Tinderella Tales

Tinderella Tales

I’m a girl (obviously). I HATED taking photos with a passion, mainly because I don’t know what my face is doing when I can’t see it. All it really does is spasm awkwardly until I see that flash and then normal Rachel comes back. Team that with a few drinks and two years of tiredness (2 kids under two!) and the resulting photos posted on Facebook could be pieced together to form a story of horror that your imagination could never conceive. From half closed eyes, to a face I like to call ‘Seizure-Rachel’, I never liked the way I looked in photos.

This all changed on one fateful day. The day I bought my husband a new phone-with a front camera. Suddenly, my whole world changed. Suddenly I could contort my face into a more welcoming smile, rather than the scowl of a werewolf in labor and actually see it BEFORE the photo was captured. Thus began the reign of Rachel, Queen of the selfies. (She is also known as the less grande Rachel, self-confessed selfie addict.)

Facebook got hit the worst. Selfie profile photos soon became a regular thing. The likes kept coming, and I kept selfie-ing. Then I met Instagram. Filters as far as the thumb could scroll – I was in selfie heaven. People I didn’t know liked pics of me, and I must admit, it was a huge ego boost. This is when I thought of the tinder thing. the good photos would attract some guys, I thought anyway. The sleazy chat up lines and hilarious photos would make for some great material. I wasn’t ready.

Throughout the whole tinder process, I kept my husband in the loop.* Asking his opinion on whether my sharp tongue was funny or too blunt, telling him when his cousin liked me, how my ex-boyfriends little brother liked me, how one man kept trying even though I said gorilla 48 times in a 22 minute conversation, how another man put so much effort into his opening line because he actually read my bio! And you know what? Aside from the odd creep looking for my Snapchat name or for  ”a late night glass of wine’ at 3am, it could be a lot worse. Picture a nice bar where guys go and pretend to be nice and witty and nice but they really are looking for a quickie in the restroom and won’t buy you a drink first. This is my idea what it must be like on tinder for girls who are actually on it looking for a man, and not just looking for info for a column. To you, ladies, I salute!

 

*I never had any intention of following up with these matches, so if you were one of the clueless few who thought I did – sorry!

 

Time on tinder : 4days

Number of matches : 1020 and counting

Number of people I swiped right to : 1020 and counting

Number of people I swiped left to : 423

OH! Before I forget, I have a few shout outs to do.

Lucas, who offered pictures of his penis on Snapchat 16 times a day until I gave him a random username (rajaha79 – enjoy the pics buddy)

Ronan, who when he found out I had a son with the same name, tried to convince me that he was actually my son from the future trying to warn me about a robot who was coming back to save me from cyborgs.

Finally, Conor, the mixed martial artist from Limerick who couldn’t stay awake for fight night. He also wrote his own personal shout out – “Conor O Brien is an all-round fantastic person”. I have a sneaking suspicion that he may be lying.

So there we have it, readers. My experience of tinder, I’ve screenshot a few conversations for your enjoyment.

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About The Author

Born in 1988, Paddy IrishGirl has had a natural talent for banter. She had a proven mentality of a 40-something year old at the age of 3 and a sense of humour so dry it would rival her husbands attempt of cooked chicken. Paddy IrishGirl has been rated as "The Funniest Comedian this side of the Atlantic"* and "The new Joan Rivers, without the horribly disfigured face of a trolls scrotum"* She spends her days devoting herself to her two kids, Broken Condom & The Forgotten Pill. *all quotes are from reliable sources and totally not made up by the author herself.

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