WELCOME TO TINDERLAND
Where unlike Vegas, what happens here gets spread all over the interwebs.
so Tinderland has some *ahem* unique folk wandering it's fertile grounds, and I was matched with one whose prose was more like poetry. We'll call him "RR" for Renaissance Romeo. Here are just a few delightful excerpts from our tinder-messaging:
"I speak three languages; English, Joy and Appreciation."
"Appreciation is the fuel by which all relationships thrive and ascend. Find a way to consistently appreciate those who you share heartspace with and it is amazing what occurs."
"Then before your head prepares to caress the pillow, please allow me to say thank You; I appreciate You for writing, being playful and setting off a very sweet spark within. I wish You a peaceful night's rest. "
I quickly determined I could never date someone who spoke so ridiculously, but also that I needed to meet RR to see if he spoke suchly and thusly in person, or if he was just a regular guy masquerading as a wanna-be Shakepeare. I felt a little deceptive leading him on like that, but inquiring minds wanted to know! And by inquiring minds, I mean me and my friends. ...And by me and my friends, I mean mostly me.
We tinder messaged for a while, then switched to text message, and still his words were more like a sonnet than the usual text abbreviation/shorthand "hyd" (how ya doin) "LMFAO ur funny" "laughing my fucking ass off, you are funny" "ttyl" (talk to you later) that one sometimes gets.
Finally we spoke on the phone, and I was a little disappointed that RR spoke like a regular dude, with the exception of a word here or there. I had gotten to the point that I was really hoping that he would confabulate in iambic pentameter. Alas, he did not. He did, however, finally make good on his tinder profile where he espouses his ability to make people laugh. I legit belly-laughed at least four times. Maybe this guy could be a good match after all...
And then... the other shoe dropped. I have written in my profile that I am looking for a guy who is 5'11" or taller, and RR asked if that was a deal breaker. It isn't totally, but it kind of is. My "research" into this Tinder-rrific gentleman and what he is like in person had gone this far, so of course I said, "No! I've dated guys shorter than that. I just usually am attracted to taller men." To which he replied, "Well I'm an inch taller than you, I'm 5'8"." The possibility that RR might actually be a keeper poofed away as quickly as it was created. "Oh, well, you're taller than me. I'm sure that's fine!"
We meet for coffee the next day, and not only is RR mistaken about his height (he's maybe 5'7" if he stands up super straight), but the shirtless pic of himself he posted was clearly from when he used to go to the gym. But he is charming, sweet, funny, and I find myself having a great time! And then... I see his hands. His little, tiny, baby-hands. Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I cannot. I just. CAN. NOT. do baby hands. Little chicklet fingernails and tiny digits that are only good for needlepoint and other small crafts or maybe for making sweatshop clothing. But I am on this coffee date, so I just try to keep my eyes up.
And, oh god, there's more. RR has a daughter. Who is 24. Who is only three years younger than his last girlfriend. Who is like totally Mensa genius level smart. And who supports herself as a semi-nude model. But her modeling is all really tasteful. And he is so proud. Of his semi-nude-model-mensa-daughter.
RR's career is befitting such a Unique dude. He helps people with SOUL EXPANSION. What the fuck is that? I don't know. I would have asked (ya know, "research") but I was fairly certain I would dissolve into a fit of giggles and that's just rude. I'm not sure why I care about that... When he had previously alluded to his job in our phone conversation, I was so thankful we weren't facetiming or skyping, as I had to hold the phone away and stifle laughs when he told me. He's a rambler, so it was fine that I couldn't reply due to stomach spasms. He just talked on and on about how amazing he is.
I genuinely began to regret the resarch-date when RR asked if we could "go deeper." and would I like to "lead the dance" or shall he? *cue another involuntary stomach spasm and herculean effort to keep a straight face* This is when RR began to espouse his "brilliant" thoughts on soul expansion, loving, relationships, etc. I truly learned his love of his own voice and theories at this point, when he rambled on and on for about a half hour or forty-five minutes about who-knows-what *cue glazed eyes and insipid smile* needing no response save open eyes and a heartbeat from his conversation partner.
The next day I was racked with guilt/didn't want to play this game anymore and texted him to "break up". He tried extensively to convince me that I would grow to love him over time. I had to tell him 8 ways to Sunday that I just wasn't into him, without mentioning his delusions on his height, his incessant ramblings and his teensy-itty-bitty-baby-hands. It was exhausting.
I've only heard from him once since, just to text hello. And if I never hear from RR again it will be
“Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!”
