A reader writes, a real-life Tinder date
The Shallow Man is currently residing in a village in France of 650 people. There is no Internet connectivity to the house where I’m staying, nor cellphone coverage. I appear to be the only person of colour for miles around, I suspect that this is the case due to the number of people stopping in the street and pointing at me, or doing double takes. One lady almost managed to pull off that scene from the exorcist where the possessed child’s head turns almost full circle. As I’ve not been wearing my three-piece suits here, all of this attention is certainly not due to my usual exceptional sense of style.
Being here has been very good for my French. For instance, by accidentally showering with hair conditioner, I’m pleased to say that certain hairs on my body have never been so invigored, full of volume and radiant as they are now, and at least I now know the French word for hair conditioner. Which brings me to the subject of today’s post. With so many people going on spontaneous and last minute tinder dates, sales of shampoo and conditioner in the Netherlands (but sadly not hair dryers) are going through the roof.
While existing in splendid isolation here in my little French bolthole, during the rare moments when internet connectivity has been possible, I read a message sent by a Dutch Antelope (female) who was kind enough to share a recent tinder date that she’d been on. Some minor details have been changed to protect the guilty, but the story itself is true. It may not amuse some, and if as a result the Shallow Man is hunted down by a group of angry Dutchmen, and is forced to go to the V&D and buy a pair of bright red jeans, and is then led by force to sit outside Cafe Wildschut in Amsterdam, smoke endless cigarettes and talk about the merits of Ajax versus other football teams, in my best kakker accent I’ll shout “de Audi 4×4 van mijn moeder is toch mooier dan die van jou, jij domme zak!”
A reader writes
I love reading your posts and recently read the ones about Tinder and your ebook Dating the Dutch. I read that you’d like to receive more Tinder dating experiences if I’m right?
So here goes. Around a month ago I had a date with a guy who I’d been chatting with on Tinder for about two and a half weeks. He was a fun guy (not a mushroom as in funghi) but a funny, entertaining guy.
A real-life Tinder date reality vs expectations
The first major let down on meeting him was that of all the things he could have chosen to lie about, he lied about his height. He told me he was taller than me which wasn’t true and I’m not even that tall. It’s not the kind of lie that’s easy to get away with unless with a straight face you say “I was taller than you, but while getting ready had a bath and fell asleep, which is why I’m now a bit shorter than I originally claimed.”
He also mentioned that he drove a BMW, which was true. What he neglected to mention was that the BMW was from the early nineteen-eighties and was the kind of car that any self-respecting car thief would be embarrassed to steal as it was in such bad condition. This might make me sound like a gold digger, but I never asked him if he drove a car, or what kind it was, he brought it up, not me.
So we had ‘dinner’ at that well-known centre of the Amsterdam culinary world, Vapiano (woohoo). He was funnier on text than in person, and like his height, the reality was shorter in person than the high expectations I had of the date, and then the dreaded moment of paying the bill arrived.
It has happened to me before that the guys split the bill on the first date or they try and do their absolute best to have you pay half of the bill without directly asking for it. (even as a Dutch girl that somehow still surprises me)
But what happened to me on this date has never happened to me before. When we had to pay the bill he actually went on his phone to use a banking app to send money from his savings account to his checking account. To make it even worse he didn’t have a signal inside the restaurant so he had to go outside, wait for a signal and transfer the money while I was waiting at the cashier. This took forever. Splitting the bill on a first date is bad enough but I will sure as hell not pay for him on a first date.
Needless to say that what with the reduction in his height between the time we texted and met in person, and the awkward technical problems he encountered while attempting to pay the bill, we never went on a second date.
No fluffy bunnies were hurt during the writing of this post.