“I’m finishing my course at 2pm in Regents Park,” Kurt the German texts.
“Meet me at the Zoo?” I reply.
“Great,” he texts back. “Is that in Regents Park?”
“Indeed. We can see the tiger cubs. Do you like tiger cubs?” I say, as if anyone would say ‘no, I think they’re horrible smelly things. Those black and orange stripes make me dizzy and those huge paws are ugly. And those massive blue eyes are saucers of doom.’
“I like tiger cubs,” he replies.
“I will be wearing a short multicoloured flowery dress,” I text back.
“Do you really want to see the animals ;)” he fires back.
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Why don’t we go to a hotel at Heathrow?” He texts.
“Seriously? I am a bit offended. I’m not a prostitute. Hotel at Heathrow indeed!” I reply.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he replies.
“Look, young man, the whole romance about hotels is the location and history of the hotel. So an afternoon at the Ritz or a weekend at the Cipriani conjure up happy images of decadence and luxury. The Premier Inn at Heathrow, however… Just no.”
“Ok. Lesson learnt. Sorry.” He replies.
In the end his course doesn’t finish in time and we don’t meet, but hopefully next time he won’t suggest ‘hotel at Heathrow’ to someone so his course in England will have taught him at least one thing.
Checking Tinder, there is a new message, from a chap called Simon who I’ve matched with recently. We haven’t yet been in contact. This is his first message to me:
“Hi there just to be direct (and perhaps a little forward) I am not looking for anything serious on here. I think you are gorgeous and sexy and I would like to please you. I like pleasing with my tongue. I like tasting a girl and hearing her moan when my head is between her legs. Tell me if you want to hear more.”
Is there something about my fully-clothed photo where I am standing next to a triceratops that invites these sort of attentions, I wonder as I decide what to do. Simon has his top off in his photo, I notice, but surely no-one deserves a message like this when they open Tinder and are having a quick read over their porridge and coffee at 9am. There must be a ‘report user’ button. I find the ‘report user’ button and click it and then click ‘unmatch Simon’.
‘Are you sure that you want to permanently unmatch Simon?’ Tinder asks me.
‘Yes’ I click.
Now, at last it’s the weekend and I’m spending some time with my family and my kitten. And the knockout matches are starting today. Happy weekend everyone.