How tough is it to be an old romantic in today’s instant Tinder generation.
So I am tired of answering the same question asked repeatedly by my mother, friends, random strangers, wedding nobodies and the gold fish. “Why am I not dating?” According to general perception, modern apps and social networking means single women like me should not exist. And because I do happen to exist, happily, it has been a cause for much worry. I should not happen.
Neo in the Matrix of dating world
I met a man once. I couldn’t recognise him on FB so never accepted his friend request. There ended my relationship very prematurely. A hot girlfriend of mine can’t find a repeat date because she borrowed her vocal chords from the rodent family. So getting to the point of why I am single, it’s because the world is changing way too fast, with just a tap of my fingers, and I can’t keep up. The same world looks different on Facebook, then it changes on Instagram, and now SnapChat is just bizarre. Hilarious and entertaining, but still bizarre.
Testing my imagination
It’s not easy. Trust me, when I am sitting at a table, waiting for a date, I am constantly looking around to try and spot the man resembling the photo on my phone. I am praying he is not a grainy, monochromatic object. I am praying there’s no beer belly because a full length shot is missing from his profile. Is he pink? Ochre? Does he scribble really uncool words in dirty handwriting on his SnapChat? It’s not easy, because I just don’t know, what’s really beneath those filters.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
I look pretty on Facebook. I actually have a good 5 kgs more than what Instagram will show you. In reality, I have a fast-growing bald patch. I can’t pout to save my life because I have too puffy cheeks. I laugh too loud, which can be annoying or surprising, depending on how fast you want the date to end. Apparently the top shot selfie does amazing things to my figure, and hides the double chin. Damn that mirror, everything else will tell you, I am the prettiest of them all.
What about filters like acne and odour?
You see, I have a problem. I can’t talk to a large, pink, pimple instead of a face. Neither can I sit beside a garbage dump with bad breadth. You think I am mean? Well, if you want a repeat date, or sex, put in some effort. Take a shower, put on fresh clothes and maybe you will get lucky. I know your mom told you that you’re God’s re-incarnation, but I need proof. Unfortunately, these dating apps don’t have a hygiene filter. Too bloody bad.
Wake me up, when Tinder ends
Where is the romance? Nobody is too jaded for roses, too old to eat ice cream out of the same bowl, too cynic to read out poetry. I am at a stage where most of my friends are in a relationship or getting married. And it’s beautiful. Nowadays, the first and foremost filter, is how good one’s profile photo is. A date with a person with whom the only connection is that both of us swiped right is just so mundane. So utterly, magnificantly boring. I am on the wrong side of boring, and I am done doing boring. Let’s jazz up my life, let’s join Hinge.
At the end of the day, I don’t date, because I’m not my virtual profiles put together. We don’t dig real anymore.
This blog was published here by DNA on June 6, 2016