A date? Thanks but no, thanks.

Why won’t I ever go on a date? Because I’m scared. Not that I don’t think about it sometimes, not that I sometimes wouldn’t like to try to be happy with someone again. But I’m simply scared. And in addition I feel repulsed – repulsed by lies. Lies when it comes to attention and interest in you, lies in glances, lies in the touch, kiss and intimacy. Everything that should be sincere, constitute a combination of magic and chemistry between two people, is tainted with lies. It’s not lust, only a quick quenching of appetite. It’s not looking for someone with whom we’ll feel good, but seeking a moron that we can manipulate and exploit. Whom you can thoroughly hurt with your lies and move on as if nothing had happened.

Gentlemen, what do you need Tinder for?

I’m never going to be a toy in someone’s hands again. A trusting toy with only good intentions. A toy that gets damaged and then thrown out to trash. I won’t even mention the fact of obtaining a few incredibly persistent stalkers and a couple of less persistent ones.

My experience with dating sites is to say the least, horrible. Take Tinder, for example. An app reputed as a tool to score people. Meanwhile I spent 4 weeks testing, 13 thousand likes, 90 matches and there’s no way to get a date. Seriously, there just isn’t. You can tell right away that most men whom you’re texting don’t even use Tinder to score girls. Honestly speaking I have no idea have no idea what they do with it. To get off? Not really, either. Well, evidently it’s one of the biggest contemporary mysteries of the human kind. Because they don’t have time for a coffee date, if anything they propose dates in some crazy hours. There’s nothing I want more than a guy who sees nothing beyond his work… And has no energy for anything beyond work! I know! They probably just use it for looking at pictures and swiping on their toilet, a sort of a contemporary equivalent of a facile read.

Either way is bad

Now let’s move on to a short guide on how to use Tinder. Beware! If you don’t have your Tinder account linked to your Instagram, you’re a fake. If you do have your Instagram linked, then having more than a thousand followers is unacceptable – because (apparently) it means that you’re not looking for a man but new followers. You don’t have a bio? Wrong! You’re a fake. You do? Wrong, no one reads it. You make it clear that you’re not interested in dating someone already involved? Oh, you’re naïve to think that someone will take it into consideration. It’s better to call a detective right away and get it sorted out yourself. And now we’re coming to the key issue, i.e. the photo. You have a photo in which people can see your body? Get ready for messages from perverts. You don’t? Well, you’re fat for sure. Speaking of which, I’ve come across some interesting research done on this subject. It turns out that women are most scared of meeting a psychopathic murderer on a date, while men are scared of the woman… being fat. Of course I had to meet a feeder who claimed I’m too skinny.

He knows best who you are

If you’re ugly, you’re screwed. If you’re pretty and well-kept, then you’re screwed even more. Because without a doubt you’re a princess. It’s clear that you’re stupid, you’re only interested in your nails, you don’t respect people and you have no idea about anything (and in the worst case scenario you can’t shoe a horse). There’s something wrong with you, that’s for sure. And your potential knight on a white horse knows everything about you after one onceover. He just KNOWS. And nothing and no one will convince him that it can be different. And your efforts to prove him wrong make no sense whatsoever and only make the situation worse. Finding someone with whom you’ll be able to spend time with nicely borders on a miracle. You keep hearing over and over again one thing only: work, work, work. Going out of town together? I don’t have time for this. Going to the cinema? No time. Or maybe a quick lunch? Forget it! Even for a purely sexual relationship he has no time. Or the knight dies after the first round.

Waiting for the happy ending

And even if you do somehow manage to convince him to go out, exchange some messages and like enough to go to bed together, then you normally start wondering what the hell you’re doing here because even going to the dentist would bring you more pleasure. Or getting your legs waxed. Let’s be honest – if a guy is 30 and he still takes the urethra for the clitoris, then he’s no Casanova. It’s the same with the talent for dancing or cooking. People are divided into three groups. First consist of people who simply do it and do it well. In the second one we’ve got people with slightly less talent but who are able to reach the master level with a bit of practice and knowledge. And into the third group we’ll put all the people who will burn water for tea and are nothing more than a piece of wood. Have you ever kicked a guy out of bed in the middle of action? I have. And often.

And if I managed to make it through without it because it was good, then well, I have to disappoint you – it never came to a happy ending. Generally speaking, it normally ended with Xanax. And this way everything comes down to one thing only. Being completely disappointed by the other party. And how many disappointments can you swallow? When you swallow all these bitter pills, you become as bitter and cynical as me. And as malicious as me. And completely devoid of any kind of hope, just like me. I’m starting to think that I’ve been through the love of my life. And keeping that in mind, I’m signing out of it. Thank you, everyone else can keep playing.