SS from Mumbai writes about several Tinder dates. Such a fun read!
Day 30 of 100 Indian Tinder Tales
“I kept hearing from everyone that Tinder is infested with the creeps of the world – that it was impossible to leave that dimension without being touched (pun intended) by a creep monster. I might be in the 0.1 percent of the Indian Tinder sisterhood who’ve had fabulous company, cherished friends and an entire wave of interesting men staying far beyond a night.
One of the first conversations I had on Tinder was also one of the most intense. We were texting away for nights on end, the terrible UI not withstanding. When I met A the first time, we decided to meet at Starbucks for a quick hot chocolate. I frowned.
“Hot chocolate and run,” he replied.
I went with it but we never ran. We were as immersed in conversation in person as we were on text. We gave the barista mythological names for our order. I’m unlikely to forget the moment when the barista yelled, “A GRANDE HOT CHOCOLATE WITH WHIPPED CREAM FOR DURYODHAN!”
Our laughter was too unbearable for the corporate life around us and we exited, two very happy people. We never apologised to the barista.
When I met N, I was a little nervous. We were meeting at a rooftop restaurant where the weather gave me no reason to sweat. What does the fucking weather know about meeting ridiculously pretty men? N and I talked about a lot of things on chat – imaginary LOTR and Game of Thrones crossovers, our favourite acts from music festivals and a lot of Carl Sagan. He sounded driven, intelligent and handsome. The elevator opened and he walked towards me in a simple black shirt and framed black glasses that dimmed his unusually bright eyes. I looked at the mirror suddenly realised I was meeting Zeus in khakis.
Towards the end of the night, he did something very reassuring. I get very uncomfortable when people fight over bills at the end of good evening. Gender should have nothing to do with food. I wanted to get the bill and as I reached for it, I saw N move to stop me, but he decided against it. Instead, he waited till the bill was in my hand, leaned in and asked, “I’d really like to pay for tonight. Will you be alright with that?”
Involving me in the decision without being overbearing was very gentlemanly and mature. Zeus and I continue to visit rooftops, sans the nervousness.
I honestly had no idea why I swiped right for K. Maybe because he didn’t try too hard on Tinder? His bio was so careless, it was almost adorable. We had average chats and meeting him wasn’t an active thought. He invited me to his house party one day.
“Imma turn up in my pjs, K,” I told him.
“PJs are hot. Turn up,” he said.
Which I did only to find his home full of women in gowns and men in ties. WHO WEARS GOWNS AND TIES TO A HOUSE PARTY FFS? I held my head and pjs high and walked in. I mistook a guy standing at the door for K.
“Umm, I’m not K. He’s inside,” said friend.
To think I almost made out with the wrong guy.
When I did find K, I noticed he was in pjs too, listening to Arctic Monkeys and eating bacon. I swiped right again.
In a room of 30 odd people, K and I stole time every few minutes to talk to each other. He welcomed my friends who’d gatecrashed the party later. Soon, our friend circles were lost in mutual affection and tequila. He asked me if he could kiss me and tequila and I slurred yes. I even enjoyed being hungover with him in the morning, united in our mutual love for nihilism and breakfast. The least “interesting” of my Tinder dates turned out to be the funnest one.”