So it has obviously been a ludicrous amount of time since my last entry. Who starts a blog, writes two posts and then leaves it for five months!?
Well…apparently I do.
Whilst I could make many excuses as to why I have failed in
keeping track of my Murphy’s Law existence, the truth of the matter is this;
this blog and I have a relationship much like the one I have with my gym – it
takes all the will in the world to get me started, the process is mentally
taxing and often sweat inducing, and in the end, I’d rather be sitting sprawled
on my sofa indulging in a shed load of carbs and watching ugly people shag like
rabbits on Jersey Shore.
However, I vowed when I started this blog, to write it no
matter how long the interludes, and no matter how shameful the stories. So with
all that said, I suppose it is time for an update!
The great news is I have finally wangled myself a job
working at a major record label in London. I should state that before you all
break open the bubbly, which is exactly what I did when I was given the job,
the comedown from Simon Cowell shaped mirages is a swift one when on your first
day you realize you’re actually going to be making tea and burning CD’s for
those who are a million steps closer to Simon than you will ever be. The truth
is, the closest I will come to the man himself, is watching him on XFactor on a
Saturday night like every other sod in this town. BUT on the plus side, I’m in
a bloody lively office with lots of people my age, listening to unreleased
music and blagging tickets to any show in London I want. Considering I also
spend most of my day ordering Addison Lee’s for the disgustingly rich and
famous, it also seems only fair to allow myself the perk of ordering taxis home
on the company using their secret passwords. Didn’t think that one through did
they!? SO all in all, we’re off to a good start.
The man situation however is not so fruitful. Thankfully I
haven’t spent the last five months a born-again-virgin, though it was looking
like it was headed that way for a while. No, you will be pleased to hear that
there have been some summer snogs and sexual deviance these past few months,
none of which praise the lord, has been wholly embarrassing either. Aside from
one instance that is, whereby myself and the lucky guy in question were
mid-tryst when his lonesome dog decided to join us for a spot of voyeurism. If
you think trying to ride a guy whilst a pooch stares at you isn’t bad enough, then
how about the moment it jumps on the bed and starts humping your partner’s leg?
And we thought putting on a condom was the biggest passion killer facing us in
the bedroom...
Still, at least it was his leg and not mine; it’s the little
things in life.
But as we know, Autumn is now well and truly upon us, and
despite myself being more than happy with my summer dalliances being nothing
more than that, I am now very aware that Winter is this way headed which in a
city like London means only one thing; hibernation. Within a few weeks, all
those coupled up friends that I spent many a summer evening in beer gardens or
parties with shall most certainly retreat together to their warm abodes,
preferring to see in the cold nights tucked up in bed with a DVD and a take
away, but not before they’ve sent me a text to tell me to have a good night.
SO where do I go from here? In all fairness I could stay in
and be a responsible human being, waking up smug, sans hangover on a Saturday
but let’s be honest, that’s one affirmative step into spinsterhood that I’m
just not going to take. I mean how are we meant to meet a man and become part
of the couples hibernation club if we’re home eating our bodyweight in Humous
instead of peacocking ourselves at the busiest party spot?
Well dear friends, I am overjoyed to tell you that there might
in fact be a happy medium in our midst, yes that’s right, the happy medium we
fondly now call; Tinder. For those of you that haven’t been exposed to the
gritty underbelly of single social networking, Tinder is the heterosexual version
of the now infamous Grinder iPhone app. Pulling photos from your Facebook
profile, it allows you to see single people -you’d hope though I’ve heard many
story to the contrary- within your area, who you charmingly reject or like
based solely on their looks. Some have called it depressingly superficial, I
however, call it genius. Heralded by The Times as ‘more addictive than crack’,
I have now wiled away more hours than I care to mention being brazenly rude
about strangers, and strikingly up oddly flirtatious conversations with others,
knowing full well that the only reason we’re talking is that we’d most likely
want to have sex with each other if we were to meet in real life. And that is
where the real beauty of this soon to be million pound making app lies.
Gone are the ‘FOMO’ nights (you know the ones- fear of
missing out) where you fight every instinct telling you to stay at home, in the
hope that ‘that guy’ or even ‘A guy’ will be where you’re headed. Gone are the
hours of dolling yourself up and schlepping across your city in the bitter cold
just so you may or may not end up having a kiss with someone who doesn’t even
take your number before disappearing into the mire. No, what we are dealing
with here is the technological reality that you can give the thumbs up to
someone’s face from the comfort of your home (and your pyjamas) before deciding
whether or not they’re worthy of all the above effort, and therefore meeting
them for a date.
This is modern dating at its most time and effort-efficient
best.
So as this flag flyer for the Tinder generation I’m sure
people are wondering how my dates have gone so far. Well, to be truthful, they
haven’t. As a newbie to the Tinder scene – and frankly one who’s always going
to assume everyone I meet in the cyber sphere is a rapist until proven
otherwise- I haven’t actually been on a Tinder date as yet. But for the sake of this blog and for that of
my inner hibernator I have this very evening in fact secured myself a date with
William, (26, 3 mile radius, likes The Black Keys) for next week.
Will we have fun? Here’s hoping. Will he look like his
pictures? He better do. Will I carry a rape alarm? Most definitely.
Whatever the outcome I shall be sure to keep you all updated
and in the meantime you can count on one thing; if it’s a success and this guy
ends up being my lobster, we’re definitely going to lie about how we met.
