5 June 2015


So I had another Tinder date.

I have been doing so much swiping that sometimes I have no idea I have swiped right for someone until a message pops up from them.


This guy seemed like a nice fit. Australian - it's not a pre-requisite, but it's comforting to know that if you ever want to go home the option is there and it wouldn't be such an upheaval for your partner. You also don't have to explain who Kerri-Anne Kennerly is. 40 - not a pre-requisite, but at the tender age of 30ish, I prefer to be reminded that I was once young.

So we have a bit of banter over text and a date is arranged for a drink in a weeks time. I chose the venue and decided on a straight bar rather than a gay bar just because I like to quarantine the relationship in the early days. There's nothing worse than going to a gay bar and constantly being distracted by the other patrons - for you and your date.

I headed to the bar and was my usual 10 minutes early just so I can stake out the joint. No tables free and the place is rammed. Fuck. So I start texting people who are not there. He then texted and said he was 2 minutes away.

He walked through the door and there was a moment where I honestly saw his face drop. Ouchy. That stings. He was super masculine and I'm quite conscious of the fact I just put 'super' in front of the word 'masculine' which means ah, er, I'm not. However I felt like I had to somehow Houdini an octave or two lower voice from somewhere. Suddenly I turned into my father and started ordering pints of beers with this loud booming voice. I don't even like beer. It makes me gassy. The illusion was completely shattered when we cheersed and I forgot who I was playing and sang "Cheers" like a fucking soprano.

OK great. So we decide to go outside in the early summer evening. We do all the obligatory getting to know you chat and honestly if you converted our early lives into schematics and laid them over each other, there wouldn't be too much variation. He grew up on a farm. He has lived in the UK for 8 years and in Sydney for the same amount of time. I know these past life similarities might not be ground breaking, but do you know how hard it is to find a gay Australian who grew up on a farm in London? Fucking hard, hence I kinda lost my shit.

I'm not sure he thought it was as amazing as I did, I think if he was really into me he might have, but each thing in common mustered a raised eyebrow and a please stop interrupting my story by squealing "Oh my god me too!" look in his eye.

This guy had finesse. He was well travelled, he had self awareness around the bogan element of Australia, he was wearing chinos for fucks sake. Do you know how hard it is to find a gay Australian who grew up on a farm in London with all those elements and who wears chinos? Really fucking hard. I was hooked.    

So as the night wore on we realised we hated all the same things, although he did make a comment about a friend who just loves Eurovision and was trying to get him to go to Austria to watch it. He said, "As if I was going to go?" I decided to keep the information that I hosted my own Eurovision party extravaganza and the only reason I wasn't in Vienna was because of work commitments to myself, instead saying, "Yeah right." While the right side of my face twitched like I had a sudden onset of turrets.

I guess the 20 minutes worth of RuPaul's Drag Race material I prepared is not going to be tabled for discussion?

Honestly, I felt like Goldilocks - the last guy was too gay, this guy probably doesn't even own a Kylie album. I mean are you kidding me?

So we decided to go for dinner. I know that seems like a good sign. I dunno. He suggested it, but I think he was just hungry. And after the four pints of beer, I needed something to soak up the alcohol before I burst into Heroes by Måns Zelmerlöw and started pole dancing using him as the pole. Such a great song.
You know those moments on a date when you realise you're no longer in the running and you can kick off your heels because no one is looking at you like a viable option for future togetherness? I find that comes when you start to talk about the dating app you both met on. Once that question slips out, any future you had been building in your mind over the course of the evening can be dismantled one heart shaped brick at a time.

We left it with a hug and a peck on the cheek. He said, "We'll chat." Ouch you might as well have punched me in the face.

He sent me a WhatsApp after, telling me about some soundbite he heard on the way home. I responded with something wildly inappropriate like, I think I may be in love with you.

I'm kidding, but I might as well have for the lack of response he has given me.

Suffice to say, we haven't chatted.


  1. I just realized what a total dumb ass I am to have not read anything you have posted and just subscribed to you. Your writing is absolutely awesome!

    About you date - sorry it couldn't go the way you wanted or would have liked, but if the interests are so different maybe it's best that it ended.

    1. Awww thanks. Hmmm that is true re the date. It was just good on paper. Oh well!

  2. Ah, my little 101 Dalmations friend, this did make me laugh! What a shame. His loss though. And I don't just mean not owning a Kylie album. x


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