Hating on Dating

It’s official – I am on a self-imposed man-diet.

Hopefully it’s just a temporary glitch (and I have plenty of matter to keep you entertained in the interim). While this means that instead of swiping I’m spending my time reading novels and painting bar stools (rock n roll lifestyle, I know!), this break from the Tinderverse has given me an insight into why people become bitter, twisted haters of dating.

Here are the reasons I’ve become disillusioned with dating:

Money can’t buy butterflies

Although I’ve said that money/power are important when it comes to winning a girls attention, the truth is the lure of wealth/status wears off pretty fast. Take for instance, the sweet guy who drives across town to meet you, takes you out to the swankiest Cape Town eateries and pays you sooooo many compliments that you feel like a supermodel BUT the fact is after just a few days of knowing the dude you find yourself irritated by his mere existence.

Just to make it clear. He smokes like a chimney in your face, ruins your all-time favourite movie (who really needs to over-analyse Bridget Jones?) and defines you by the fact that you are ‘vegetarian’ (is it too much to ask that someone be attracted to me for more than just my eating habits?). These are things you might turn a blind eye to, that is, if you were somewhat interested.

When it comes to chemistry, it’s either there or not. No amount of wishful thinking can make it magically appear. Even giving the girl everything her heart desires can’t buy a foot-popping kiss. Maybe it’s just time to face the truth, those broke-ass bad boys have dibs on the butterflies.

Double Parking Disaster

You’re feeling smug as you’re about to pull off the ultimate Double Parking stunt. Not just attempting to meet two guys in the same night but you’ve masterminded an epic plan to get them in the same room and same time (aka using the good guy to make the bad boy that you like like jealous).

Sadly, like most things in life, it doesn’t go to plan. Turns out that you are too busy schmoozing and forget the plan entirely. Oh, and the bad boy, he turns the tables on you and flirts with every other women in the room.

It seems that your skillsssss aren’t as good as you thought, hey?

Friend Zone Fail

You ‘cleverly’ get involved with someone knowing that there is a definite end in sight (he is leaving town at the end of the week – yayers!). In your silly little head, it all makes perfect sense. But then the dude starts referring to you as his ‘girlfriend’ and asking whether you’d consider a long distance relationship. Been there, done that and despite his smoking hot good looks (which account for it lasting half a decade), it still failed so that’s a NO from me.

This dumb-ass however cannot comprehend that you are just not that into him. Despite the fact that you a) talk about how gorgeous your ex was, b)  get excited about an OAP coming to your party, and c) tell him that he’d make a brilliant boyfriend… for SOMEONE ELSE, he still doesn’t gauge that he is friend-zoned.

And there you were thinking you were a pro at this. It seems not, so you’re left feeling like the A-Grade Biatch.  

Lies Glorious Lies

And the final straw – that Silver Fox/Elderly Troll you’ve been crushing on and who had the audacity friend/daughter zone a pretty YOUNG thing like you (yes seriously!). Well it turns out he actually lied about his age. He has now gone from being old enough to be your father to more like a grandfather. What a joke!

To make matters worse. Despite his lies, fashion faux pas‘ and his inability to commit anything (yup, can’t even agree to a party invite or a fling), the banter is still better than it is with all the other idiots out there.

Finally, when you put all these factors together spending two hours stuck in Standard Bank with your ex looks like the equivalent of a two week vacation in the Maldives. Clearly, its time to have a KitKat.

So there you have it – my reasons for joining the nunnery. Share your words of inspiration in the comments below so maybe I can rediscover my love for my Tinder boys, sooner rather than later…