Tinderella is a biweekly feature on Kettle where our resident Tinderella shares her stories of dating, love, dumping and sex. Billie (pseudonym) is our third Tinderella to write for Kettle. You can also read about our other Tinderella’s Aoife and Becca.
Introducing Billie
Hello!
Welcome to the often weird, sometimes wonderful and, according to my friends, downright hilarious tales of my dating life.
I am Billie Farnaby, and I am your very own, brand new Tinderella.
This will be a warts (not that kind, condoms are my friend) and all account of being single. No sugar coating, no romanticizing, and no shame.
I like sex. Quick sex, slow sex, dirty, sweaty, headboard banging sex. And I’m a girl. I’m not trying to controversial, provocative or laddish, just honest.
I have been known to track down potential dates on social media. Over-analysing any form of communication received is my specialty. I have had one night stands and I have been in long-term loving relationships. My magic number is somewhere around the same as my age. I’m in my thirties.
Sometimes I go on Tinder just for a little ego boost. Although I tell myself that I won’t have sex on a first date, I ALWAYS shave my legs ‘just in case’. I have a guy who sends me dick-pics now and again. I quite like it. Sometimes I reciprocate with a naughty pic of my own. That same guy sends me the filthiest text messages I have ever seen. I quite like that too. Sometimes I have sex with him.
Sometimes I watch porn, and enjoy it. I have sex toys, and I enjoy those too. I like being the little spoon. I like being bought flowers. I sometimes fake my orgasms just to get it over with. Some of the best orgasms of my life were with someone I hardly knew, and I never saw him again afterwards.
If you can’t say ‘me too’ to at least one of the above, welll… I’m not sure this is the place for you. Unless you’re happy living vicariously through me, in which case, read on!
But I can guarantee that most of you will identify with something on the list.
Nothing on that list is, or should be shameful.
Let’s talk about a date, shall we?
This was a Tinder date. We’d chatted for a few days and seemed to have a lot in common – Both Game of Thrones nerds, both big readers and his opening line was a terrible joke… always a winner for me.
He volunteered that he was on Tinder for dating rather than just hooking up, which was another big tick, and when he asked me out for a drink, I accepted happily.
He lived about 40 miles from me, and as I drive and am not a big drinker, I offered to head over to his city to meet.
On the big day, I got a message asking if we were still on for that night. I did a little happy dance inside because THIS meant he was keen, and excited to meet. I spent the rest of the day with that lovely butterfly feeling, trying to choose what to wear, working out where to park my car, and unable to decide whether a kiss on the cheek when we first meet is a bit forward.
I felt nervous, that kind of nervous where you’ve got a ridiculous grin plastered on your face. I was already imagining our second date, and working out where in my city I would take him. It hadn’t even occurred to me that tonight wouldn’t go well.
That, I’m afraid, was to be my downfall…
What was about to happen is every daters nightmare…
For me, this is worst case scenario as far as dates are concerned.
I arrived in the bar a little early, sat myself down with a drink where I could see the door, and waited. And waited, and waited and waited.
Twenty minutes after we were supposed to meet, my phone buzzed.
“Where are you?”
“Shit” I thought. Was I in the wrong place?! A quick check of our messages confirmed that nope, I wasn’t in the wrong place.
I hastily replied that I was where we had arranged to meet, and asked where he was. You may know that Tinder has a handy feature that tells you how far away your match is, and on this occasion, it told me that the invisible man was several miles away.
No reply. I kept on waiting.
Another ten minutes passed, and I was seriously annoyed. The location feature on Tinder was still telling me he was nowhere near, and I was losing hope that he had left his phone somewhere / was being held up helping an old lady cross the road / been abducted by aliens.
One more message telling him that I was leaving in 5 minutes…
Still nothing.
I waited 10.
Luckily, the bar was pretty quiet, so the only pitying looks I had to endure were those of the lone barman and Han Solo from his poster on the wall opposite.
Off I skulked, back to my car for the long drive home, feeling rejected, pathetic and lonely…
Things I learnt from this date:
- Don’t get carried away.
- Men are sometimes arseholes (but so are women)
- Maybe a written contract is a good idea before driving halfway across the country to meet them.
- Nobody should have the power to make you feel like I felt driving home that night.
I know, I promised to tell you about a date. Bit of a cheat there, sorry about that. My next piece will be about a date that actually showed up. Though in hindsight, I kinda wish he hadn’t…
Have you ever been stood up? It’s awful isn’t it! Tell me your worst date stories…
Until next time, happy swiping.
Billie xxx
