The Bumble Run – Part 1

Upon first becoming single, I decided to try, for the first time, dating apps — and I would have taken help from any deity willing.

I downloaded three apps: Tinder, Bumble and happn.

I have to assume a certain level of knowledge here, and shall simple say that Bumble is like Tinder, but women have to speak first (can someone tell me how this works for non-hetero searches on Bumble?) and happn is again similar, but you have to pass within 250m of your mark. Errr – potential match.

I began swiping on each of them, but began having a bit more luck on Bumble. So that’s where I focussed my efforts to begin with.

The dates began. We had Vegan Boy (that didn’t last past the first date) and Craft Beer Boy (neither did that),  there was an interesting invitation from an Australian gentleman that involved his fire and a rug in front of it, but sadly that had to take a backseat when family called.

There were some fascinating invitations for threesomes the next day (an experience not limited to Bumble, I might add); and I met El Macho. A Mexican guy who Mexi-CAN… well, sort of.

Whilst using the app, I had been showing one of the gents at work who is a little older than me how it works. We’d recently been talking about chat up lines. As my profile(s) will tell you, I’m a sucker for cheesy chat up lines (as well as puns and dad jokes). And I came out with what is my all-time favourite chat up line of all time. To date, it has a 20% success rate in replies – but all of those dates have ended up going well, so I’d say it weeds out people who don’t have a similar sense of humour. So apologies for those of a nervous disposition, because you may want to skip the next line.

The line is thus: If I were trapped in an ice cream igloo… would you lick me out?

For what it’s worth, my sense of humour resides in the gutter. Clearly. So was El Macho’s.

We met for a drink near to my office, and after a few shaky drinks and some bad Spanish (from me), we went outside to smoke and he kissed me. He ended up back at mine… and this was awkward, for two reasons.

  1. Housemate was at home, decided to walk past my room whilst El Macho was there, and then decided that he couldn’t hack it, so spent the rest of the evening (after El Macho had left for his own bed) crying on my shoulder about it.
  2. El Macho is very macho, incredibly pretty, and like the Duracell bunny. What he’s not, sadly, is gifted in what to do with anything. A++ for effort and energy, but that was doing almost nothing for me.

That said, my relatively low self-esteem and a lack of interest with the festive season approaching convinced me that he should come home with me another two times before Christmas. He went to his family, I went back to mine, and I didn’t hear from him again until June. I didn’t reply.

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