Tinder Tales: My no-good, very bad first shag after a decade.

Welcome to Tinder Tales, Mamamia‘s series about disastrous dating app experiences. 

Unpleasantly assertive snogging? Handsome foreigners who speak a lot sexier than they shag? None of the Bond girls ever had to put up with this bullsh*t.

Casual dating is total, sloppy, awkward chaos – especially when you’re meeting people on Tinder. But it’s worth doing so for the stories. The worse the date, the better the story.

That is to say, when I go on a shocking date, I’m doing it FOR YOU. Eating, drinking and shagging other human beings (and talking about it afterwards) is essentially MY GIFT TO YOU, people in relationships, friends, and strangers. I am nothing if not selfless.

We will start with the Spaniard.

He was young…er than me. By about 6 years. We met on Tinder, when we both skipped all the usual courting rituals by “swiping right”.

His main photograph was clearly taken during an impromptu steamy beachside photo shoot with some other girl, or awkwardly willing friend. I don’t know how Spaniards do things – perhaps it was his mother who snapped him walking out the surf, flicking his wet hair to one side, and placing his hand suggestively on his ripped torso. He was wearing the type of swimmers you can only reasonably get away with in Europe, so one can only assume this was taken on the beach right before the entire nation shut down for a collective siesta.

Look, judge me for agreeing to go on a date with someone who presents himself to the world like that if you like. For one, I don’t care and for another, I can’t hear you from here.

So, we meet.

I step out of the cab, all moisturised hairless legs and low expectations, and he’s on the phone, speaking Spanish so fast and so passionately, it’s entirely possible there was nobody else on the other end. For all I know, he was reciting an erotic acrostic poem he wrote earlier that day, just to impress me with his torrid foreignness.

Either way, it worked.

Listen: A dating guru has spoken… these are the best pick-up lines to win someone over. Jessie Stephens, Monique Bowley and Mia Freedman discuss them on Mamamia Out Loud. Post continues…

The accent and the accompanying hot Spaniard gestures were elaborate enough for me to overlook the fact that there was not one, but two, cigarettes hanging from his lips. I told you; I’m a generous woman.

We go inside, the Spaniard buys me a drink (“No no, not in my country, not woman, not ever,” he says, when I reach for my wallet) and we commence the Talking To Each Other part of the date.

This is the first date I’ve been on since ending a decade-long relationship, and I’m very nervous, very confused and yet strangely confident (the confidence can only really have come from the shaved legs- long-time monogamy hounds stop doing that kind of thing around the four year mark).

Turns out “You can be sexy English teacher” was not just an opening line. This man is not fluent in English, and so resorts to borderline-Jibberish sentences and rubbing my thigh a lot. The only Spanish word I know is burrito, so our topics of conversation are extremely limited. We have a stilted conversation about paella and Bondi Beach, then leave.

Read: Tinder Tales – The date that was so bad, it made me delete Tinder off my phone for good.

Because of aforementioned smooth-legged confidence, I take this Spaniard home. I make out with him furiously on a park bench in the dark first, OBVIOUSLY. Try before you buy, etc etc. But then, yes, this delicious looking person comes home with me and we have what can only be described as perfunctory intercourse.

Despite his linguistic limitations, he knows the phrase “I’m too big for this condom”.

Which is:

a) A lie, a damned lie.

b) Proven to be logistically impossible by a noble women who put a normal condom on her leg to prove that if it can reach all the way to her knee, it can definitely fit your naughty rhythm stick.

And,

c) A waste of time when we could be getting straight into the full 4 minutes of thrusting and grunting that happened inside and around me as soon as the condom conversation finished.

That happened. He left. I assume we will never see one another again.

Until, that is, I get drunk one night playing board games with my friends and they convince me that the only proper thing is to educate this man about How Sex Is Done To Women Properly, via text message.

It seems like a great idea at the time, I send him a couple of politely worded, heavily euphemistic instructions on how to pleasure a woman, he replies “It will be better next time,” and we never exchange correspondence of any kind ever again.

Fin.

If you have a Tinder Tale of your own you’d like to share, e-mail tindertales@mamamia.com.au