14/08/2014 12:37 BST | Updated 22/05/2015 06:12 BST

Tinder: What It's Really Like When You Meet Up


Lust-scientists, I have concluded my Tinder research for the paper I'm writing called My Never Ending Bad Decisions. This is how it went down...

The Meet-Up
Because Tinder is location based, I presumed I was going to be meeting with someone who was within a 15 mile radius. After we'd arranged a place, I got a message that said "it'll take me a couple of hours to drive there in my van". What? A worried couple of glances to my phone, then to my friends, then back to my phone. I decided we'd drink in the most public places I could think of.

The First Drink
A bit awkward. The best way of saying: "I still might want to back out of this being a date and go home within the hour" is ordering a lager tops. Bumping into my old flatmate, I explained this guy was "my mate". Smooth move. We chatted about Tinder (like losers) and he explained to me he'd met one other girl before, a lawyer who he didn't have much in common with. I was glad he didn't share her familiarities with court rooms.

The 7th Drink
Actually, we had a lot in common and I was having a good night. By this point we were kissing in the smoking area while people I knew looked on like they'd seen a hedgehog in a top hat. I was the type of drunk where I feel sober but there's nothing stopping me. Shot after shot, after chips, and shots. We were getting along. He was a person who laughed a lot and I'm a sucker for the chatty type. What can I say? I love a bimbo man.

The End of the Night
I'd worked out by drink three I wasn't going to sleep with him or speak to him again after this night. However everywhere was closing and I wasn't wanting to go home. I didn't want to inflict how I dance in the 5am clubs on a stranger, so then what? Do take this guy back to mine? No. You have to weigh up if it's easier to chuck someone out or to make an excuse and leave.

The Morning After
Remember what I said about him not being from my neck of the woods? I woke up on Sunday morning, alone in the back of a van. It was a fully converted one with a mattress and I was fully dressed, including my coat and one of my shoes. The van door opened where my new mate was coming back in from whatever he was doing outside (I know it was probably peeing). There was an awkward "hi". The shame kicked in. You know that feeling where you start to piece together what you've done and it makes you want to shout a little bit to get it all out?

But when I asked him to drive me back to my flat, I realised this had all been for a reason. My life long dream is to get to lie in one of those expensive beds on a long haul flight to somewhere exotic. I asked him if I could stay in the back all the way home. He said yes. It wasn't first class but it was the closest to a dream come true I could get with my stinking tequila hangover.

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