I’m back to regale you with more tales of Tinder from my single life, after telling you about the time I regretfully ghosted someone.
As summer of 2015 approached, almost a year to the date of the ghosting incident, I redownloaded Tinder. I don’t know what it is about summertime and me getting onto that ghastly app. Tinder was just a game to me at this point; I was beyond taking anything seriously. I had put in my bio something like “Attitude like Kanye, feelings like Drake”, hand-picked some of my best selfies and threw in a picture from a few Halloweens ago to show that I had a sense of humour.
Millie swallowed down the pill with a big gulp. She could feel the cold water trickle down her chest and land in the pit of her stomach.
“You may experience some nausea and dizziness for the first few weeks,” the doctor had said, “but that will pass. Some people experience a loss of sex drive, but symptoms are different for everyone.”
Even less of a drive than I already have? Lucky me, she had thought to herself. She turned the pill packet over and read the back: take once a day with food. She feebly picked at the sandwich she had made earlier to satiate the numb feeling in her stomach that she supposed was hunger. She barely felt the tingle of mustard on her tongue when she bit into it; nothing tasted quite like it did before.
The summer of 2014 was an interesting time. I had just finished uni for good, and left a job I wasn’t particularly fussed about. Well, I say left, I was more pushed out of the door, after they conveniently decided to downsize two months after hiring me. But I guess that’s the nature of sales jobs, one day you’re in, the next you’re out. Anyway.
I still had a large chuck of the summer ahead of me, and when I wasn’t searching and attending interviews for jobs that I actually wanted, I had a lot of time to kill. And how else does a millennial kill time, but browse on Tinder? It’s not that I was particularly interested in meeting anyone… but I was looking for ways to pass the time.
They saw one another from across the park. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away again, happily chattering on the phone. A sudden shriek of laughter erupted from her lips, and he could have sworn that a flock of nearby birds took off into the grey sky as she did. Her cackle was almost as loud as her natural register as she spoke, and he wondered how someone could be so unaware of her volume control.
I stepped into the windowless, grey cube and thought, ‘Is this where the bright future of tomorrow is learning to fix the world? How depressing.’ But I wasn’t here to learn; I was here to audition for a low-budget university play. Though I may as well have been auditioning for the West End, for the amount of butterflies trying to escape my stomach.