Welcome to Tinder Tales, Mamamia‘s series about disastrous dating app experiences.
I feel like your life is at its lowest point when you install an app called ‘Fake-A-Call Free’, and intend to use it genuinely.
I fumble with my toiletry bag, pretending to look for a condom. My goal? Convince my lady friend that I’m VIGOROUSLY looking for a condom, by making loud and unidentifiable noises. Drop toiletry bag on floor. Kick over bin. Turn on shower. In the distance, sirens…
Basically create a string of sounds that signify I’m trying EXTRA hard to find a contraceptive of some sort. When really I’m buying time. Stalling. Stalling for just long enough to schedule a fake call on my new app, but not long enough for the nude woman on the bed of my hostel room to become suspicious, and come knocking on the bathroom door which I have valiantly locked myself behind.
Rewind a lil’ bit… I’m in Greece. A born and bred Sydney boy, midway through a solo trip around Europe. Solo. And let me be crystal clear right from the word go: I have no problem with solo. In fact I prefer it. But every second or third day I do feel that some form of human interaction is required, however minimal. Somewhere between walking through Mykonos town, praying my rental vespa doesn’t die going uphill, and watching An Idiot Abroad on Netflix, I do feel guilty for being a recluse.
“Go and meet people or your time here will be a waste,” my gut says. “STFU gut,” I say.
But my anti-social nature is eventually drowned out, and overcome by guilt. Sigh. I need to go and meet some new people.
Problem though: People are mean. Especially young people. If only there were a social platform through which I could meet people without having to put on a shirt or get out of bed… a platform through which I could superficially judge other singles without having to speak a word. A platform through which people can only speak to me if they WANT to have sex. A platfo-