Date Stats
My Outfit: White silk blouse, black pencil skirt, black heels
His Outfit: A suit
Day: Thursday
Time: 4.45-5.30pm
Overall Rating: 1/10
Dear readers, I should like to preface this post with the sincerest proclamation that the following events happened as stated. Condolence flowers and chocolates will be accepted, especially chocolates with strawberry cream in the middle, k thanks bye.
You think I’d let a little thing like heartbreak and considering setting myself on fire stop me from Tindering? Get outta Harvard Yard. Boston Tinder is dead to me. Actually. (It’s infinitely more comforting to just assume they died a sudden death when they disappear).
(After a week of self-pity) I got right back on the Tinder horse. A photo of Damien Lewis with the text NOT THIS, BUT CLOSE. AND BETTER. written over it caught my eye.
As some of my friends have pointed out, it was perhaps extraordinarily foolish to swipe right to someone who posts no picture of themselves and whose tagline only reads ‘Ivy Leaguer’. It sort of screams Patrick Bateman.
This being said, Damien Lewis is in my top five CILF’s (after Cumberbatch and Idris Elba) and I assumed Married Tinder must be hot because it would be extremely embarrassing for him to talk himself up like that if he wasn’t.
Anyway, we matched.
I’m not a TOTAL fool and so the first thing I asked was for him to send me a photo. You can’t send photos via Tinder so I casually threw my number across to the potential murderer and seconds later received a photo. He was HOT. Seriously. One of those faces that just looks all smirky and confident, but also symmetrical. All the things.
He asked me to send him a photo (weird since he already had seen FIVE on Tinder) so I did. Then he insisted I call him. It was a little bizarre and so I said:
No.
After a bit of an argument he said:
I don’t think you are real and I would like to make sure you are not a man before we continue this conversation.
I was so flattered, I called him immediately.
We had a strange phone call that lasted about 5 seconds. I said ‘Hi, I’m real’ and he said ‘Hi, OK thanks’ and then hung up.
I immediately received a text suggesting drinks on the coming Thursday.
He asked the earliest I could meet and I told him 4.30pm, in Midtown. He told me to meet him at Flute Bar at 4.45pm.
I was a little confused as to why we were meeting so early, and how a guy who worked in finance (yup, yup, everyone on Tinder) could get off work in the early afternoon but this was very convenient for me so I decided not to push it.
Flute Bar is a champagne bar in Midtown and I can honestly say it is the seediest place I have ever been. You have to walk down a flight of stairs to get to the entrance and once you are inside, there are little tables hidden away behind velour curtains that can be closed for discretion. To my right was an old man in a suit and a wedding ring with a very young Asian lady (no wedding ring). When I glanced in their direction the man quickly closed the curtains surrounding their table and they disappeared into obscurity to do god knows what.
I spotted Married Tinder at one of the open tables (no velour curtains, thankfully) and went over to say hi. We ordered champagne (hurrah!) and got to know each other a little better. He was very sexy, and totally your stereotypical ‘hot finance guy’. I knew right away this probably wasn’t going to turn into a long-lasting relationship but I also was very attracted to him and envisioned a summer fling where we might sunbathe on a yacht, drinking champagne and counting money.
During our text conversation he had mentioned that his phone was an Android, so I was a little confused when he said something about his ‘iPhone’.
I said, ‘I thought you used an Android?’
He suddenly got a little weird and shifty. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Yes, I do. I have two phones actually. So before this goes any further I have to tell you that I’m married. I use the Android for Tinder so that my wife doesn’t see it.’
…?
I’ll be completely honest with you, I was more weirded out by the fact that he had a separate phone for Tindering than I was by the fact that he was married.
It also transpired that his name was not what he had told me and that he did not in fact work for the finance company he had told me during our text conversation. He had lied about everything and I was basically sitting and drinking champagne with a total stranger. A married stranger.
In addition to this, he refused to tell me anything about himself in case I somehow found his wife and told her that he was on Tinder.
I’d like to tell you I threw the champagne in his face and walked outta that joint, but I stayed (largely out of curiosity). The whole situation was so strange.
Anyway, he assured me he was happily married, just not happily monogamous. (MEN ‘R’ PIGS.)
We didn’t really have much to say to each other after that, and we left as soon as we had finished our glasses of champagne.
He insisted on not walking out together ‘in case somebody saw him’, so we said goodbye in the seedy bar and I left, hugely relieved that we did not have to make awkward small talk on our way to the subway.
So… not The One. But also not a murderer… just married… yay?
Tinderella 