Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
I joined Finn at the breakfast bar for a spot of bircher muesli; a breakfast that masqueraded itself as a lot healthier than it actually was, for the record.
“So… these dating apps,” I said, “Is it weird to go back online straight after you’ve been out with someone? I think someone got a bit tetchy about that last night, even though he seems to date a platoon a day.”
“Well, yeah I suppose it is weird if you think about it, but you’ve got to ask yourself… what were they doing online as well?” replied Finn, rightfully wagging his finger.
“An interesting point, brother.”
“There’s not a written rule as such. You can go out with someone for a couple of weeks, see them logging on, and still not really be in a position to kick off.
These days you sort of date someone until you’re really sure you want to give up your single life for them.
The trouble is that it’s so addictive. People just don’t seem to want to give up dating these days,” said Finn.
“By people, you mean you, yeah? ”
Finn tutted, then thrust forward his wrists as if to receive virtual handcuffs.
“Look, even if you do find someone cool, there’s always that slim chance that a new match is gonna be better. There’s too much bloody choice out there. I mean it’s a lot to give up, right?” he said, with a pinch of desperation and just a dash of resignation.
“Yeah, it is. That’s what I’m beginning to be a bit scared of. It’s hideously addictive.”
“I suppose the cut-off point is around a month. Or maybe two,” said Finn, with some authority.
Finn had only officially split from his wife for less than a month and already seemed to know a hell of a lot about this game. Maybe he’d been ‘using’ for longer than he made out?
“So anyway, I got this message from the guy I went out with last night. When he saw me online afterwards, he said, ‘Caught you!’ . He was joking, right?”
“I guess. Well, half joking, anyway. Was there an exclamation mark?”
“Yeah. Just the one, mind.”
“And a kiss?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, well you're grand, then. Anyway, he’s only human, and the fact he saw you sniffing around online after the date means he knows that he clearly wasn't enough for you. That’s gotta feel a bit sore, right?” said Finn.
“Shit. Well, yeah. But like you say… what was he doing online?”
“Exactamundo.”
My brain imploded. Modern dating was clearly a cutthroat business. I wasn't even sure I wanted this in my life anymore. The whole process seemed to be designed in a way where everyone eventually ended up feeling terrible about themselves. Actually, who was I kidding? It was great!
“What’s the matter with your face, anyway? You seem a bit distracted,” I asked Finn, as he solemnly chased the remaining dry cornflakes around his bowl with his spoon.
“Listen, I’ve found a flat. I didn't wanna tell Mum today, what with all that’s going on with her. I know she wants us both here, but I really wanna go and look at it.”
“So, go and look at it.”
“The trouble is, it’s two bedrooms, which means I can't really afford it on my own. I was gonna ask you, but then that’d mean Mum would be on her own and I feel like such a dick for even thinking about this…”
“Where is it?” I asked.
“Tooting.”
“Fuck that. Enjoy.”
“What? It’s fine. What are you on about?”
“I know, I know. I’m joshing. I suppose it’s only down the road, and I just got a pay rise.
I told Neil that I was offered a new job as Head of Sound, so he made me Head of Sound because he’s too lazy to look for someone else.
So, the long and short of it is that, yeah, I guess I can probably do it.
Besides, she said the doctors are pretty confident she’s gonna be okay.
Why don’t we talk to her tonight and see what she says?
If she goes all quiet like she does when the Dutchman sends his wife along for the flower deliveries, then we’ll know she’s not keen. ”
Finn agreed and snatched his man-bag from the banister then left for work. I felt kind of excited that I was potentially going to move out of the family home for the first time in my life.
As soon as I was alone, I grabbed my phone and went for a bit of swiping. It was during that particular shift that I unexpectedly came across the most perfect human that I’d ever seen in my life outside of a two-minute online movie: Harry, 31.
I swiped positively in Harry’s favour, albeit in vain, I thought. I mean why in the name of our sweet Earth would he match with me? He was ludicrously out of my league with his pristine teeth and posh suit––or so I thought, until I saw those magical words flash up on my screen:
‘Congratulations: You can now slide into Harry’s DMs!’
What a rush seeing those two circles containing our faces bump together and link, like some kind of sexy Venn diagram.
It was always a pleasure to see that magical box pop-up. It generated such a warm, fuzzy feeling. However, as he hadn’t messaged me yet, it was up to me to instigate the conversation, so I had to think about this.
But what if he’d slipped and swiped by mistake? Lord knows, that’s happened to me enough times. Screw it. I bit the bullet and swept the other eight conversations that I was involved with to the side so that I could concentrate all of my firepower on this one.
‘ Hi, I saw that my picture must have got caught up in the process of you wiping your phone after dribbling over whoever’s profile was before mine, but thought I’d say hello anyway. ’
Perfect. A mix of lightly amusing and slightly self-deprecating. I pressed send without even vetting it twice. Four and a half excruciatingly long minutes later, I received this:
‘ Oh. Sorry, I thought you were my Uber XL?’
I felt a sense of humour here. This was a good response.
I struck again :
‘ Humble brag alert: Somebody wants to tell his potential love interest that he can afford large-sized cabs .’
I received a row of emojis back with jets of water coming out of their eyes, which apparently is a modern version of a ‘LOL’.
Bingo. And without another flicker, I asked Harry, 31 out on a date.
Stupid, I know. It was way too soon, but I panicked.
I fancied him so much that I simply didn't want to risk cocking up the chat, as was so often the way with me.
‘ Fancy going out any night except Wednesday? ’
‘ Thursday’s the new Friday, I hear? ’ Harry responded.
Thursday night it was. A great night for a date.
Some would say the perfect night for a first date.
Friday was too much of a commitment and suggested that you didn't already have a thriving social life.
After all, everybody knew that Friday was the best night of the week to go out for a few slurps.
And Saturday was recovery night from Friday night for those approaching and over the age of 30, although I would never tell a stranger that.
Between now and Thursday, Ben was messaging me, asking me whether I had any more dates lined up and also whether I was free to go out with him again next week, which I found a bit odd.
He didn't seem to mind that I was always online and actively still trying to date other men.
He had even changed my name to ‘Tron’ in his phone, because I seemed to live in cyberspace, although obviously I was too young to get that reference.
Nevertheless, I accepted his proposal of a further date anyway, despite the fact we both knew that we were blatantly on the scout for other people. Ben even started to recommend some more dating apps to me––some just the right side of acceptable, some downright terrifying.
I still couldn't resist taking a peek at the proffered sites, or indeed registering for all manner of three-day trials.
The floodgates opened to a plethora of new faces, and in most cases, big old cocks.
It was good, because I was becoming bored of swiping over the same old profiles again and again.
But this was when I first began to notice that maybe I was forming a little bit of an addiction.
It was the sheer level of choice that was causing all of these distractions.
Online dating was the most addictive thing since the Panini sticker albums I used to have as a kid.
Maybe that’s why I subconsciously felt the need to ‘complete’ every dating app that I was registered to.
On more than one occasion, I even found myself muttering, ‘Need, need, need’, under my breath whilst browsing my matches.
I was learning about the etiquette of online dating on the fly, but I was a fast learner. I was also learning a lot about myself.
It was odd how online dating was bringing out previously hidden traits in me, such as mild grammar snobbery. I would never dream of chatting someone up in a bar and then suddenly whipping out a pad and pen to demonstrate the correct use of a semi-colon.
Grammar was especially important to get right if you were going to employ the cut-and-paste message method or the ‘cluster bomb’ as I call it.
You didn’t want a mashed-up message going out to all and sundry.
Check your work, because auto-correct could be a real ducking bitch at times. See what I did there?
Of course, I didn’t cut and paste messages. Anymore. Well, not since I’d sent exactly the same messages to a couple of guys that happened to be best friends and caught me out.
Anyway, none of that mattered now, as Harry, 31 was on the scene.
Thursday came around quicker than a brown fox jumping over a lazy dog.
I was now a member of no less than six dating apps, and although I was plate-spinning messages from all kinds of people, including Ben––not to mention filling up my diary and thus leaving no room for my terrestrial social life––my number one interest was still Harry, 31.
He’d even overtaken my work crush Joel, would you believe?