing to get to me and the handles broke and he fell off.

Puzzled; I had a few questions.

1. why was he racing to get here when he was meant to be on time?
2. why was he late in the first place?
3. why the fuck is he trying to wipe his blood on me?
4. no seriously, why the hell is he trying to wipe blood on me?

Practically yelling at him to not put his blood on me it causes the waiter to come over. I ask for a bandage and tell him to go to the bathroom and clean himself in my ‘you are being told off like a child tone’. The waiter leaves, Marc leaves and my drink turns up.

In this time I call my best friend and she replies with how very confused she is and that she thinks I should leave.

Marc is now back, the waiter is also back with plasters and I am playing nurse on a Friday night in a nice restaurant.

He orders a drink and asks me what I am drinking but doesn’t seem to get the hint that I have questions that I would like answers to as he jumps around my question of how his day was.

He replies “it was good” and I ask if he had any meetings – “just the one”.

Side note: If you want a pointer on telling when people are lying, short answers about themselves means somethings askew. People love talking about themselves.

He then asks me about my day and I simply reply “really long” and we both silently take a sip of our drinks.

We get sat at our table and start looking at the menu and I ask where he was before here and Marc says “I was drinking”.

Now my interests have peaked, short answers with no details. Something is up. My friends will know, I do read into things a bit too much but it is because I am normally right (there’s at least four blog post I could write about that).

We order dinner and talk about our week and plans for the weekend. Both of us are busy. He then blurts out “I am in a bit of a cunty mood”. Now I query that because things are getting more bizarre by the second and I can’t figure out why. Clearly, something has happened to give him an ego boost. I would call Marc a very proud creature and I assumed he would tell me eventually but it wasn’t going to be over entrees.

I excuse myself from the table and call my best friend again in the bathroom because I know she’s on the couch and explains to her what is going on. She agrees. Very strange and messed up. She asked me if I was joking about Marc trying to wipe his blood on my legs and I remind her that I couldn’t lie to her even if I tried.

We order another round of drinks and I ask what he had really been doing after work. He says he went for coffee with a girl in the morning after his meeting.

Now it didn’t come as shock like I said we weren’t exclusive, though he had kept this under wraps.

So I ask him how it went and he says:

“I told her I didn’t want to go back to work and she said I shouldn’t, so I didn’t, I’ve been drinking with her and her friends since then. I am actually fucked”.

What.

Literally what the fuck.

So I reply with “so you were late to dinner with me because you were on a date with a girl and you drank too much and now you’re fucked?”

And as if he didn’t pre-warn me about him being a cunt he smiles and says “yes”.

With the magic that is the world, the mains arrive and I sat there waiting to be slapped in the face whilst my brain worked things out.

I begin to calculate and break down the math in front of me, his meeting was at 9am because I had stayed the night on Thursday and left him in bed just that morning. His meeting was short and I knew he had nothing else booked for the day. And as I slice into my lamb I realise that this guy had been on a bender since 10am.

I remember sitting there thinking if I should ask him if I interrupted his evening but he clearly saw me thinking and asked how my meal was. I said he should try some and downed half my cocktail waiting for someone to tell me this was all a big joke.

He then spots the table next to us and the drinks they are having and asks if we should get them. Yes. Let us get more alcohol to the table and specifically into my body because I need to survive this evening. We finish mains, cocktails arrive and well some god was watching because we have order long island ice teas.

I have never felt so welcomed by the inner party goblin in me telling me to just down the entire thing but I bargain with her with consuming half, excusing my self from the table again and if you haven’t guessed it, calling my best friend.

She is now giving me step by step instructions on leaving the restaurant. “book an uber right now, pick up your shit and get the fuck out of there”.

And you know what I did.

Not that.

Because I am a dumb dumb.

I sat down and asked why he was in such a ‘cunty’ mood.

He shrugged and though well my evening is ruined we might as well play petty and ruin his as well.

So I leant forward onto the table, looked at him dead in the eye and said the word ‘penis’.

Now if you haven’t played this game called ‘Penis’ it’s very easy to understand. You take turns to say the word ‘penis’ louder than the last person in a public place until you are too embarrassed to continue and have to back out.

Marc, being a proud person hated losing. We had discussed this at length which is important because he also hated child games.

“What”, he said.

And louder than last time I said “PENIS” and continued to drink my long island ice tea.

If you haven’t realised this yet, I have had a stupid amount of alcohol and am definitely not myself, Patricia’s cousin is out and she has no fucks to give.

Picture this: two adults on a date, one covered in blood and blue plasters, drunk, the other holding a permanent frowned face and now almost yelling the word penis.

I should also point out that at this point Marc is now playing the game and the waiter walks over putting dessert down asking us if we would like another drink. To which I pause the game and say yes to a gin and tonic.

We order and Marc takes this moment to go to the bathroom and yes ladies and gentlemen I call my best friend and tell her once again what is going on and once again she tells (shes actually yelling down the phone) me I should leave.

Find out what fuckery happens in part two.

 

 

The never-ending​ date – Tinder Stories

Seems unfortunate that it was Snapchat that reminded me of these suppressed memories. Forewarning and a word to the wise, don’t do what I did.

It was a Saturday night, I was at my best friends house and her flatmate brought home a bunch of people who had been at an awards ceremony that evening. As we all know people get sloshed at these sorts of things and this was no different. Having a yarn to these people on the couch one person, in particular, caught my attention. We chatted and he was clearly white boy drunk on wine and unlike some men who walk this earth, I didn’t push the situation. Instead drove everyone into town on my own way home and left them to it.

What was to my surprise was that the next morning, lying in bed I was swiping through Tinder and saw the guy I had been talking to the night before. Chuckling to myself I swiped right to him (that’s a yes I would like to match with you, for those of you who do not know how Tinder works) and we bloody match.

Now if you know anything about Tinder, matching with someone actually doesn’t mean anything. So I messaged him asking about his hangover. He was indeed, very dusty.

We get chatting and find out we are both from the South Island of NZ and that we might indeed have mutual friends and if you aren’t picking up what I am putting down we then added each other on Facebook to compare friends. Tinder messages led to Messenger and that led to getting a drink and talking in person.

Standing once again in Ponsonby I hugged the dude who was well over 6ft and asked what bar he would like to go to. Settling on a spot we arrived, ordered and proceeded to get ID’d because Seren looked not her age when wearing pink apparently.

But just so we know that I am not perfect in any light I left my fucking wallet in my car which has enclosed, my ID. So within the first 5 minutes of meeting *Clyde, I have to ditch him and run back to my car and get my wallet.

So there I am jogging down the road to get my wallet, snap chatting my best friend because my mistakes make her laugh.

I get back to the bar and we start chatting. Jogging to your car and back really settles the nerves which were quite apparent as Clyde was bouncing his leg so aggressively the table was shuddering like a small chihuahua.

We were a drink deep, talking about what we have been doing with our lives for the past 3 years and he spills the tea on his ex-girlfriend. You could see it on his face, just how much that girl hurt him. It’s very confronting but also refreshing seeing someone wear their emotions on their sleeve.

Now what caught me off guard was him asking me if we wanted to share a bottle of wine at his house. So we went to the bottle store, brought two bottles of wine (because we couldn’t settle on one) and drove to his house.

Yes, I told my friends what was going on and yes my snap maps were on. I also told Clyde that if he murders me, he couldn’t get away with it. He wasn’t expecting me to say that.

What I can tell you is what follows.

Clyde and I drove home, wine bottle clinking and then it occurred to me that I was standing in a garage that was a workout room/ laundry/entryway. Then Clyde began to whisper. We went from a normal conversation to barely be able to hear him. Then I remembered people don’t have as chill flatmates like I do.

So he grabbed some glasses and waved me through to his room and I was like “wow, Clyde with some big moves over here, ushering me through to his room, not so timid in his own home”.

But ladies and gentleman, girls and boys, he should not have done that.

1. why does he have a $4000 computer set up (and before anyone disputes this, Dad runs a computer business, ya girl grew up around tech) but his bed is on the floor? He had a bed base but no legs. In fact, the legs were sitting in a bag in the corner of a room.
2. why had he insisted on me going first when he should have taken this opportunity to hide the pizza boxes – AND I MEAN PLURAL AS THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE – from my very observant eyes?
3. why he tried to kiss me whilst juggling two bottles of wine and their glasses as he clearly wasn’t from a hospitality background?

Now if you need to know anything about me, its that I generally pay attention to all of the things all the time. Which didn’t bode well for Clyde because his dim lighting was not helping the situation rather making me look harder because it was like he was trying to hide something from me? WHICH HE CLEARLY WAS. Pizza boxes cannot be disguised as anything other than pizza boxes.

So I am standing in a room full of empty pizza boxes, just been kissed by Clyde and I haven’t even taken my jacket off, let alone put my wallet down. He then puts his wine glasses down – almost smashing them and says he’s just popping to the bathroom, to which I take the opportunity to send a snap and my location to my best friends.

Once again, take the time to check how to get out, check in with your friends and remember no means no. I will forever remind you of this.

I also take this opportunity to pour the wine because I don’t know what the hell else to do with myself and the Clyde appears in the doorway super chuffed, to say the least. Now I am trying to be as open-minded as possible these days and I think “bugger it, give him a chance”.

That my darlings was a big mistake.

It’s 1am. We are talking, cuddled up, I am wondering how I should start making tracks when he clearly was reading my twitching lip and said “you’re staying right?” and guys I let my wine brain talk and she said yes. Please play in your head ‘That wasn’t me it was Patrica’ from Split about 8000 times.

Now wine + wine + wine = Seren fighting to be the last one asleep so she can go home and be hungover by herself. But Clyde he had other ideas. Gave me a t-shirt to sleep in and was insistent that I couldn’t leave at this time in the morning as he wanted to take me home, his mother raised him that way and well at this point Patrica is in full control.

Fast forward to the most intense cuddles I have had from any man in my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t going to die of hypothermia in my sleep, nor is anything going to get the chance to attack me but at one point when my hair was definitely stuck for the 47th time that night. I did begin to think we started to become one being. Very dark times. So I wake up 7am and immediately would like to go home but no.

First I got the “I had an amazing time” to the somehow letting Patrica say yes to a fucking shower but FINALLY it was time to go home and we are driving and I’m like the joker in the back of the cop car, practically high from thinking about my own house when the car stopped.

Bless his fucking soul. Clyde said, “so your picking where we do breakfast this morning…”. The bubble popped, I was not at my house, I was not dreaming, I was not by myself, the date is approaching the 12-hour mark and I took a breath in and asked Patrica to take control. She blurted out a brunch spot.

Now don’t get me wrong, Clyde – lovely guy but I am now not wearing any make-up, in last nights clothes and desperately in need of time to reflect. I would call Clyde politely persistent and me a lost lamb who looks like a raw potato.

So finally, we are back in the car, yes we are driving home and then I remember, I can’t go home.

My hopes and dreams stop and gasp when I yell in the car “WE HAVE TO GO TO PONSONBY”. Like a manic motherfucker without a filter on. Clyde literally just cracks up laughing and asks me if I am okay.

Oh, but how silly Seren forgot that her car was where she left it last night at the start of the date. Its been so long I thought my car had just magically driven itself home like I did in my own head 400 times over the past 14 hours. YES, 14 HOURS.

I had almost forgotten where I had parked my car and I was like the kid who spotted Wally after everyone had been looking for him for so slightly too long. I almost punched a hole through the windscreen when I saw it.

We pulled up alongside and Clyde looked like he was going to cry, he double checked he had my number and asked me out on another date there and then. I said I would need to check my schedule and get back to him but that I was also going to be very busy that day/evening so don’t panic if I get back to you later tonight.

I hugged him, trigger reminded me of being snuggled to death and got into my own car.

Watched him drive off, turned my phone off and stared out of the front window waiting to be teleported home. Honestly, I have no idea how long I sat there for. But I finally turned the ignition, drove home in some sort of daze and practically sprinted up to my stairs.

And I can tell you now, there is nothing that can top the sound of my front door closing and the sound it made as I knew the date was finally over.

I then shred my clothes, put a robe on, put my washing on, ran a shower, recleaned my soul, boiled the kettle and made myself a cup of coffee.

It was now almost lunchtime, I rolled my blinds down, crawled into bed and vowed never to let Patricia take control ever again.

 

 

 

Tinder Stories – Why are boys dumb? – Part 2 an update

Once again I am questioning my own sanity and can’t seem to wrap it around my brain as to how I got myself in these situations. 

I said this update would be a goodie and I wasn’t lying. Why you may ask? Because these tinder blogs do catch up with me which makes for great tales. So here are those stories. 

Starting back with my first ever tinder date and all the statement jewellery he wore we find ourselves out on a Saturday night in a common club in Auckland. When out of the corner of my eye I see Tim in a full suit, pocket square and all trying to talk to every single girl who manages to make eye contact with him. 

Now, unfortunately, I have been left alone because the other half of my party had gone to the bathroom. Watching from a mere 2 meters away I felt like a classic tourist who had spotted a bear who had come out of hibernation only to go missing and be found in the bowels of said bear. Tim, I can tell you was hunting. He had a girl literally tell him to fuck off before he decided to try his banter on her best friend.

But then, he saw me. I’ve never seen a man lock eyes with his prey quicker in my life. It was at this moment I began to think what the hell was everyone doing in the bathroom. 

In 0.003 seconds Tim had closed the 2 metre gap and was saying these words. 

“Its Seren right?”

“Who?”

“Its me Tim, Seren why don’t you remember me?”

Girl, I remember you but I don’t want to know you. Also why the hell is your tongue outside of your mouth?

“I didn’t know I was your first ever Tinder date!”

And then I remembered that many moons ago I saw I had a message on facebook from Tim that I read over briefly that he had read the blog post. This, however, wasn’t my biggest problem at this second in time. It was still the fact that my brain didn’t understand why the hell Tim had suddenly become the Lizard Man. 

Honestly, I thought a third eyelid was going to appear. Before I could answer, his tongue flicked from left to right to left to just hanging out of his mouth waiting for me to respond. And then it suddenly occurred to me that this dude was pinging out of his mind on drugs. Pupils the size of his ego, tongue out of control like his gold accessories and yabbering on about him which was nothing new. 

But just as I breathed in to respond Tim jumped right in and said: 

“your blog post was fucking hilarious, I honestly didn’t know I was the first person you ever went on a tinder date with! You are so funny”

I quickly replied “thank you for reading the blog, hope you enjoyed it”

And at that moment I thought about dying then and there and being done with my life. Just become one with the floor and melting away for forever. Everyone came out of the bathroom to which I almost screaming at them that our Uber was here, that we were leaving and pretty much getting into a sprint in my trashed heel all the way to the door. 

I’m going to assume at some point Tim will read this and all I have to say is go easy on the drugs next time, you need those brain cells. 

Now we must move on. Move on all the way to Brent and how he temporarily ruined pasta with his farts. 

Brent, as it turns out also, came back into my life. And I’ll say this right now, Brent I am not your girl but she is out there. 

Once again I will remind everyone that I take a good while to post about these dates and when they actually happen. 

1. because time makes for great reflection.
2. because I have to get over these traumatic dates. 
3. because your girls life gets in the way of me writing these. 

So back to Brent and all the time that had past. I wrote a blog post and if you haven’t caught on yet Ill spell it out for you. Brent reads the blog too. 

Now don’t be thinking I keep the blog a surprise. No my darlings my bio on my tinder reads “trying to stop writing entries for my blog series about tinder stories, wanna help a girl out?” 

It is literally the first piece of information you can get your hands on. I have been questioned on my blog many times. I have had men say they do not want to go on a date with me because of the blog (suspicious, I know), I have had men specifically ask me after we have dated for MANY moons not to be written about on the blog (you know they know its bad when they say that). If you are one of those two people, I am a woman of my word, will not write about you on the blog. 

Okay back to my evening after I had written about Brent when I was out on a run and I went to go change the song when I saw Brent has slid into my DMs not once, not twice but three times. 

Brent had read his own blog post and this is what he had to say, prepare yourselves, at this point it had been two months since we last spoke: 

“Was that post about our date? I kinda figured I would be on there”

“Sorry you had a bad time but hope everything is all good. Again I’m sorry.”

Then 20 minutes later…

“Can I just make it up to you somehow? I feel like absolute garbage after reading that.”

Yes the pity train has arrived and you are all hopping on board and leaving the station but before you descend into the tunnel of sadness let me just highlight and analysis some things for you as you need my perspective on why I didn’t reply. 

And yes you read that right, I did not reply.

My points are as follows: 

•  it had been two months of no contact. 
• the blog was the only thing we had in common.
• if he figured he would be on the blog then you know he knew it didn’t go well. 
• the 20-minute delay is a gap in which he thought he could turn this around. 
• asking if there was somehow he could make it up to me followed by a very cheeky and trap line of how he feels like crap. 

Whilst you are all on the train off to pity town I am still on the platform knowing all too well that its one big ole trap.

So shout out to Brent if you are reading this, you clearly are doing fine without me, keep hustling that carb diet whilst you can. 

Yes, there are more stories coming but I just want to say how much it warms my cold soul when you share this around and how you and your friends get all excited when I post. I get incredibly shell-shocked when people I don’t even know through friends of friends tell me how they know me as the girl who writes the blog. So cheers, you make me feel very lucky!