Tinder Tales – Anal.

The unthinkable happened folks!
The world must be coming to an end! Apocalypse is nigh! Hell hath frozen over and the flying monkeys are soon to descend from Walhalla.

I sent someone a first message.

On a dating site.

For actual dating.

SHOCKING. I KNOW! I made the first move. Which, in many ways is UNIQUE!
Throughout my life I have happily made use of dating apps (and equally unhappily, I might add). And though I grunt and moan and nag and bitch at them – they do serve their purpose. And they do it well. But lately I was app-tired. Or well, tired of the ‘casual’ness that is connected to most, if not all, of these apps.

I felt myself craving a bit more. A real connection. An actual date that wasn’t just counting down minutes to get into pants or under dresses or onto a bed. So I went on a –gasp– actual dating site. Paid for a membership, filled out an EXCESSIVELY long profile with all the pretty pictures, and witty profile text and men-enticing interests. The works.

Now, you must know – I, as the strong independent woman that I am – love to be woo-ed. And woo-ing, as an act of woo, is to be done by a gentleman with the bravery to make the first move. If I ever were to join an app like Bumble where I’m obliged to take a first step I’d die dry and barren (although, arguably, I still might). I have not ever (ok, HARDLY ever) made ‘the move‘. I’ve never had to. I’ve never dared to. AND (as you might recall – that one time that I sorta did din’t end well).

But today, as I was exploring this dating website and a whole ‘new‘ pool of possible suitors (which is an overstatement seeing as I recognized pretty much the entire populus from Tinder) I found a profile that I actually….genuinely…loved. Was wow-ed by. Got enthused about.

Bart.

Bart, according to his ACTUALLY WORDY PROFILE TEXT was a doctor working as a neurologist-swoon-. He had interesting hobbies, and not one picture of him holding a fish or riding an elevator. There were three hilarious puns in his captions AND he listed one of my favorite fantasy series as a must-read. I was smitten.

So, unlike EVERY usual timid, shy, wallflowery part of me – I brought up the courage and wrote HIM a message, instead of wishing and praying on the goddesses of love that he might notice and adore me alike I did him.

It was a great message. An awesome message. It might even have been the best message ever – formatted exactly as I would want a first message sent to me to be. There was a witty anecdote, some tie-ins to his profile text to show that I’d actually read it, and to end it all I figured I’d try something supercheesy that EVERYONE always does, with five winks, to show him that I didn’t take dating too seriously. ‘and I’ll end this message with a freebie. You can ask me ANY question you’d like. No ramifications.‘
I. made. an. Effort.

So when my inbox thingy blinked red with a notification, I rejoiced. I leaped up, anxious and excited to read this prince charmings well-worded reply to my perfect first message. I was already planning first dates, and rose petalled beds in saucy hotels near a beach and naming the kids I definitely do not want to be having.

But, as the world has a tendency to do, my ‘fresh start‘ and daring venture and mission to unroot Zoë’s world of dating into an apocalypse was thwarted before it had a true chance to start.

There sat his message.

‘Doe je anaal?’
‘Do you do anal?’

Nothing more. Nothing less. Classy Bart. Classy.
And all was well with the dating world once more.

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_{Up for some more Tinder Tales?
Keep reading:
Tinder Tales – Picture Perfect
Tinder Tales – Virtually Unique
Tinder Tales – Why ARE we here?
Tinder Tales – Darn those algorithms!
^{Tinder Tales – Anal.
Tinder Tales – Picky
Tinder Tales – But what does it mean?!
Tinder Tales – The curious case of the neckbeard}}