Hello wonderful people! You can call me junglebrooke or just Brooke :). This is my very first post! I’ve decided to make my blog a mixed bag of sorts, so here I’m gonna talk about everything from my personal dating fails, to chapters from novels I’m writing that I hope to finish. I’ll also probably go on rants about the world around me. Below is an actual pic taken of me during one such rant:
Nah, here’s me actually, pictured with my fur baby:
I’ve decided my very first post is going to be about a little app I’m almost certain everyone has downloaded at some point. Oh you know it, it’s basically online shopping, but for sex/relationships/conversation. If you don’t know it, anyone in your immediate friend’s circle would know of it. If you haven’t already guessed it (because you live under a bridge) it’s Tinder.
How I see it is if you’re on Tinder, you can fall into three basic categories*
Category 1: The Survivor: You’ve been on countless shitty Tinder dates ranging from Mark, the guy who wouldn’t stop talking about his amazing ex who must have been a superhero from the way he goes on and on about her. to Andre the guy who in 2017 still makes very inappropriate jokes that make you want to down the rest of your margarita and get tf outta there. You have more stamina than anyone in this race, and if there is a zombie apocalypse, I want you on my team.
Category 2: The Indeterminate: You constantly download and delete Tinder. it’s become routine by this point. Who knows what sets it off? As a fellow Indeterminate, I’m constantly shifting between “Dating is a waste of time, I am way too busy.” To being out on the town in my best dress, checking myself out in store windows and seeing a cute couple and immediately thinking: “Wow, they are super cute…am I gonna find somebody like that? I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a year, oh God.” Before hastily redownloading this shitty app that feels like a never-ending merry-go-round of polite but boring conversation and requests for my snapchat (Quite possibly so they can send dick pics, but I give the benefit of the doubt!)
Category 3: The Believer: Tinder is like a candy store for you, you have a relatively positive outlook on love, and this app is an amazing way for you to hook up with new guys. One of my best friends is a Believer, and I don’t know how she remains so optimistic. She met her current boyfriend on the app, and they are currently backpacking through Europe together and posting adorable pictures of them together on their Instagram. Again, how?!
Modern day technology is amazing, but on the love scene I sometimes think it can be more hindrance than help. To understand the reason I say this lemme tell you a story. I was out at lunch with my mum, and there was this very attractive waiter. He looks like a Norse God and had a cool tattoo on his forearm. (I am a sucker for anyone with awesome tattoos.) My mum catches me staring and says I should give him my number. I wave her notion away on the pre-tense that I’ve never given out my number physically, it’s bound to tank.
After we eat I go out into the cafes garden area to look at the koi fish. As I’m looking at their little sucker mouths, I hear a polite “excuse me- “
Who do I see when I turn around but Tattooed Norse God Waiter himself? I smile like a complete idiot as he asks me which artist I went to for one of my tattoos. I tell him the name and walk woodenly back to my seat. My mother saw everything happen and asked me what he wanted. After I explain, she rips off a corner of the paper tablecloth and tells me to write down the name of the artist, as well as my number (In case he needed extra help typing the name into google or something, I have no idea) She told me it gave me a way to start a conversation with him under the pre-tense of being extra helpful.
Artists depiction of Tattooed Norse God Waiter. Kidding, but this is what he looked like! Imagine him carrying your drinks order instead of a hammer. Credit to site: MiddleGroundTopFive
My mum left the table, I’m pretty sure she saw the whole exchange happen from afar as she is pretty nosey. I stand up as I see him walk over to me. I awkwardly catch his attention and push the paper into his hands. I manage to squeak out that the paper has the name of the artist on it, as well as my details. I then turn on my heel and walk/run away quickly, leaving him standing there. I practically dive into my mums car and sit there shell shocked for the next ten minutes as we drive away. Needless to say he hasn’t text me haha.
Maybe I just struggle with talking to people I’m interested in when I haven’t downed 4 drinks? There is no way I can be the only one. I asked my Nana about it and she agreed that I just need more practice talking to actual people, and not messaging on an app. She mentioned that in her day, they didn’t have messaging apps and the like. She said she would get asked for her number by people in every day occurrences, like on the street. ON THE STREET! Maybe other people have either had that happen, or taken the leap themselves, I am not one of those people so I don’t know. After reliving my ordeal with Tattooed Norse God Waiter, I’m gonna download Tinder, and try again.
*Keep in mind this is my understanding of it, and I do understand if you don’t necessarily believe you fall into these categories.