How cliché.
The packet says, 'I love you' with a picture of a chocolate love heart on the crumpled packet. But who loves me?
So in the last week, this Tinder-ella, has been on three interesting dates.
And you know that bad feeling you get before something bad happens, I had it before all three dates.
The first encounter I met an extremely boring jock - a footy playing, beer swelling, one-of-the-lads, down at the Mount after my morning walk.
As I finished, I grabbed two coffees and headed over to where we were meeting.
I thought instead of the awkward "who pays for what" situation I would bite the bullet and just pay for them myself. Mistake number one, he didn't drink coffee.
He had allergies but did politely down the cow-puss-goodness.
Mistake number two, I didn't or couldn't make conversation with this man. Which I am not entirely sure is my mistake or his.
He kept gazing off in the other direction, which I found extremely rude, and when I questioned what was so interesting he said something about a mouse running across the grass?
Mistake number three, I asked him about his work, so he ended up trying to sell me a life insurance policy for 45 minutes.
However, date number two wasn't any better either.
I actually felt like he was grilling me for some life contest.
Aside from his lanky disposition and geeky charm, the way he spoke to me felt like my former elitist high school teachers asking me a question I should have known the answer too but didn't.
And the third man could have just finished a shift at the local rubbish tip for all I knew.
Suffice to say, his scent wasn't one that ladies would've flocked to.
Except me.
Maybe Tinder could think about putting in a feature in the future that when you swipe right, it sends you a whiff of the potential dates body aroma.
#stinkylove
