To the men of Tinder, this is why I didn’t reply:
You wrote, “Really sorry, but I need to reschedule our date tonight as I now need to attend a client event in place of someone else. Hope we can reschedule soon.” I had arranged a babysitter and you let me down 2 hours before we were due to meet … by text message. (You can read my tips for dating a single mother here.)
You wrote, “Hi there, how’s you?” I wondered how many other women on Tinder had received the same message from you in the last hour.
You had only one picture; I didn’t trust you.
You told me about your career selling racehorses.
Within two minutes you asked me when I was free to meet.
You decided not to bother with photos, you opted for cartoons.
You said you were “happy I was not sending any topless photos… just yet (wink emoticon).”
You predicted that the next step in viral dating apps would be being able to smell prospective dates as well as see photos of them. This made me think of the novel Perfume by Patrick Süskind in which the main protagonist is a mass murderer.
You joked that you were a librarian by day and a stripper by night. You actually worked in finance and found it boring.
When I said that I had just poured myself a glass of wine and had to do some ironing, you said I sounded “sexy”. I was somewhat baffled.
You joked that if you had to be a criminal you would be “a drug king pin in South America: great weather, white marble houses with lots of grounds and platters of fruit.” I worried about both your morality and your naivety. I believe there is such a thing as a criminal with morality.
You asked whether I wanted diamond encrusted panties for Christmas. I refrained from telling you about my post-pregnancy episiotomy scar and haemorrhoids.
You sent me a photo of your erect penis.
You told me about your heated clothes drier (no joke, no irony).
Your profile comprised of six selfies.
You were one of the 60% of men on Tinder with a photo of their baby niece or nephew (“don’t worry, the baby is my niece”).
You profile text consisted of nothing but emoticons. I wondered whether you could speak at all.
You only had photos of yourself in halloween fancy dress.
You had a photo of yourself coming out of the sea in very tight swimming trunks à la Daniel Craig in Casino Royale.
You were holding two light sabres.
You had no photo at all….ummm.
You had a photo of yourself in front of a urinal…
You also had a photo of yourself in front of a urinal.
You were the third man in one evening to have a photo of yourself in front of a urinal and the urinal didn’t even look clean.
You had a photo of yourself shooting an AK47.
You lied about your age.
Your opening gambit was to message me the song lyrics to James Blunt’s ‘you’re beautiful’ :
You’re beautiful, it’s true
I saw your face in a crowded place
And I don’t know what to do
‘Cause I’ll never be with you.
You’re right about that!
I just couldn’t be bothered.