Cheeky Breakfast Tindering

Waiting for today’s first chap: he’s of the faith (tick) has a beautiful cat (tick) is 31 (over 30. Tick) went to a good school (tick) grew up in Hampstead Garden Suburb (tick) but lives in China (why?).
Due to a scheduling mishap, I didn’t make it to the gym in time for my much-anticipated first swim since last April – fourteen months ago. So I’m clad in a swimming costume and a grey cover-up thing emblazoned with a huge parrot, huge floppy straw hat and Jackie O sunglasses. Appear to be a local “character”. Ah well – such is life.
This morning I was watching last night’s Nigeria vs Bosnia match, tweeting about it, sending a potential new flatmate photos of the room, downloading new Fifa World Cup app, tindering. Life is full ATM, so much so that by the time I arrive at the gym I have to leave immediately.
Jewish chap turns out to be nice, tallish and friendly. Unfortunately he is severely afflicted with both jet lag and hay-fever, so, red-eyed, snuffly and drowsy he’s just not with it. A quick iced coffee at the Wet Fish Cafe, a brief stroll round the Farmers’ Market and then we go our separate ways after a kiss on the cheek.
I’m exhausted, I realise, almost unable to keep my eyes open on the train. This compulsive dating is taking its toll: I slept for 7 whole hours last night, a current record, not waking till 7.14am. It’s just not enough sleep for me though: now I have lunch with my parentals and kitten in Hertfordshire, a party in Shenley at 2pm. Then it’s back to the flat, potential flatmate visiting at 5 (at the start of Belgium v Russia – am recording alllll the matches in case of such eventualities) then date at 8pm, at start of USA v Portugal.

No rest for the tindernymph!

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