#tinderfails

Brandon, 38, gym bro and podcast king, says Tinder is discriminating against him… for not wanting anything serious while exclusively dating women a decade younger. He’s now building a dating app and a protein shake no one can swipe left on. Bro, it’s not you—it’s literally the women.

It always seems better the first time. The second time you see them, that one little thing irritates you 5 times more. 

Danny is sweet, but I find myself struck with how he interacts with me. I’m talking, and he’s giving me creepy elevator eyes, breaking that eye contact to look me up and down. 

So I called him out, demanded to know why he keeps breaking eye contact and if he’s just looking at my boobs. He says he’s giving me an up and down as his “style of flirting”. I suppose it could be considered flattering, for him to want to check me out, but it’s distracting. 

It seems like inactive listening. Instead of looking in my eyes and deeply engaging with what I say, he breaks that to gaze at my body. Yes, glorious bodies. Yes, my glorious body. Yes, the body that drew him in. But my body is the wrapping paper on the gift that is me. It is surface level, decorative, and ephemeral. 

So I had a new first date, likely also not with a keeper. There is something intriguing about him, but he seems like he might be a bit too.... gun-toting. It is interesting how much men in America can chose to value guns. It scares me, and I don’t understand it. Consider it my personal blind spot or blissful ignorance. Yet the idea of a weapon as possession, hobby, pastime… all of that baffles me. 

We have wine in common, and he’s easy to talk to. He feels… present. Seems to listen, texts back, and communicates well & quickly. He loves his dogs, and seems to be largely independent like myself.

Four bad dates and a work week passed. Not terrible bad, yet not a single one worth cooing over either.

Consider is a wash.

DATE 1: Sunday coffee with Mr El Salvador

It's my first day with permission to be in the world since catching covid, and naturally, the first thing I have scheduled is a coffee date/meet-up. It's convenient because I have to pick up dog poop bags on the way home for Bean.

Pouring rain with limited parking at a weird non-place in Cully. I pull up in my car and immediately sigh, seeing the hooded young man, clearly waiting for his tinder date, with god knows what idea of what he thinks I will be. I come from a cross road that was unpaved and riddled with puddles. A 5'8" latino man stands across the street, wearing a thin pull-over blue grey sweater, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to him like a gap sweater you pull out of the closet and wear years past its prime.

Big teeth, a nice voice, glasses, and the way-too-thin-hood pulled up over his head. He barrel-chested hugged me, in a way that felt too tight for a first meeting, or perhaps the covid isolation had me unrehearsed. The coffee was too sweet and he was uninteresting. I left after an hour, and he ordered an Uber back to his apartment he shares with someone in Vancouver. Not quite a turn on.

DATE 2: Taco Tuesday with Korean Gym Rat

The first pick for date night, who had texted for a week, decided that now he's not interested in me before meeting me. So he was deleted, and contender number 2 stepped up. A 6 foot Korean man who was built from the gym and came with kit military sleeve tattoos. Heavily accented, I had not expected him to be born and raise in Korea, as I had assumed he was Korean American. Despite his accent, he was never lost in the conversation, and his humor was endearingly goofy.

He seemed uninteresting outside of working long days at work for a train company and spending likely too much time working out. He lost me as soon as he asked "why are you single?" I hate that question. It implies a variety of unfavorable ideas. That perhaps I'm hiding something nefarious with my looks, or that a woman like myself should be partnered, and by not being so, I have caused disruption. I'm single because no one is good enough yet.

More than 3 times throughout the night he offered me his hand (which was small) and left me confused as to if I was supposed to kiss it, hold it, fist bump it, or shake it....? He insists we go get tacos from a food truck down the way. We take his car which smells clean and he drives politely. He then orders ONLY 1 taco, leaving me to order a full meal to eat while he snacks. He hugs me to keep me warm, but I have no desire to hug back, only to be hugged. I'm selfish, but I also paid for the food.

DATE 3: Jewish Callback at the Dive Bar

A call back from a previous match from August. He wanted to meet for tropical drinks at the bar next to where my ex's brother is a chef. I pull around the corner and see a gawky young man with thick rimmed glasses and an oversized army green jacket. I cringe, hoping it would not be my date, yet I knew it was him already.

I take my time now park as I avoid what I know I am already uninterested in. Am I bad at reading profiles? I feel so surprised by these packages I have been ordering online, they always look different in the pictures.

Compared to him I'm over dressed. We clomp to a dive bar he says is close by but feels far away. I immediately pour down two vodka cranberries in a classic dim, punk, half-empty Portland bar. The conversation is easy, but uninteresting. By the third drink the conversation was more tolerable.

He stops to introduce me to his friends on our way out who appeared unexpectedly. I said hello, knowing I would never meet or see them again. He walks me back to my car, and I know I won't talk to him again, but rather than tell him in the dark rainy street, I peck a kiss goodbye and run off. Always best to avoid rejecting a stranger when there are no witnesses.

He messages later offering his number, an offer I don't take up. DATE 4: Latin Firefighter for Wine & Cheese

I was excited for this one because he was cute from the Facetime call we had the previous week. I had covid and he was out of town, so I figured a call might indicate if he was a decent pair. I had drunk texted him a bit as well, naturally.

I arrive to Stem wine bar on a stormy night, the wind blowing the rain sideways into my thoughtful, yet not warm, and cute outfit. He's 5'10" as promised, but with terrible fashion and form. He felt a little un-groomed. His all-black outfit was cheap, thoughtless, and covered in lint. His hair was messy and too long, slightly tucked under a baseball cap to hide it.

He's a proclaimed dom daddy, yet all of his movements felt like bottom energy. Good conversation again, but a night I was happy to end. His only attempts to touch were a weird moment where he fondled my right bicep while I showed him my work on Instagram. He walks me back to my car and I confidently peck him goodbye. I think I might call upon him again.