Creative Writing Local

The Tinder Chronicles Part 1: Your Majesty

Words by: Beth Commons


My first Tinder date was a boy one year younger than me who was unaware of my boyfriend. I didn’t tell him because I couldn’t be bothered explaining what an open relationship was to him, and I knew deep within me that he wouldn’t be okay with it.

We met in the city, although he had asked to meet at my house. I didn’t want to meet him at my house because I didn’t want to explain to him why there were men’s clothes strewn all about my bedroom.

He was eating a burrito when I first saw him and was sitting in the front window of a Mexican restaurant. I approached him probably quicker than I should have and very clumsily told him that I was nervous.

I told him he should finish his burrito and he told me that he was done with it. He had a tiny bit of lettuce perched in his beard.

We then walked side by side out onto the street and he asked me how my day was. I lied to him and told him it was really exciting and that I did lots of amazing things – but I had actually just sat at home and stewed over the impending date.

I suggested going to a bar and he told me that it was difficult to have a ‘proper’ conversation at a bar and I became acutely aware of the fact that I didn’t want to even have a conversation with this boy at all. We decided on an alfresco table out the front of a gelato bar. I asked if he’d like some gelato and he politely declined.

I don’t know if it’s the years I have spent working in hospitality, but i know that when you sit at a business’s table, that they have placed there for the express purpose of their customers sitting at that table, you should definitely purchase at least one thing.

Purchasing one thing is all it takes to ensure that the employees of the business don’t try to bore a hole in the back of your head whilst you cackle slightly too loudly at your date’s awful sexual innuendo in the hopes that you won’t properly have to respond to it.

I bought an iced tea for two reasons. Reason number one was to avoid aforementioned head boring, and reason number two was so that I had something to sip when the conversation lacked: ‘I couldn’t possibly fill this silence right now, i’m sipping on something!’

A group of my friends were in the vicinity and very aware of the fact that I was on a Tinder date and they passed us on their way to the bar I had previously so hoped to patron. As they passed I desperately flailed at them in the hopes that they would spare me even one minute of this stagnant interaction. They did but then I felt bad for bombarding this poor boy with my punchy friends.

After they left we did too. I managed to convince him to come to the bar above the bar I wanted to go to. We sat down in armchairs facing each other. Lou Reed was playing and I asked him if he liked Bob Dylan. He pointed out that Lou Reed was playing. I pointed out that I knew that and was just frazzled. Silence ensued.

I asked him what he did that day. He told me he had bought condoms and that he found it really awkward doing so – he managed to turn it into a three minute long story. I told him that I enjoyed buying tampons from the most pre-pubescent check out boy I could find at Woolworths, and he told me that that was a cruel thing to do. I don’t think he was joking.

After an hour more of cripplingly slow conversation and him asking me ‘would you rather’ questions, I decided to ask him what he was thinking about. He responded with ‘where this is going’. I managed to twist his next words into something along the lines of ‘i’d like to make out with you in the backseat of my car,’ and so that was our next activity booked in.

Upon our arrival at his car he opened the backseat door and escorted me in. Once we were both in the car we sat on our opposite seats and stared through the windscreen in silence. I told him that I felt awkward. He agreed. He continued to sit still. I looked over at him and told him we should take Nike’s advice and ‘just do it.’ He laughed and then very slowly brought his face closer to mine.

What happened then was weird. He started kissing my neck softly. Like, really softly. At one point I thought that he was just hovering his face over my neck and not even making any contact.

Then his kisses were sucky. As in actually sucky. He would suck each of my lips into his mouth as if he were some sort of human vacuum. I’m not sure I liked it.

This continued for about fifteen minutes with families of five pulling up in their four wheelers and peering into the steamy windowed car every so often until this boy suggested we went back to my house. I agreed and told him I just needed to make one phone call before we left. I called my boyfriend and demanded that he come up with an emergency.

‘Ahhh…ow, oh god, my leg! Beth you have to come home my leg really hurts quite a lot’. Terrible. one hundred percent not good enough.

I spoke into the phone loudly, ‘oh NO. Oh my GOD. This is so annoying. You guys are cockblocking me’… or something along those lines.

Once I had finished my phone call I told this boy that I had to go. He was visibly disappointed.

I told him I had my period.

I didn’t have my period but I told him I had my period in the hopes that he would be physically repulsed by me and feel less disappointed. He seemed like the type of boy that would feel that way after such a revelation. See above: where he thinks it’s cruel to buy tampons off of a young boy.

I gave him a weird hug and a kiss goodbye and walked arms folded up to the bar where my friends waited.

‘OOOOOOOOOOOOOH WHERE’S YA LIPSTICK GONE?! OOOOOOH YOU BEEN SUCKIN’ DICK!’

I assured them that no dick had graced my lips with its presence and they didn’t believe me. They all high fived me and we went home.