You’d be surprised who you could run into on Tinder. Some people find their friends from school, some match with a brother or cousin of someone they know. Woe betide those of us who find their OWN brother or cousin on the dating site. Me, I found someone a little more exciting.
Kieran and I matched, got talking, and it turned out we lived on the same street, just in different housing estates. He was from Limerick (anyone Irish will recognise the potential danger, but he was a “fine upstanding gentleman”, in his own words) and had moved to Dublin recently for work. Kieran was looking for friends, and Tinder seemed the way to go. After chatting for a few days, we seemed to have gotten on very well and the chances of a meet-up seemed pretty good.
When I found him again on Plenty of Fish a few days later (I take my online dating quite seriously, thank you) with his intention listed as wanting a relationship, I truly thought I had hit the big time. Unfortunately, something kept getting in the way.
Timing is everything
We were both just that little bit too busy to, you know, actually see each other. He worked a pretty routine nine to five, Monday to Friday, near a local shopping centre. I worked as a coffee girl in the airport, meaning I could start as early as half three, and my closing shift could be anything up to half past ten at night. I’d also rarely had a weekend to myself in the time since I’d started work there. Time was not on our side.
One night, he bit the bullet and asked me for dinner. By some miracle, I was free that evening, having taken the early shift that day. Plus, I hadn’t eaten. What harm could it do? I sent him a text back to accept, and asked where he’d like to go.
“We can do it at mine. Mine is the house with the silver Kia outside.”
I have a thing about going to someone’s house on a first date. First dates are meant to be adventurous, where you frequent new restaurants (or just go to Nandos) and try new things. It’s not meant to be a breeding ground for Netflix and chill. However, with promises of him cooking me a lasagne (he picked up on my favourite food, clever guy) and to send me on my merry way at a reasonable hour, I accepted. Again.
Dinner was lovely. We did get on as well as we had in cyperspace, and he made a very good lasagne. By dessert, talk turned to where we would end up next. Kieran had one idea. It was completely the opposite of my idea, but somehow I expected it.
“But that’s what I’m looking for from this, didn’t you know?” Not based on his POF account, I reminded him. “Ah yeah, that’s to get people to talk to you. I’m just out of a relationship, I don’t want to date anyone right now.”
A few months later, after cutting contact with Kieran when we realised we weren’t looking for the same thing, I spotted him sitting in the corner of the Chinese restaurant at the top of our street. He wasn’t dining alone, and they were doing the typical date thing of holding each other’s hand across the dinner table.
It made me think; when there’s so many guys that tell you they’re not looking for a relationship, does that just mean he’s not looking for one with you?
With guys like this, I’m not too sure that’s a bad thing.