Tinder Tales I
At this point, I know very few people who haven’t tried tinder. They’ve either tried it just for laughs, or to actually meet people. I know a very small portion who have actually pursued relationships with tinder matches, and I’m happy to say they’re all doing really well.
I won’t lie, I felt a little weird trying it. I knew it was basically a hook-up app, and I had no idea if that was what I was even looking for. I just knew I wanted to meet new people and have fun. It was the summer before I was turning 25, and I decided it was time for me to have a scandalous summer. I’m too big of a control freak to ever commit to anything scandalous, so it was time for me to let go a little, and try something new. However, as a writer and scientist, I obsessively journal any and every new life venture so I can (much) later look at my experience (semi) objectively. Lucky for all of you beautiful creatures, you get to relive my experience with me.
So, here’s my first Tinder Tale:
“When Joan&Jane Were Sailors”
Before I start the story, I should add that Joan is my roommate’s nickname/drunk alterego. No one pronounces her name correctly and we decided on Joan, because it sounds sort of “badass office lady”. Also, Joan and I work together in addition to our being roommates. For most, it would be too much time with one person, but we’re basically two different sides of the same coin; we make a great team at work and outside of work… it works for us, and has for years.
So, one night after a really shitty day at work, we decided to get the pool floaties out and drink a bottle of rum in our pool. After getting a little sauced, we decided to go out for some cocktails -because we ran out of rum.
I met up with the Dodger that I slept with once (who I met through tinder, but that’s a story for another day), and Joan met up with a previous Tinder Tackle turned long-term friend who had flown in for the night.
I got annoyed with the Dodger, because he was nothing short of one of the flakiest guys I had ever hung out with and was being wishy washy about where he wanted to go (as far as which bar) -total shocker..an athlete with a short attention-span. So, I decided to pretend to ignore him. Drunk or sober, I’m not great at ignoring or even pretending to ignore people. So, my attempt at pretending was, I’m sure, laughable at best. I just rolled my eyes at him and didn’t follow him to his stupid VIP section. I think all I said was “Nah. I might go home. See yah.”, and then I took my pouty attitude to the other side of the bar. Joan, her friend, and I decided to stay at this same bar because after my attempt at passive aggressiveness, I was stuck in this rapid cycle of “take a shot, dance for 10 minutes, take a lap to make sure he’s having a miserable time (I’m a little batty…drunk or sober *I embrace it), and repeat! We did that for about an hour, and my friends were ready to strangle me.
Eventually, Joan and her friend got bored of the workout my crazy was giving them, and we decided to head to a few other bars. I eventually got them to go back to the original bar, claiming that the music was better. Joan’s friend got refused at the door because they thought he was too drunk…. I have no idea why I didn’t set off any alarms, but I still got in so I didn’t care -I didn’t see Joan after that until we left for work the next morning.
So, I’m at the first bar and I went straight to my dodger(because I obviously knew his exact location) and told him to take me home because my sandal broke and I was tired. He complied, and gave me a piggy back ride to our uber, while holding my sandal because I was too busy being devastated over my broken shoe to hold it myself. On our way home to his flat, I flirted with the cutest Dominican uber driver… in front of my dodger (who just laughed the whole time, while still holding my shoe). When we got back to his place, at 5’2” tall (1.5 meters), I attempted to give this 6’2” (1.9 meters) solid muscly athlete a piggy back ride into the house. We fall at least three times, but I got him through that threshold!! After that, I had decided that I’m basically the hulk.
What happened between the attempts to carry him into the house and my having to pee shortly after is still a little blurry, and was probably full of “I could probably arm wrestle you and win!”(I’m embarrassing, guys). But regardless of what ridiculous shit happened between those two moments, I had to pee. I eventually got to his bathroom and this was one of those bathrooms that conjoins two bedrooms. So, I was wearing a romper (with no-bra), and I was paranoid that taking my romper off to pee would intuitively lure someone into walking into the bathroom to see me…basically naked, just to pee. Well, I ended up locking both doors.
I somehow managed to keep the door to the baseball player’s bedroom locked even after having opened it to exit the bathroom…Leaving both doors to this bathroom locked, preventing anyone from being able to use the rest room for the entirety of the evening. So, at 4:30 am there was my sexy (mostly) naked athlete taking the bathroom door off it’s hinges. While doing this, he was mumbling that it was probably “that stupid tart my friend brought home”, so I agreed and even threw in a “she sounds like a mess!”. I did nothing to help this situation. I took a few photos of him struggling, snapped them to Joan, giggled a bit, then passed the fuck out -because I’m obviously that sort of “fun time” that you take home, locks you out of your bathroom, giggles while you’re struggling, then passes out… and I was probably drooling all over the place. I’m a gem, guys..I really am. Tinder should probably use this story as a testimonial on their site.
The next morning when I woke up for work, my Dodger and I were both still drunk. Still wearing the REALLY short romper I was in the night before, I stole a t-shirt from the Dodger, threw it over my clothes to give myself a little more length in the material department and made my way home. How I managed to get a ride home is still beyond me. Luckily, I made it home with enough time to brush my teeth, and throw my hair up.
After getting home, I found what the night had left of Joan… She was not only still drunk, but had lost her underwear at some point. Apparently she and her friend both woke up with random cuts and bruises and were 80% sure that they beat the shit out of each other during what we assume was really intense foreplay or a back alley fight club. Joan threw up in the bathroom at work twice, and I walked around looking like someone ran me over…twice.
Joan and I had a pretty successful night. We decided being sailors was probably for us, and that we should probably find a boat and take our show to the sea.
*I had talked to the Dodger for somewhere around a week. He was also not actually a dodger. Just an athlete (team unknown). He was gorgeous, and lovely but we didn’t have a lot in common outside of us both liking his statuesque body. Joan is still really good friend’s with her Tinder Tackle turned bestie.
Do I have any ex or current Tinder users out there in my following!? Or any other site for that matter? I know Tinder doesn’t have the best reputation, and to be honest, I never took tinder seriously. I basically used it to try out different personalities for fun. My next Tinder Tale will be about how one of my best friends and I posed as a lesbian couple looking for a “third”, just for a good laugh (I’m an asshole)…and for the free drinks. 😉
To Be Continued,