Ten Tinder Dates (almost)

I’m sitting in the departure lounge at Cape Town International, watching my plane arrive: a Boeing 777-something. I don’t need the numbers to remind me of my luck. I’m wearing a goofy grin on my face as I feel like the girl who took a gamble that led to a grand adventure.

I’ve been to Bali once before but under very different circumstances: two years ago I was a solo traveller, having just sold my business and home in Jo’burg, with time and freedom calling me to embark on a month-long spiritual journey in a tropical island paradise. It was one of the best things I have ever done. This wintry evening, as the Cape clouds grow heavier and I pull my hoodie over my head for some extra warmth, I can’t believe I’m headed back to sun-drenched Bali… this time to meet someone there.

I observe the dapper pilots boarding the plane and it occurs to me that I can thank one of my best friends that I’m here at all. Caity recently married a pilot whom she met through Tinder and for years she’d tried to convince me to sign up to the dating app, but it was a hard sell for her. Our perspectives were polarized: she waxed lyrical about how much fun it is to meet different people and go on various dates; I viewed online dating through a negative lens of apathy bordering on disdain. I thought it carried a sense of desperation.

Then, as life does, it taught me one of its lessons in the effect of simply changing your mind about something…

Once I’d finally had enough of my three-year dating sabbatical and climbed off my high horse, I realized that using Tinder might be a more practical idea than checking out the guys sans wedding bands in yoga class (downward dog pose makes for a bit of an awkward conversation starter…). So I downloaded the flaming pink app onto my phone and uploaded a whole bunch of new men into my life:

My virgin Tinder date was with Jason*, the owner of a car dealership. He was sitting on a couch when I arrived at Harveys Bar in Winchester Mansions to meet him for a drink. As he stood up to greet me I waited for his eyes to reach my level but his head stopped somewhere around my chin… I exclaimed an awkward “Oh!” as I realized I had to bend down to hug him hello. We ordered cocktails and chatted for a while, but that was the height of it. He walked me to my car later and I had a little laugh to myself when he strategically stayed up on the pavement as I walked down on the street, putting us at about the same level. He was a sweet guy and it had been a nice enough introduction to the world of online dating, albeit somewhat short of something. I decided that I liked this idea of getting out there and meeting new people.

Steve* was my second Tinder date: an entrepreneur with a kind and quiet demeanor but also a fun, sporty guy. One date led to a few more and he took me for dinners; movies; vegan ice cream. Then he took me paragliding. Instead of the usual five-minute tourist flight, he took me on an epic adventure around Signal Hill and did some quick tricks that made my adrenaline pump and my stomach flip. When I started feeling queasy he simply landed us on the side of the mountain for a romantic break with a view, before taking off with the wind again and doing some more flips above the ocean. Oh my god, Caity was right… this Tinder thing is so. Much. Fun!!! Steve* went overseas for some time and we eventually lost touch, but I think of him fondly.

The third guy I met through Tinder was good-looking, soft-spoken and serious. He wined and dined me at a fancy Hout Bay restaurant. Dan* works in the film industry so it was super interesting chatting to him about his camera work and behind the scenes stuff; we enjoyed comparing notes on the processes in front of and behind camera. He’s also very health oriented and introduced me to the concept of intermittent fasting – through which he’d clearly lost a lot of weight. The guy I met was a complete transformation from the one in the old photos he used on his profile (I was getting used to the strange thing that occurs when you first meet someone and start to amalgamate their real life persona with the one you’d created in your mind…).

The thing about Tinder is, you never really know who you’re meeting, even if you think you have a fairly good idea of the person’s look or personality. And when you discover there isn’t a spark between you, that doesn’t mean it’s not a fun evening or a valuable interaction. I started researching what Dan* had shared with me about intermittent fasting and incorporated it into my life, with beneficial results and a newfound interest in autophagy.

My fourth Tinder date was with Nigel*, a prominent South African journalist and recovering alcoholic who had told me he’s moving to the UK the following month. We met at the festive Mojo Market in Sea Point where he bought a shawarma and I bought a smoothie bowl to go with our green juices. With a mouth full of food he asked me why I’d agreed to meet him even though he’d told me he’s emigrating, and I realized I was on a roll with these Tinder dates… I didn’t care about future plans; I was enjoying conversing with vastly different and interesting people whom I’d likely not have met outside of this app.

Who would have thought – I loved being Tinderella! I wanted to meet lots of men; maybe document my experiences. I had this idea of writing a blog called Ten Tinder Dates. Or Twelve. Maybe even Twenty at this rate…

Number five was another Dan*, whose business is laundry and whose head seemed to be a washing machine… this guy’s behaviour amused me. We had some banter over Tinder text and arranged a day to meet. That day came… and went. I hadn’t heard a word from him and was curious as to how this would play out. He sent some self-deprecating messages when he only remembered our date the following day and we had a good laugh about it.

We arranged a new date.

He forgot, again.

I sent him a message asking if he thinks he’ll forget to pitch up at the altar one day when he’s getting married. Third time’s a charm (but not particularly charming) and we eventually met at my favourite health café, Nourish’d, for lattes and some deserved sweet treats, on him (not actually on him, that would be weird).

Yet another Dan* made my sixth Tinder meeting. I was a little put off when he reprimanded me for not replying to one of his messages within a few hours, but by now I’d learnt that you can’t make a fair judgement until you’ve met someone in person. He sounded interesting: having sold his business in motorcycles and equipment for bikers, he was now travelling the world. A sporty French guy who hardly spoke a word of English; this also made for an interesting exchange. His texts had me chuckling: “I certainly will be there earlier, I don’t really know Sea Point, I take advantage to seeing you to walk me.” I realized that he wanted to watch me approach; not that he wanted me to walk him around Sea Point, comme un chien.

He turned out to be an amiable guy. His English also turned out to be almost non-existent so we sat at Coco Safar giving each other language lessons over lattes. I spoke my broken French and he spoke his even more broken English and we used the wonders of technology whenever we got stuck on a sentence. I loved practicing my French again. I didn’t love being in the firing line of some hefty halitosis. Sacré bleu.

Lucky number seven on the Tinder train was a Spanish-speaking Italian / Peruvian guy from Jo’burg, Alejandro* (you can bust out with Lady Gaga vocals here; I still do). We met at Mischu for a late morning coffee and red capp and a stroll down the Sea Point prom. The moment in which I met this man I felt a strong energy exchange; some sense of comfort, or knowing, or was it… familiarity? He cracked a playful joke with the baristas that made me laugh. We sat in the sun near the Sea Point pools and chatted for hours and I knew I really liked his strong presence and grounded energy.

My eighth Tinder date was three days later with Myles*, an actor who had lived in China for a few years and we discovered that we’re both signed to the same agency in Cape Town. We met for a beer (him) and a veggie burger (me) at Hudson’s where we chatted for hours about the acting industry. I found him interesting and so impressive when he spoke fluent Mandarin. He’s a really nice guy and I wondered how this would play out, as the next night I was seeing Alejandro* again…

For about a week I went on dates with both of them, which was challenging as I’d forgotten what I’d said to whom in our respective (and lengthy) conversations. I also forgot what I’d worn for which date with which guy and had to devise a system of wearing the same set of clothes on consecutive nights for alternating dates to quell my confusion.

There were some awkward moments when I couldn’t remember if I’d already told one of my dates a particular story; or when I asked him to tell me more about his life in Jo’burg and he had to remind me, “I never lived in Jo’burg.” Oops, wrong guy.

Both of them wanted to take me to the Labia theatre for movies so when I went there with one I was nervous that we’d bump into the other.

An evening spent cooking dinner together had me on my toes as my phone was pinging like a slot machine with Tinder messages and WhatsApps from other guys…

Circular dating is hard work!

But Alejandro* and I had a strong connection that flourished quickly. I felt magnetized by his genuine and enthusiastic character; the way his mind works; his permanent tan and washboard abs that look like they’re ready to go salsa dancing and shout, “Arrrriba!” His voice is so resonant it could command an army or soothe a frightened child. I’m intrigued by his sport of freediving and his ability to hold his breath for five minutes and dive to a depth of forty-two metres below the sea. He loves to cook, doesn’t eat gluten or dairy, sprouts his own mung beans and makes the most ridiculously delicious coconut matcha latte (is this man even real?!).

The Italian stallion ran strides ahead of the pack as we dated for a month and the next thing I knew, he was asking me if I wanted to join him in Bali. Ummm let me think about that…

The night before my flight I watched the film Yes Man – a romantic comedy starring Jim Carrey and Zooey Deschanel. It resembled the transformation that had happened in my own life when I finally relinquished my resistance to online dating and decided to try new things. Now I’m in awe of the magic that happens when you change your mind about something and become a ‘Yes’ person… you open yourself up to so much adventure!

Alejandro* showed me a completely different side of Bali from the one I’d explored as a solo traveller. He threw me in the deep end by convincing me to complete both my Open Water and Advanced scuba diving exams in one intensive crash course so that we could go on a liveaboard diving trip together in Komodo National Park, one of the world’s most beautiful dive sites. I was reluctant at first as I’d had a bad experience learning to dive as a ten-year-old, but when I faced my fear and plunged into that water I discovered one of the most magnificent and numinous experiences in this world. I loved it.

So here I find myself unexpectedly back in Bali with a kind and adventurous man, burning incense on the balcony of our beach bungalow as we lie in a hammock together, looking up at Scorpio in the stars and watching the moonlight dance across the water. I wonder about how warm it is this side of the world; how brightly Jupiter shines; and about how easily this could not have happened if I’d swiped left in a split-second decision.

I never made it to ten Tinder dates. I guess eight was enough. There were more matches with whom I chatted over text and was curious to meet but they didn’t follow through with a date. I also made a few faux pas in my foray: one match turned out to be the interest of a friend (awkward) so I quickly vetoed that meeting. I clumsily ‘Superliked’ a guy friend’s profile by mistake (super awks).

There were a few other dudes I dated briefly in between and whom I’d met in the old fashioned, offline way: through living in the same apartment block; at a bar; and at a mutual friend’s wedding. But online dating has been a fun and profoundly interesting experience that I’m so glad I finally gave a chance. I don’t have ten Tinder stories to share but it has taught me seven salient truths:

1. Life is like a box of chocolates. So is Tinder.

2. There are a lot of guys named Dan* in the world.

3. You cannot ever judge someone by their photos or their texts. Meet them in real life.

4. To change your perception or experience of something, simply change your mind about it.

5. There are a lot of good men out there.

6. Be a Yes person! You’ll have so much fun.

7. You never know, if you swipe right you might just find yourself diving off a boat with sharks and turtles and heart-shaped coral in the Indonesian islands. Or snow skiing together in Japan (my next adventure with Alejandro*…).

I deleted the Tinder app off my phone with a satisfied smile. I hadn’t expected this. Maybe it was beginner’s luck. Maybe the cards were stacked in my favour.

Or maybe, I should just listen more to Caity.

*names have been changed