Unfortunately, it has transpired that dating websites ARE Amusing. And Easy To Write About. In fact, if I'm having a dull day, the surest way to cheer myself up is to pop onto Tinder for 5 minutes and try to find a picture of a bloke pouring olive oil over his naked chest with his eyes half closed in Good Fat ecstasy. Presumably, basting himself for my dating delight. So I do feel that I have somewhat cut off my nose to spite my face when I deleted the app in a fit of rage after two exceptionally dull dates in a row. The first involved going for a walk with a bloke who was nice enough, but walked so slowly that our coffee and walk took TWO AND HALF HOURS. That's a long time to spend with someone when you realise before you've even said "hi" that you're not interested. The second was with a guy who apparently isn't familiar with the cultural norm that dictates that, when speaking with others, you should SHOW INTEREST and ASK QUESTIONS. I basically interviewed the guy about his life for 90 minutes. Eventually, I ran out of quesions. After all, there's only so much you can ask someone the first time you meet them without starting to come across as a nosy cow. There was a pause, and he said, Well, that's enough about me... (I waited).... (he continued) Anyway, yeah, about my band.... (just shoot me now).
There's someone who's clearly never read How to Win Friends and Influence People. Lesson #1: Ask Questions. Listen to the answers. Look interested.
It's really all very simple when you think about it.
But I have deleted Tinder which leaves me with somewhat of a gap for material. Luckily, the Times came to my aid with an article about the dating website BeautifulPeople.com.
The website, which claims to be the largest internet dating community exclusively for the beautiful, has courted controversy with claims that it culls members who become “ugly” after being accepted. It has also suggested that Irish men are among the least attractive in the world. Applicants are told to post photographs, information about their height, weight, hair colour, body type, field of work and several other personal details. Members then rank applicants on a scale of “absolutely not” to “beautiful”.
In 2011 BeautifulPeople claimed that a virus called Shrek, named after a film character famed for his ugliness, had allowed thousands of unattractive people to gain membership without being vetted. Greg Hodge, the company’s managing director, said at the time: “We have sincere regret for the unfortunate people who were wrongly admitted to the site and who believed, albeit for a short while, that they were beautiful. It must be a bitter pill to swallow, but better to have had a slice of heaven then never to have tasted it at all. We have to stick to only accepting beautiful people — that’s what our members have paid for. We can’t just sweep 30,000 ugly people under the carpet.”
Oh Greg. You have made my life with that quote. I will never have a Tinder story to beat that.In other news, I received the most Kiwi As tixt bro I've ever read in my life last night. On a night out, my friend had said we'd keep in touch to see where everyone had ended up. At 1am I received this message: "At Bro".
If you're reading this and you need a translation, it means "I'm out in town, whereabouts are you and I'll come and join you". Another version of this is "Up to" = "what are you doing right now". And the classic, "that's us" = "yes, I agree to that plan, sounds good with me".
New Zealanders. They're a nationality of few words. They take a sentence and distill it down with the approach of "what do I ABSOLUTELY NEED TO INCLUDE in this sentence to communicate my intention?"
I'm hoping this Kiwiana knowledge will stand me in good stead when Immigration New Zealand comes to review my visa applications this month. It's currently causing me a world of pain. Everything was going fine, I'd got my paperwork in, was feeling pretty smug about getting everything together 3 months in advance... then I got a call from them reminding me that I'm American. And therefore have to submit a police check from the US as well as the UK.
OH GOD.
And thus ensues mass panic as you find out that you have to get fingerprints done, and you can only get them done at one post office in Auckland, and they never answer the phone, and when you do go in they tell you there's a 2 week wait, until you look like you're about to cry and they ask you "OK, what are you doing at 10am tomorrow?" Then you work out that the FBI is going to take 4 months to process your fingerprints, by which time your UK police check and medical will have expired and your NZ work visa and you're basically going to be back in Birmingham hoping you can have your old job back at Topshop. Then you realise, Aha! I can pay twice as much money (of course, it's America) and send my fingerprints to an FBI "approved channel", but they can't send anything outside of the US. So you get the report sent to your sister and ask her to text you when it arrives. You receive the following text at 5am on a Friday morning when you've had a complete sense of humour failure about the entire business which says,
They say they have a record of you from 1998??
At which point you have a breakdown.
WTF?!!!
1998? I was 17?
Did we get arrested at a house party?
This is a nightmare!!!
And you sister texts back:
Just kidding! + lots of laughter crying emoji faces.
(Maybe I'll find it funny once my visa is approved).
I think we should bring back the "Ten Pound Pom" scheme, when the New Zealand government actually WANTED us Brits to come over. It was introduced after the Second World War as part of the "Populate or Perish" policy - to increase the population and supply workers (Clearly they were aware of the Great British Mating Tradition. Get Pissed. Find A Shag). All we had to pay was ten pounds and the southern hemisphere welcomed us with open arms. Well, I can tell you that so far I've spent almost 4000 dollars trying to live here, and there's no guarantee that I'll be allowed to stay beyond July 5.
Come on New Zealand! We're part of the Commonwealth! I'm your grandmother man!
On the plus side, if I am kicked out, I'll have a whole new region with which to experience the joys of Tinder.
Every cloud.
