Tinder Tales – Picky

Opening lines are hard in online dating. I know. I’ve been there (that one whole time last week, but hey, I HAVE been there!). Scratch that. Online dating is hard. As a whole. In its entirety. Totally and completely. Scratch that. LOVE is hard. The finding it, building it and keeping it. But that is NOT an excuse to take shortcuts or put in less effort. In my honest opinion.

Because, when it comes to me and my swiping behaviors – I DO put a lot of effort in the messages I send ‘on the web’. I show an interest, I find grounds to connect, I answer in more than one word answers. Mostly because I love the exciting thrill of ‘meeting’ a new person AND because I treat every person as a potential new chance at love (and an unique human being). And I have 0 (ok, no, I have LESS than 0) understanding for people who treat dating like a box of ‘Kip 20’ (20 McNuggets) – where they approach every person as a carbon copy, not caring which nugget they grab from the box.

And those generic ctrl-c/ctrl-v guys…?
I get those A LOT – now that I’ve joined a dating website that allows anyone and everyone (if they pay the premium) to send me a message. Which, ironically, I could only avoid by paying extra NOT to get badgered by every random dude out there. Honestly though, I am having a grand old time laughing at the men that do approach me.

Most of them at least one (usually two) decades older, with a (couple of) kids and NOTHING on their profile that would in any way match mine. Fucking tiring, let me tell you, weeding through those masses. Men that make you realize that they’re just sending EVERY girl on there a message. Shooting fish in a barrel, hoping that one of their bullets finds a ‘prize’. And let me tell you – they’re not subtle about that being their exact approach either. They flaunt that disregard for the person behind the screen (or exude their bitterness and despair). IF their message even exceeds the one word ‘hi’ (without punctuation or anything, even).

The thing is….if you don’t treat me like a number – I’m a right charm to get to know. Truly. I CAN be quite likeable, I’ve been told. But when you approach me with obvious copy-pasted garbage, sent to boatloads of women in as little time as possible – I get all huffy and puffy and high and mighty and…well…mean. Like this morning:

So – in translation:
Him: ‘I hope you know first aid, because you’re breathtaking’
Me: ‘Lucky for me I do AND I even have an extra bottle of burn lotion because with pickup lines like yours I’m expecting you get burned down a lot.’

These are the moments I pat my own back, regardless of how vicious I am. Just because I’m giving these blokes a piece of what I feel is more than a deserved truth-burger. Because I’m making it known that this is NOT the way to go about things.

AND additionally (BECAUSE I’m mean like that) I figured I’d share the laugh with my teammates. One of whom promptly replied ‘You’re not picky are you? Poor guy.’.

I swear, even though it was ‘possibly’ meant as a miss-fired joke – rage flared up inside me so quick and bright that I was on the verge of throwing something into a wall (#heftilyaggressive).

Not even at the reply itself as much, to be fair.
Mostly because I got angry at myself because my FIRST instinct was to defend myself for NOT actually being picky (a defense which I’d typed out and replied before realizing that I GET to be picky). By explaining how I’d STILL (even after the horrendous opener) checked out his profile, seeing if he deserved a chance – to find another one of those never-gonna-match generic bullshit dudes.

Bu honestly though – what kind of world are we living in where ‘being picky’ is thrown at people as if it’s a bad thing?

Since WHEN is being picky a BAD thing, right?

And WHY did I even feel that urge to defend myself? Or why do I apparently secretly think that being picky is not something I get to be, or that I shouldn’t be picky even if I can be – since that reply was my first instinct? Why do I kinda feel that I really should be (and am expected to be) happy with any and all attention that I get. Instead of take that for granted. Hell, how do I DARE to be picky?
It was a whole jumble of thoughts that mostly amounted to me just being furious at the whole concept of dating.

Of course I’m gonna be picky. Hell. I HAVE to be picky. When your goal in life is not to just fuck as many guys as possible and ‘give everyone an equal chance’ at dating you – being picky is a must. Plus – the ‘poor guy’ rubbed me THE WRONGEST OF WAYS. How would he, the person laying a godawful pickup line on a girl he’d know he’d have no connection/chance with, be the victim there? That attitude just makes me want to punch someone.

My point is:
You get to be picky when it comes to love. I – ME – THIS PERSON RIGHT HERE gets to be picky. EVERYONE does. Hell, I fucking get to be as picky as I want, if I want to sit here and wait until Ian Somerhalder AND ONLY Ian Somerhalder messages me, that is my damn right. And if I wanna burn a bunch of nitwit dudes while I’m waiting – that TOO is my damn right. I can be the pickiest picker of picky picks. I WILL BE, DAMMIT!

GRMBLHUFFPUFFRAWRGROWLSNAP.
Guess who’s going to keep the dating app closed for a while again, to prevent further outbursts or actual punchings? Guys suck. Mumblemumblemumble.

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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}}