‘I’ll be in a red bra n panties…’ he said.

red bra & panties

Sooner or later most of us singletons will have a flutter.  Not on the horses, mind you, but on the internet dating scene.  Best to hedge your bets as well and register on multiple sites to cast the widest possible net and haul in those elusive unmarried men.   And just maybe one of them will light that spark…

OK, I do admit I dabbled earlier on, in that first summer when only the darkest desperation loomed.  But I did not see it through and I failed to complete my profile on the dating site recommended by my neighbour.   ‘You may well think me a slapper,’ she explained as she was emptying her house ready to move in with her new beau after 11 years of singledom, ‘ but I went out with at least 50 men before I found The One.’   There was hope after all… And for the best part of a year, my inbox was inundated with photographs of  ‘suitable’ and ‘compatible’ male specimens on the basis of the scant and patchy details I had provided.    No contact details though, as I was not a paid-up member of the club and had no intention of joining.

But being back in the country now for a little longer than intended and with too much spare time on my hands, boredom is never very far off.  ‘Have you tried Tinder?’ my son’s girlfriend enquired one evening, sensing my need for some distraction.  Tinder?  An App that I can download onto my phone,  for free, to test the waters  and try out potential male company available in the area.  I do not even have to leave my comfy seat!  All that is required is owning up to my age, admitting to being on Facebook, and deciding to open the field to include younger men.  Toyboys are such a fashion statement, and I can do fashionable!  Effortless, easy and pain free; so how could I resist?  The fact that I have a mere three to four weeks left before I set off again, is hardly a reason not to explore.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained and when have I ever turned down an opportunity to have fun?

The principle is simple: a quick glance at a photograph captioned with age and first name, and occasionally some sketchy personal information. Swipe to the left for a discard and swipe to the right for those with promise.  A match is made when  two people swipe to the right. A crude but effective selection method.  As I did not want to be entirely shallow and base my selection exclusively on physical attributes, I applied a method: one to the right, one to the left.  Within reason, of course,  I do have some standards and unmistakable preferences.  Although I should have taken a little more note of the guidance in the personal statements which often exposed the real motives for using Tinder… but I only discovered those after playing the game for the last few days.

Not sure about the quality of the competition either, but I seem to have no shortage of matches.  To my amazement, I must admit…  But then again, looking at my photograph, me perched on the steep incline of Dune 45 in the Namib Desert, hair wind-tussled and spritzed with sunrise rays… definitely not the conventional look!  No cats, no dogs or horses and certainly not stuck in the kitchen.  And if my neighbour discarded 49 men in her quest, I have already duly cast aside an impressive number myself…

However, I could not resist to acquaint myself with the 110-year-old looking in his prime, who assured me his cream did wonders for his complexion. He never admitted to his true age, but I suspect somewhere in his twenties. (22, he confirmed last night…  Younger than my own children!! When I tried to gently let him down, his reply sounded so disappointed, I have not yet discarded him.  I cannot be that cruel..)  I briefly courted 33 year old Swedish gigolo Sven (not his real name!!)  whose main  attributes  were making good coffee, filing and other domestic chores; the 800 mile distance between us was a mere trifle to be negotiated.  And P’s profile picture featuring a scene from Fifty Shades??  My question about whether he was serious or used it as a gimmick to attract attention remained unanswered – which I suppose was an answer in itself…  How to interpret ‘friends with benefits’?  Men certainly seem to prioritise the benefits, with ‘being friends’ a poor second thought…

But where is the harm in striking up a bit of conversation under the umbrella of ’Tinder Anonymity’?  When last Wednesday R. started his tête-à-tête with  ‘How tall are you?’, I was taken by surprise.  Does anyone care??  ‘He is probably short himself,’ my son’s girlfriend intimated.  We carried on and, after establishing his height (taller than me) and athletic build (definitely a plus), hobbies of walking and cooking, we found some common ground and continued.  His ‘Do you think you have nice legs?’ was closely followed by ‘Are you up for it this weekend?’  My legs fitted nicely in a size 8 pair of jeans and ‘it’ rather depended upon what ‘it’ referred to, I replied.

Having clarified he indeed meant going for a walk, we set up a date.  Meeting in a safe and definitely crowded place, not a dark and off the beaten track woodland.   This, however, brought on another dilemma: ‘How will I recognise you?’ I asked. 

‘I will be the one wearing the red bra and panties,’ he said, lol…

 

 

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