Oh man …
So upon making my return to HK, realising that any friends I had here previously are either elsewhere or I’ve lost contact… I decided to try out Tinder. Yes, I know it’s a dating app, it’s not for making friends. But hey, I was curious as to what was ‘out there’, hidden in those huge towering building blocks. You never know, it could be the start of something beautiful. Maybe someone would have the same idea as me! We would go for a ‘date’ and realise we have LOADS in common, both being randomly in Hong Kong at the same time.. FATE! even if it doesn’t blossom into a beautiful romance, I’d gain a friend in the city.
WRONG.
WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.
Unfortunately it would seem that I am slightly naive. Lets call it ‘optimistic’.
Firstly… how are you supposed to know what someone is like from their pictures? What if they solely chose pictures which best represent them to the prospective tinder audience. False advertising. But this problem didn’t just affect my swiping skills, I also started scrutinising my own photo choices. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for, so how could I possibly choose which photo’s to showcase? And as for the ‘about me’ section … pppfffft! I realised that this whole business is a lot more complex than I had thought. Or perhaps that’s me. 4 years of Psychological studies causes further analysis of many things in order to deeply comprehend whats going on, which actually isn’t a bad thing by any means. But in the case of Tinder: it’s just too much energy wasted. So I left the photo’s from my Facebook account, left the ‘About me’ bit blank and went on a swiping spree.
It got pretty addictive, in the safety of my cupboard room, quickly judging countless numbers of males who happened to be in my selected victim radius. Addictive and fun. And the excitement at the wee orange notification telling you ‘YOU’VE GOT A MATCH’ … oh my… endless fun. I did it while walking the streets of Mong Kok, I did it watching the ‘Symphony of Lights’ at Victoria harbour, I did it after a hike on Lantau. I got some of the weirdest conversations from some very confused guys, like this one guy who said he was born in England and has an English accent but as his family are Scottish, didn’t want to be labelled as ‘English’ … when I asked what he wanted labelled as he replied ‘A Badass’… when asked for further information I was told ‘you’ll see’. Which abruptly ended our courtship.
I was also rather charmingly asked round to a guy from Israel’s house for ‘Coffee’… hot strong sweet coffee. How rude! I had a flirty Frenchie invite me out for some ‘fun’ while he is passing through HK, which I politely declined, and a Turkish diamond grader looking for a tour guide. A local Hong Kong guy scared me off with ‘HI JENNIFER NICE TO MEET YOU I WOULD LIKE YOU’. Unmatch. Unmatch, unmatch, unmatch. Maybe I’m not made for Tinder.
The one date I actually decided to go on was a hilarious disaster. So the guy had described himself as a dry witted Scotsman, and the chat was not bad, apart from a slight skeezy comment here and there. One fateful night I was home early after a morning-mid day hike on an nearby island. He asked if I would like to meet up with him after he finished work at some point. Midnight meetings… What am I Cinderella? But a cross between boredom and curiosity got the better of me and I went to meet my fellow countryman. At any rate, I thought I would make a paesano friend. I arranged to meet him at a nearby MTR station and hit Temple street night market, which is always entertaining ‘Dark side’* funtimes. As I walked up the stairs from the MTR, I thought maybe I would get stood up. I thought about the fact that I haven’t actually been on a date with a Scottish person in years, I thought ‘imagine if we hit it off and have to tell people we met on Tinder’.
As I walked up the stairs I saw him standing at the railing. My eyes grew wide as I thought back to the few pictures on this guy’s profile. None of them were really all that… representative? He had beard, which I have more recently come to suspect and detest more than people who wear surgical masks in public. Or those chainsaw masks Eminem used to wear. He was also a lot shorter than I had anticipated, which is mostly my own problem but it still came as a shock. I decided to ignore the grey sweatpants and slightly dirty looking black t-shirt with the back hair creeping out of the back collar. I decided to swiftly move on to Temple street and focus on the date. If I didn’t look at him he wouldn’t be able to see the hilarious look on my face, like when you have just realised you have made a grave error of judgement, but need to keep it together while trying not to laugh out loud at your mistake.
As we began chatting I realised that I did not recognise this accent. Not because he was from some different part of Scotland and I couldn’t pick out exactly where, but because he didn’t have a Scottish accent at all. Now, for someone to write specifically that they are ‘a licentious Scottish migrant’ he certainly wasn’t Scottish and I definitely misunderstood the meaning of licentious. I thought it was like ‘rapier wit’! NOT ‘rapist look’ with hairy overgrowth and gold rimmed glasses which seemed creepier the more I looked at them. I actually had to divert the conversation a few too many times to the antics which were happening around us in that Temple street outdoor market restaurant, incase my expression gave me away. Not only that, but he was decidedly not witty, and actually seemed kind of shy, which is not how he presented himself via Tinder chat. Also, I’m pretty sure he had had a stroke, based on his strange slurred accent and what seemed to me as a slightly droopy right hand side of his face (under the beard! do not trust beards!) and is that a slightly too long right arm?!
Now before you hang me for being a terrible terrible bitch, I didn’t let any of these things ruin the date. I kept my cool and prattled on about my theory of dolphin’s being attention seeking rapers, my various experiences around the world and listened intently to his chat. But as the date ended and he walked me to… HIS apartment block, where he explained that he lived above two charming brothels, he seemed surprised that I didn’t want to come up for a drink. Nevertheless he pulled me in for a kiss, which I swiftly diverted and ended up with my cheek pressed into thick wiry sidebeard.
As soon as I got home I deleted Tinder. It’s not made for people like me. I really hope that people find happiness through the app, but for me, I’ll stick to good old serendipity.
*Kowloon is known as the ‘Dark side’ as it’s part of mainland China and more ‘traditional’ than Hong Kong island.
Jenniferism 