“Every cell in our body is destroyed and replaced every seven years. It is comforting to know that I have a body no man has ever touched.”

Me

I was having a check-up with a doctor because I found lumps in my breasts. I was sitting on a chair, and a male doctor was squeezing gently, talking simultaneously about his conclusions, and my breasts got a handful of touch. Then my nipples were the next target. The Colour, size and clear content received an excellent review, and the session ended.

At that moment, I couldn´t hold my thoughts to myself and murmured. Unfortunately, the doctor wanted me to clear my words, and I said, “This low I have gone to have a man’s touch. Thank you; it was nice.” The doctor had a mask, so I didn’t know his facial expression after that, but observations from his eyes told me he was smiling or grinning. My nipples were examined again, and the treatment felt like an S&M session. After that, I downloaded Tinder.

Endeavour no. 1 lasted 20 hours. I checked in to Tinder, like a 4-star hotel, but found sperm stains on the sheets and pubic hairs on the toilet seat. The following day, there was no continental breakfast. Only bad Taiwanese coffee without milk and the taste of remorse gave it a nice extra flavour to make the coffee black as nothingness. The app flew to the left side.

My friend, who I consider to be an expert on Tinder, told me the truth: “500 to the left side and one to the right side. Repeat until you have five. Then start talking, and you’ll see how fast four of them can go to the left. The one who’s left, have a date.” Instructions were clear, and my index finger was ready for the task.

Endeavour no:2 lasted four weeks. Now I knew where I was checking in: into a hostel with a great location and a coupon “buy one, get two drinks.” An open-minded attitude would ignore the stains and noisy party people who are the ones with pubic hairs attached.

I made simple rules on how to sort out 1678 likes. 

• Needs to wear a shirt.
• Have to be able to write without emojis or ONS, FWB.
• No fish, cat, moose and dog pictures.
• Needs to pose without a car, boat, motorbike or an ex wife. 
• Needs to pose without a drink or sunglasses.
• His name needs to have more than one letter. 
• Too good to be true is not true. 

 These rules of survival made two dates possible. 

The Spell guy

I met a guy who said that he likes to play role-plays, get into characters, study their history, and create a fantasy world where he escapes from the real world`s demands. It sounded pretty okay. I like games, too, but I was a bit worried about how deep he really goes. My colleagues were intrigued by this fellow and tried to ask where and when we were going to meet so they could witness my facial expression about his wizard look or maybe shining knight, a hero with green tights.

He excitedly wrote to me the night before the date that he was going to his friend’s place to experience a spell night. Spell night? Yes. It was a full moon, and they were planning to make spells.

I was without words. I wrote, “Have a nice spell night; you can tell me more about it tomorrow.” Now, I was pondering whether he does spells and believes them.

My questions were answered the following day. He does. He explained all about oils, rose petals, and herbs and how they were put into a jar with a written spell. Then, warming all ingredients with candlelight, magical words were sung in the air, and the vapour surrounded them with supernatural powers: “ex animo ad oculos audiences fortuna iuvat.”

 He wrote a love spell for our dates, and my reaction showed him the fun fact that spells don´t work for first and last dates. 

The Jesus guy

A lovely gentleman from the Netherlands wanted to have a pizza with me. Why not, I thought. Again, everything seemed to be okay, but the day before the dates, he told me that he had found his belief. It wasn’t a red flag as an open-minded person, especially after the spell guy. At least it would be a safe date experience with a man of God.

This true believer mainly focused on my eyes, which he found on the same level as my lump-proof, well-squeezed breasts. He praised my figure like I was a goddess. His hands fluffed my hair without knowing personal space, accompanied by words of a slimy gospel song. “Your hair is sexy” sounded like lyrics from Isaac Hayes’s piece of music.

Red flags were making crisp sounds like pages of the Bible. They were flying in the air and warning me of the approaching armageddon. He tried to kiss me in the middle of the street, and NO was coming from my mouth so loudly that the angels of heaven found a lead singer in the choir and sent one Jesus guy to hell. The date came to an end, hallelujah!

The Mexican sex toy representative

Everything appeared to be expected—PhD degree and working as a science nerd on an innovative project. The conversation floated, and his way of life was similar to mine. He was a bit pushy to meet me, but I learned from other experiences not to waste my time collecting left-side people. I needed to ensure that our possible confrontation wouldn´t be an episode from a Latino soap opera.

I was sure we should meet, and he suggested a Ramen place. Excellent, I thought. We shared the same interest in Japanese food. Then, he wrote an episode for the drama.

• Hey, what´re you doing?
• Nothing special, just spending Saturday nicely. What about you?
• Quite the same. Just scratching my belly and relaxing. I think people should do this more often. I think it´s not valued enough as an action on Saturdays.
• Hah, I agree. We should just be sometimes; scratching a belly is just enough action.
• Do you like sex toys?
• Excuse me, what?
• I really like sex toys. Actually, I´ve got a large collection of different toys. What are your top 3 fantasies? Are you up to experiencing something like this?

I had never seen my finger moving in the speed of sound, but now Tinder moved to the left. 

That was it. I had enough, and it was time to meet someone naturally without boosting, super likes, silver, gold, or platinum membership.

This period of time was a lovely period.

This time was a lovely period. My life before moved his stuff from my home after months, returned the key, and went back to Germany fuck himself in the eye. We were truly soulmates because I was doing the same with Tinder. I wanted to wipe the sticky stains after my Tinder experience, and an opportunity was there. My trekking trip to Portugal was getting closer. I walk everything out until I´m a newborn person.

After an extreme day, more than 20k of ups and downs on the Atlantic path, I rewarded myself with cheese, meat, and red wine in Loja do Vinho. The waiter came, and I was struggling with the wine list. It was longer than ever. I expressed my problems to the waiter about what to choose, but two elderly American women decided to step in to give me helpful advice. They were too tipsy, and there was still an untouched red wine bottle on their table. I had my book to entertain a single dinner, but sharing a red wine bottle with two talkative Americans seemed more entertaining.

I shared my stories from Tinder, and I´m sure the laughter made the old castles closer to the rack and ruin in Sintra. However, I had a night of laughter and red wine, which was just what was needed then.

The American ladies were ready to head up to their accommodation and sent a message to their driver. Before the car came, they told me some details of their journeys. They praised their private drivers in Morocco and Italy. Excellent service, showing new places, helping them explore, and making their travelling dreams come true. Also, younger drivers were the long-lasting ones and could perform excellently. When the driver opened the door, I understood they didn´t talk about driving skills.

• Want to share? 
• I….I don´t think so, thank you, but I´m fine.
• Alright then. Good luck with Tinder! 

I, my book, and the bottle of red wine were left alone on Sintra´s night. The night was chilly, but my cheeks were glowing like two hot coles, and the title of the book, “ After Dark,” was spot on.

I wasn´t looking for a driver to make travelers’ dreams come true or a long-lasting ability to keep driving me in Portugal,

I thought I´d set the alarm when my phone vibrated next to me. No, it was endeavour no. I felt blue after red wine, and now the purple colour was underlining its Lutheran meaning: regret. I didn´t know that Tinder shows a gallery of humans available in the area where you are right now. João´s and Diogo´s filled my phone with likes, and I felt foolish. I wasn´t looking for a driver to make travellers’ dreams come true or a long-lasting ability to keep driving me in Portugal, but I had paid already. It’s better to wait until I get home and clean the phone.

The following country I landed in was Sweden. My human collection was growing with Svens and Karls. The faces looked like Kalle´s roe paste, and I didn´t starve for that.

After recovering from the after-holiday mood, I opened Tinder and noticed something unappealing. I received a super like from someone I didn´t want to remember after 20 years. The left side of my body vividly remembered his too-curvy gear stick, and the acceleration marks from my index finger were only left on the screen. Endeavour no:3 went where all leftovers belonged, to the left.

It was the day before my birthday, and everything went according to plan. My friend´s Spanish family was at my home, wondering about my brother, who was drinking sparkling wine at 10 a.m. Another brother was picking us up for dinner with our dad, and after noticing our sparkling mood, he decided to give the car keys to his son and enjoy, as we did.

On that two-hour journey in the back seat, they tried to fix my mindset of thinking about Tinder. I could set my insurance problems immediately with an older guy who dies soon, and 50 is the new 40. Such wise brothers I have.

That day was one of the most important days of my year. I realised my life wasn´t busy; it was full. I didn´t need anyone right now. I decided to expel the Tinder and seek drivers on a real track because some is going to drive me home one day.