If someone says to me one more time that "bitches be crazy" I may eat my own face. AKA a recap of the past four weeks,

   Once upon a time, a girl met a boy. On an app. And they met properly in a pub, and they both had quite a laugh, and discovered that they both wanted to be doctors but had failed most of their A-Levels so couldn't do that, and that they both also had peanut allergies. He babbled a lot towards the end of the evening, but the girl still thought she liked him anyway.
   They met a second time, to which they had a pretty perfect second date which consisted of Whitebait, a lovely old pub in the countryside, and a countryside walk at sunset whilst the girl taught him about books. She didn't understand how he didn't know who Thomas Hardy and Woody Allen were, but she thought she still liked him anyway.
   They met a third time, where they went to the cinema. They watched a crappy Tom Cruise film. And he was too sarcastic. His hair too covered in product. He didn't know about anything or watch anything. And she was too tired. But she thought she still liked him anyway.

Well you catch my drift.

I just got rainchecked by Gerard. For our date. Which is tomorrow. And i texted him, breaching the subject, first. No proper excuse or reason, just a 'could i possibly get a raincheck? perhaps to the weekend?' I genuinely laughed out loud. This happened all of half an hour ago. 

Ok so I wasn't 100% on Gerard anyway (see above) his lack of ambition "I'm one of those weird people who has kind of found what they want to do now" (errrr really? Wine buyer? From wanting to be a hospital physician?)* his "who is Woody Allen" and the awkward way he kissed which made me crick my neck to one side like a demented and probably broken owl. 

I am fully aware that this may all look like a child throwing its toys out of the pram in the style of 'I didn't want them anyway, so there!' But I was genuinely hesitant. You can ask my colleagues if you don't believe me. They had to endure my umming and ahhing over our computer screens for a full month. Maybe more actually. "If you liked him you would know" one of the girls said, whilst my male colleague shrank with ugh-theyre-chatting-about-boys disdain in the corner. When she said that I felt a funny feeling in my stomach, like how I felt when I opened my A-Level results envelope and saw the letters staring unashamedly back up at me. The truth, maybe?

But literally- what the fuck? I just got dumped by a raincheck. Who even says raincheck any more? It's like something from Corrie! And I am pretty sure this is a proverbial dumping, he hasn't replied now for an hour to my voicemail. 

Oh yeah haha it gets better. I tried to call him as I was sick of hanging around and just wanted to know that it was all done quickly rather than mulling over it at bed time and he put his phone to answer machine. I rang it back as I forgot to leave a message the first time, and left a not that angry sounding voicemail (proud moment as I was pretty annoyed) being like "hey it's Colleen- just wanted to see what we're doing tomorrow slash friday slash whatever and just to see if you're ok. Alright- bye". It has been an hour now so I have sent him off to the island of the lost boys (Neverland maybe?) along with the others. I've "Not Interested Anymore"d him on Happn, and I will probably delete our (now i realise, incredibly boring) text conversation. 

Whenever this has happened before I have just blamed myself. But I'll tell you a thing now, reader.

I am not blaming myself this time.

Nope.

Fuck that. Obviously it helps that I wasn't nuts about him, but this time I see my role in this termination of relationship-thing, but don't shoulder all of the blame. Yes it may have been a bit bitchy when I texted him that time saying "everyone was creative, it's part of being a human" when he blamed his lacklustre attempt at coming up with ideas for our date on "not being a creative person" and yes ringing him just now may have been a bit scary. But I will not listen to the shit the patriarchy spouts! Being assertive and calling a guy up you've been on a date with 3 times, let have your cat on their lap, and kiss your face 3 times is in no way being "needy". Getting a bit skeptical that the guy has not really considered where you are going for your third date after confirming that they're still up for it is not being "crazy".

I was initially hurt that a person could treat another person this way, not even my friends do this, men included, so the ever so tedious "women are more organised than men" argument does not apply. But now I actually feel a bit relieved? I am happy to work on myself now for a bit. I envisage myself, Bridget Jones style, sweating on a treadmill, and Carrie Bradshaw style, getting my hair dyed brown as a marker of a breakup. When the real me will probably finally get around to booking her first driving lesson, and finishing Mad Men.

The bad thing is that this blog may get a bit boring now for a bit, as I plan to take a break from dating. As easy as this whole being dumped by "raincheck" experience has been (obviously), I am a bit knackered from the ups and downs of it all. 

However, my phone has just bonged with a new Happn message. TBC.**


*- Ok some people are genuinely happy with what they do and don't aspire to change the world, and I want to clarify that that is wonderful. But I am not like that, and can't be with someone who isn't interested in doing something significant or at least being a bit creative.
**- To Be Continued. Not To Be Confirmed.

Christ.

   So after deleting tinder I have transferred onto another dating app- Happn. After being all oh fuck tinder it's awful! I've now gone onto a, in a way, highly similar app. Which also uses GPS mapping to find people in your vicinity to match you up, Happn calls this "crossing paths". Once you have happened (lol, even though I nicked this joke from my colleague earlier who used it when I explained the same thing to him) upon someone, you then have the choice to like them or select "not interested" which is much softer than Tinders big, fat, blunt NOPE of the swipe left (or right, still can't remember).
   One of the first people I began talking to was Gerard. A wine buyer from somewhere near Reading- I began my  usual way, I engaged in a good old conversation, the modern day "asl" from in a way, my first ever taste of online flirting, Habbo Hotel. But I completely had the rug pulled out from underneath me. He asked me out. so quickly too. Basically I had begun to moan to him about how rubbish it is nowadays that no one can really communicate any more and we all have to message each other, cowering behind our keyboards  with a snifter of wine for courage. And the fucker called my bluff. "Should we meet up for a drink then?" I obliged. Feeling hesitant, and still smarting from my Tinder date-that-was-not I thought saying yes might be easier than the complete shutting down ness of saying no. It seemed too abrupt, and in a way, too soon. So I said yes, and now I'm on my way home to get ready for said date. Trying to type on the bus and it's hard because there are so many voices around me and I find it really difficult to not listen in to other people's conversations- does anyone else experience this??? There's a Spanish girl and her mate chatting near me and there's something about the accent that is so expressive I can't help but earwig but anyway. 
   Now I am thinking of the practicalities of Colleen gets back on the horse. This whole dating thing- am I really cut out for it? I've always been such a ridiculously sensitive thing, to the point it's bloody chronic. And the other thing, can I really afford it? Am I leaking out money on gin and tonics and shared tapas and bus fare there (I always at least try to sponge a lift home) which I could be saving up for learning to drive? 
   This feeling of obligated attendance always just reminds me of when I was job hunting before I got my current job and I would get a call back from a company which looked ok- but not exactly what I wanted, and maybe a bit too far away, and there's that other application I have with so and so which looks like I may be in with a chance. I would get up too late and end up putting my make up on at the train station (which is kind of standard for me now anyway, except in this case it's because I just well, couldn't really be arsed) and then wouldn't have done enough prep, so when asked "so Caitlin do you have any questions?" I would stare idly around the room and ask ask if their office was new and find myself trying so hard to get my brain to just BE INTERESTED with that little voice in the back of my head saying "you could be at home playing sims right now" and I would end up staggering my words like I was buffering like Netflix during peak time all like "so.... Um.... Where- how..... Long.... Has this.... Office.... Been....?Here?"
   I'm trying to think of what to wear. I bought some dungarees in topshop on Saturday and they seem so inviting. But this bloke is a wine buyer, he'll want silky shirt, leathery jeans and little cowboy boots and are dungarees really a thing you wear on a date anyway? I said this earlier and my friend just told me to "wear what's comfortable" so does this mean I could show up in my emoji print shorts that I do my yoga in? I am hopeless at this. Help. 

Your application has been unsuccessful: why I hate Tinder

    For the first time in my life I have time to date. I have steady income, a steady job, my career is finally starting to slowly chug forwards, and for the first time ever- my bed is feeling a bit too wide. But the thing is- how does one go about dating? For my age, I will admit that I could be considered a bit inexperienced. But I have had boyfriends, and I have had ahem- relations. However dating in the real world, i.e. not at university/full time education, is entirely different. And Tinder taught me this, (almost) the hard way. I got out by the skin of my teeth, reader, I was one of the lucky ones.

   At uni getting into relationships for me was a whole different ballgame, and I was quite lucky. I always think of that bit in Gilmore Girls in the one where Rory starts dating and Lorelai is all like “its always been fairly easy for you, you’ve always had boyfriends just happen to you” or whatever it is she says when I recall my uni dating days. I don’t know about you, but when I dated at uni it just happened so naturally. We would hang out, which would lead to them sleeping over, which would lead to a sneaky kiss, which would lead to dating or in my most intense cases, a fast-track route to full on boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. In a way, it reminded me of primary school “going out”. A mutual agreement, sealed with a hand-in-hand amble around the playground.

  However, adult dating is different. And for me, it started in the worst place. A random re-download of Tinder. After experimenting with it in my final year of university, my phone forever buzzing with some guy, irritatingly interrupting my reading of Freud for my dissertation (the only man in my life at the time, a very happy partnering, which ended civilly, we may even get back together again), I had to remove it from my iphone. I then got it again a few months later when the boy I fancied at work disclosed that he had it (“it was great at uni for hooking up randomly”) and I just “happened” to use it when in his area… I deleted it furiously a few weeks after my time at that job ended, because again, I got sick of the haranguing. Not to mention the vast superficiality of being matched with someone based on looks alone.

   You may hear people say of Tinder “it’s a lot easier for girls as they will get more likes” but this is exactly why it makes it harder for us girls. I have had guys basically tell me they will rape me, (see image), guys send me images of their genitalia, I have had guys send me abusive messages because I am not replying after liking them. I questioned my own actions contributing to this at the time, accusing myself of maybe being a tease as I did swipe right (or left? Can’t remember) to him. But then I realised that not replying to someone who is sending me passive aggressive messages is something that I am perfectly within my rights, as a woman with free will and choice, to do.

   But for me, the worst time with Tinder was when I actually started liking someone. It began as just a few messages every few weeks. Which then lead to essays every day, so we eventually decided to meet up. This guy was a bit of an arse, he slagged off Fine Art, was very materialistic and motivated by money, and was a distant ex of one of my friends, he was also pretty good looking. So basically, he had a big KEEP THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME sign sparkling above his head, so naturally, I did the exact opposite. That mixed with my desperate desire for a loving relationship was potent, and I didn’t even realise.

   Our first date went really well, and we even agreed to meet up the next day, as we were both free. My feelings were feeling pretty good at this stage, he had be en messaging me tons previous to us meeting up, and wanted to see me the next day? He must want a relationship! Surely! But this was before.

   What happened the next night was so bizarre and awkward that I am finding it hard to even write about it, which is weird for me, as I have always since I was about 5 or 6, written about everything and anything with the easiest of ease. So I will just cut to it- basically me inviting him over was “an error”, as one of my good friends politely put it. Nothing happened between us, and I felt happy with this, I didn’t want to rush into anything, especially as it was only our second “date” (?? If you can call it that?) and he could not have ran out of the door quicker once the film we were watching was over. He barely messaged the next day, nor the day after. And I was a mad woman. By the second day of not much conversation, I was practically on the ceiling. Did he like me? Should I message him? I felt my inner child stamping her feet impetuously, why won’t he message me? Its not fairrrrrr, it’s been three hours he must have thought to message me surely? I was a woman possessed, and I hated it. I didn’t sleep all night. The dream was over. I felt discarded; it was like all those job applications I had failed except this was worse because it was a direct criticism on my own personality, my life. “On this occasion your application to go out then be together and then maybe get married and make lots of babies has been unsuccessful”. His silence spoke volumes, and it made me feel so redundant. That week my work became less organised, my copywriting completely off, I caught myself actively frowning when on the bus, I stared blankly into the fridges in tesco express. “Why doesn’t he like me?” going round in my mind.

   My brain was just recovering from the shock of my first date since my last boyfriend (who I could probably say, broke my heart a little bit), and now thankfully, I do feel a lot better. I just realised that I had made three vital mistakes.

1)   I had used Tinder as a means to build a meaningful relationship, a connection with another human being which had substance and depth, regardless of it’s rep as a pure booty call app

2)   I didn’t have any other applicants. I had this one guy with no backups, so the fall out was worse when I had no other nice little chats as distraction and antidote for my bruised ego

3)   I lost sight of myself. Something I have always struggled with is my own self-esteem. I know I have looks, and brains, and that I am funny and articulate, but sometimes I just didn’t really believe that. Like the beautiful landscape is off in the distance, but I couldn’t see it without a pair of binoculars to sharpen up the view. And the focus instead went onto him. This is something I am aware that I do when someone I like shows up, and its always toxic for me, I am trying to work on it now.

 He validated me, made me feel admired and fancied, and my ego swelled with the attention, so when he was gone I was left starving for it. But it is highly likely that he just didn’t want a relationship, and this, readers, is why I hate Tinder. The men who don’t know what they want are there, the men who want an easy option. I wouldn’t even say they are men actually, as they are afraid, they are boys. My dad said something to me which I found pretty spot on, “the thing is with your generation is that you all don’t know how to talk to each other. You’re all afraid of each other.” And I am really worried that this is true. We have Happn now too, which means you can engage with people you “crossed paths” with, so if you see someone in the street you think is attractive, you can try to find them on there and start a conversation there. What happened to just going up to a guy and asking for a light? Have we lost the ability to communicate? I plan to find out, I have just downloaded Happn.