In a new weekly feature, Her.ie goes behind enemy lines to see what it’s really like to be single in Ireland.
From speed dating to making speedy escapes, our no-holds-barred blog will follow one girl’s attempts to venture into the dating jungle, play the field and share any wisdom that she finds along the way!
Week Four: Indecent Exposure
This week, a terrible thing happened.
As you know, I’ve become an avid user of Tinder over the past number of weeks in an effort to kickstart my dating adventures. So far, it has done pretty well in finding me some eligible men and has also become a seriously addictive way of passing time when waiting on a bus, at the hairdressers or sitting in a bar waiting for a date to show up.
So, you can imagine my horror this week when my new favourite app gave up on me.
After a tiring day at work, I collapsed onto the couch and, with one eye on Eastenders, clicked into Tinder to see if there were any sexy men ready to brighten up my boring evening. The GPS started to search…and search…and search.
A process that usually took a few seconds had now taken minutes, with no signs of coming to end, so I started to panic. Have I worn it out? Maybe I’ve gone through them all? Maybe there are no decent men left in my area? Maybe everyone in the world is now married and I will be left to wander forever more like one of the really annoying characters in Lost?
It was another two days before Tinder started to work again (thankfully presenting me with a batch of new blood) but it’s still on the blink and refusing to store my matches so I’ve been forced to cast my digital buddy aside and go back to the traditional face-to-face method.
One of the benefits of Tinder is that you can pretend that you are draped seductively over a bed in hotpants that would make Kylie blush while you are actually in pyjamas that your granny bought you for Christmas with legs so hairy that they would re-start rumours over the existence of Big Foot. Having to go out and enter the dating jungle requires A LOT more effort.
But despite my urge to settle for a new episode of Nashville and my hot water bottle, I called up the girls for a night on the town to see what the real world had to offer. The first thing it reminded me was that Irish men are perfectly happy to stare you out of it for the night (so annoying!) and will probably only make a move once the first strains of Amhrán na Bhfiann start to play.
However, a few brave warriors put themselves forward and we ended up having a great night of dancing, craic and a few sneaky kisses. My favourite of the bunch was Mick, a teacher working in the surburbs, who had good manners, great banter and fabulous arms – three of my favourite traits in a man. We exchanged numbers and began texting but, a week later and despite sending more messages that I did to my French penpal as a teenager, he still hasn’t asked me out. My instinct is to give him a few more days and then abandon ship but let me know your thoughts – what’s an acceptable time to get past the texting stage?
My friend Angela had a few extra Jagerbombs on our little night out and decided to be a bit less patient about progressing her relationship with Daniel, a lovely fella from Leitrim that she met in Flannery’s. With a glint in her eye and a Supermac’s cheeseburger under her arm, she disappeared into a taxi and turned up for brunch the following day looking a little rough around the edges.
After a bit of rough and tumble with yer man, she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom and, understandably thinking that there was no point in getting modest at this stage, sauntered out of the room flaunting what her mother gave her. Unfortunately for her, Daniel was not quite the gentleman that he appeared to be and, delighted to have scored such a beauty, decided to show off his success (and Ang’s bare arse) with a swift Snapchat. Of course, Angela would have been oblivious to all of this if one of the recipients of the photo wasn’t also a mate of hers who quickly alerted her to her professional modelling debut.
Needless to say, she made a quick exit and Dan won’t be walking straight for a few weeks. I’ve also decided that in the interests of maintaining mystery, I may have to confiscate phones from any future partners before getting down and dirty. Or, you could always take Angela’s approach, ‘That’s it! I’m only sleeping with fellas with shite Nokias from now on!’
In other news, we had a lovely chat about #shiftyfirstdates with Ryan Tubridy on 2FM earlier this week and one of the callers to the show revealed some home truths about our American doctor! If you missed it, you can catch it here.
We want to hear all your dating stories! Email hello@her.ie or Tweet us @Herdotie with the hashtag #shiftyfirstdates.
