I'll Put Up With A Lot On A Tinder Date ... But Not Woman-Bashing

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I May Suck At Tinder, But Putting Down Other Women Is Worse
Love, Self

Some first date behavior is just unacceptable ...

Here’s a shocker. I am not a can of smooth. That part is not the shocker. Me admitting that fact to the general public is.

Last night I went on a Tinder date. I don’t go on many of those as of late.

In the beginning after my divorce, I did enjoy online dating and Tindering.

In fact, I’m going to boast a bit ... I frigging loved it. I was like a kid in a candy shop. Let me rephrase, I was like a kid who had been raised without a grain of sugar and then let loose in a candy shop.

Sure, there were a couple of complete goofs I stumbled across. They were harmless and, in their own way, funny. But overall I’ve met some great people online.

Some were just singular drink dates that turned into real friendships.

I know, weird, right? Men as friends!?

BTW — 'Scuse me as I give a shout out to one of them: “Hey Gary, been loving the pics of your sweet girl Sophie!” 

Although I’ve never been much of a "one-night stand” kinda girl, as long as a fella was interesting I had no problem with an occasional six-or-seven night stand over short periods of time when my kittens were off at camp or with my ex on vacation.

Some I dated for a year or two and had to untangle myself awkwardly whilst causing them pain, all because I was a hot mess and not ready for a relationship.

And one fella in particular caused me pain as he untangled himself from me. He did us both a favor, because truthfully I still wasn’t ready to be in a relationship and still a bit of a mess from all angles.

Overall I gotta say, it’s been a pretty damn fair experiment.

In fact, I can honestly admit I’m getting closer at being ready for a relationship, as I find that I’m not rocking back and forth with a blank stare on my face every time one of my married girlfriends mentions the occasional marital spat they have with their husbands. I’ve learned to count to three, offer a sympathetic smile, and cleverly shift the conversation to what I binged watched last.

Tah-dah! That’s officially progress!

Sadly, I'm running with that.

First off, when I do Tinder/online dating, I do, of course, let the pictures sway my first reaction. I’m human after all. 

But there are rules.

If you have only one pic up. Pass.

It makes me suspicious, especially if the pic looks too perfect or if the guy is too handsome. It makes me think that maybe that’s not really you. Or worse yet, not really you and you are too lazy to screen grab more of that handsome guy in an attempt to lure me.

If the only thing you write about yourself is your love of yoga, sunrise hiking, competitive cycling, how you eat clean and you brag about being vegan. Pass-arooni.

Why? Because I’ve been through phases where I’ve done yoga and hiking, and generally I do try to eat clean, but honestly more for my kid’s sake and how GMOs wreak havoc on their growing bodies. I tend not to worry so much about what engineered “Round-up Ready” sweet corn GMO’s do to my body. I’ve been dumping hair dye and bleach on my hair and head for decades now. All is already lost on that front.

But mostly, I recognize that I’m a work in progress on that end.

Not to be too TMI-ish, but I’ve already had a six-or-seven-night stand with those kinda of guys. They go to bed early. Their erections aren’t as hard. They have waay too much stamina. Ugh.

The last thing a girl wants to feel the next day is well rested, almost-sore and still horny. (Oh snap! I’m getting real now up in this bitch.) 

So last night on my date ... for the first 30 minutes, I had a great time. He admitted within the first five minutes that he’s no Trump fan. I live in Los Angeles, so the “I hate Trump too” is the new coital confession, replacing the hackneyed “Don’t worry, I think my ex passed an AIDS test last year.”

My date and I actually had a lot in common. We both can and did talk about the clean lines of the mid-century esthetic. We chatted about our love of all things vintage whilst sipping on fruity drinks in one of the coolest old school Tiki Bars in the San Fernando Valley. He waxed poetic about the movie Dr. Strangelove, and he really dug that I know that movie like the back of my hand.

I mentioned that my favorite fantasy car is a 1963 Falcon Futura hardtop, and he agreed it was a game changer when it came to America’s eagerness for smaller cars. Christ, that alone almost made me wet.

Then all that goodwill and damp undies was completely wiped out in the last five minutes of our drink, as he casually mentioned three things: his dislike of Muslims, Crooked Hillary, and, last but not least, his anger story about a curvy woman who catfished him out of a drink date when he first started dating online

The truth is he did share a story about being a kid at the Munich Olympics and how he witnessed some of it as his mother was a camera assistant at the games. I don’t need to go into details into what he shared. But obviously it was traumatic for him as it would be for anyone. I respect trauma and the effect it can have on a young psyche. So I can almost give him a pass on the Muslim hatred. Almost.

But when he started on the whole Crooked Hillary theme, throwing in lines like, “If you just did the research on her, you would be appalled!” I’ve done the research — if you wanna call fact checking things on the internet “research." I absolutely agreed she’s flawed, throwing in, "But all politicians are flawed."

He's not having any of it and I bet right up on the deck of his tongue are the words, “Women just vote with their vaginas!”  

I, as a grown-ass woman, see people’s relentless attacks on her through the filter of the misogyny that still to this day tries to weasel its silliness into my thought process.

I rationalized to myself that he did admit he hates Trump and you can’t just shut the door on someone because they have different views than you do. Christ, I just yelled that very thing at one of my kids last week. FYI — when I say yelled, I mean I spoke seriously with a heightened tone. So I can almost give the guy a pass on his Hillary hatred. Almost.

But the anger with which he ridiculed the curvy woman who “catfished” him out of a drink and stole an hour out of his life, saying she hadn’t post enough pics of her entire self — and was just plain unkind about her curves … I just can’t give someone a pass on that. Never.

This is where I became not so smooth.

I ended the date gracefully, which wasn’t hard, as I had explained to him earlier that when first meeting someone from Tinder, one of my rules is to only have one drink.

It’s a great rule. It can be a drink-drink or even just a coffee. It’s the perfect amount of time one needs to see if there’s chemistry, which last night there was ... til the end.

When I got home I made a snarky comment about my Tinder date and his last remarks to me about Muslims, Crooked Hillary and curvy chicks on Facebook.

Within an hour after posting it, I took down my sassy little piece of snark.

Not because he might see it should he snoop on my Facebook. But because a young woman commented that I seemed angry.

Talk about a cold bowl of chili. It made me really think.

The truth is, I wasn’t angry, just bummed that a handsome, interesting, and mature man, with whom I shared chemistry, didn’t understand that putting another woman down in front of a woman he was still trying to impress doesn’t work anymore in today’s world.

You can’t divide us anymore. We are becoming united.

We are starting to thrive because we have each other’s back.

Oh, and I don't just vote with my vagina.

I make cold, hard-ass, sociopathic, game theory-like kill or be killed decisions with my vagina.

Voting is just simply a part of that. Pfft…


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