Probably my worst Tinder date
I knew it was going to be bad when I showed up to the ‘restaurant’ to meet Tinder Fred. Because it was a uni bar selling 2-4-1 Jager-bombs.
He was out the front waiting for me. He was handsome, slim with scruffy hair, delicate hands, wearing a beige woollen jumper and oversized specs (which I am sure he didn’t need), like an aspiring writer from the 70’s who scribes by candlelight because he can’t pay the bills, but convinces himself it’s because its ‘a more authentic practise’.
He was shocked that the Jager-bomb deal didn’t kick in for another hour so suggested dinner (which is what I had thought we were doing). He pointed to the $13 meal-deal (with a Coke) sign at the Indian take-away restaurant opposite. I suggested a Japanese place around the corner.
Him: I used to live in Japan, that is a good idea. And this is my shout remember – tonight is on me.
We were seated and he ordered the meal for us, in Japanese to the waitress, who replied in English.
He told me about himself – he was a comedian and he had just finished a 14hour documentary he was making about himself.
We got talking about dating and he announced that I should consider myself lucky because he never normally takes girls out for dinner: ‘Women throw themselves at me, I never have to try. Infact, they are the ones trying to impress me.’
The bill arrived. His face dropped. It was $101. He pretended to forget his PIN. I pretended I needed to go to the toilet ‘I’m sure you will have remembered by the time I get back’.
I returned and he was sour. He said ‘Ok well now you are taking me out for cocktails so I can get my money back that way’.
I said I had to leave.
He kissed his fingers to the window of my taxi, popped his collar, and walked backwards down the street. Kind of like the GIF where Homer disappears into the bush.
And that was the last I saw of him.
So yeah if anyone wants to set me up and help me get the eff off Tinder that would be great.
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