Watching Tinder dates makes me uncomfortable. It also makes me happy that I always carry my card on me. Perfect power play when one of the datees goes to the washroom/for a smoke, a.k.a goes to text their friends an update of how amazing or horrible shit it going. #relationshipexpertWIN. First dates. So telling. Body language. Lack thereof. Glances at each other. At your phone. At anything but the person next to or across from you (I’m big on sitting next to my dates, FYI.)
He reaches for her hand, she reaches for her drink. And downs it. So he does too. Fuck you, silence. Candle lit tables. Mood lighting. This, my friends, works in everyones benefit. But what doesn’t, is the separation between two bodies. Distance. Space. A buffer area, Each person with their invisible walls and guards right the fuck up. No one wanting to initiate or be the aggressor. Abiding by too many assumed rules that the insecure and have-been-hurt-too-much already are weirdly taught. Conditioned by. And so, it gets in ones head that the other isn’t interested. Chatter continues. The same old script in front of another audience. Hoping to get rave reviews. Hoping that these dates after dates after dates will finally turn into something more than.
Good dates are obvious. You’re touching/kissing/feeling butterflies. There’s simplicity and ease and it lasts way past last call because you can’t get enough of this newfound other. Like you want to swallow them whole. Their energy, their presence, their tongue. But shit dates too are all too obvious and we need to learn when to get goddamn out of ‘em. Because if we stay put, and order another and another and another drink, we all know you’ll lean it just a wee bit closer; will touch when touching was the last thing on your mind an hour or four drinks back. You’ll kiss/fuck, etc., because alcohol is a m’f’n bitch. But god do we ever not need to get there with one who we know is a lost cause. So don’t. Please, for me, JUST DON’T.
I was out for brunch with a girlfriend of mine yesterday, swapping stories of Tinder dates gone wrong, and gone very, very right (bat flip!) Her fucking-yeah-you-did story of how she gets out of those shit ones ASAP made me give her a well-deserved slow clap. I envy that ballsy bitch more than anything, because I never had it in me to acknowledge out loud that there is no connection and we should both peace. Because with people, with dates, as soon as we meet another we either feel something or we don’t. We’re either attracted to, or we’re not. And if I don’t want to rip your pants off of you within the first five minutes, chances are I DON’T WANT TO EVER.
So this girlfriend of mine taught me a rule from her play book. She was telling me about walking in to meet this Tinder duder, and she knew she wasn’t into it, nor was he. Her line? “This is a miss. I’m gonna go. Good luck.” Then she strutted her shit right out of that bar, deleted him on Tinder and on to the next.
So people, let’s just call shit for what it is. We are all unique and have such distinct personalities but we are not for everyone and not everyone is for us. Such is life. And it goes on (and on, and on.) But it also doesn’t sometimes so we must savour the time we have and not waste it on a shitty date with someone we have no connection with, that, let’s face it, we’ll never see again.
Instead of ghosting after the fact, use your voice, use your words and cut things off the second you feel like you want to. Talk about feeling empowered. Talk about having more time to swipe left and left and hopefully right and then do more than swipe. You feel me? That’s the spot.