I’m going to be honest: I had high expectations for meeting men at University. Leaving behind the hopeless boys in my small home town, I was excited at the thought of meeting dozens of intelligent eligible bachelors in Bristol. I thought Freshers would be a thrilling week of non-stop flirting and countless dates; perhaps even some wild and passionate sex.
I was disappointed.
In fact, I found it extremely difficult to meet guys I was attracted to at University. So in my desperation, I turned to Tinder.
Soon, I was chatting to numerous attractive young men, but was yet to meet up with anyone. I wanted to find out more about these potential lovers before I took the next step. As I was living in halls, I didn’t see a problem with telling other students that I spoke to where I was living.
One night, around 1am, I got a message from J* saying that he had been at a social around the corner from where I lived. He wanted to meet and say hey, seeing as he was so close. I thought he was joking, until he asked for my number and I received a call telling me that he was outside my halls. Curiosity got the better of me, and I reluctantly went down, warning him that I was wearing my pyjamas. I frantically put on some mascara and lip gloss in an attempt to disguise the fact that I had been in bed all day nursing a monumental hangover and binge watching TOWIE. To my horror, as I was opening the front door I bumped into one of my intimidatingly cool friends and her new boyfriend who were just on their way inside. I stopped to say hi, as I couldn’t see J anywhere.
But J had obviously spotted me and then began to approach us; I was horror-struck, not wanting to have to explain to intimidating-cool-girl-and-boyfriend that this was a spontaneous Tinder meeting. To my dismay, J sidled up behind me, snaked his arms round my waist and kissed me on the cheek.
“And who’s this?!” Cool Girl asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Erm… this is J…” I replied, feeling myself turning tomato-red, not wanting to admit I’d never met this dude before in my life.
Mortifyingly, J proceeded to chat to intimidating-cool-girl-and-boyfriend for over 5 minutes, until I managed to think of a lame excuse and marched him inside. I hadn’t planned on inviting him into the flat, but I was in panic mode; I just wanted to escape what had been the most awkward social encounter of my life. As I made timid conversation whilst making him a coffee, it became clear that J was… a bit of a twat. After telling me about his gap-yah adventures (how Bristol) he proceeded to show me screenshots of girls on Tinder who were “rank” and outrageously flirted with my flat-mate.
Completely disgusted, I politely asked him to leave. I walked him to the corridor and pointed him in the direction of the lift. For some reason, J thought now would be an appropriate time to try and kiss me. Dodging out of the way just in time, I told him to go away (using far more obscene language) and darted back into my room, completely baffled at the night’s events.
The next morning, I walked into my kitchen, bleary eyed and yawning. Guess who was eating a bowl of muesli at my kitchen table? Turns out J had returned to “get to know” my flatmate a bit better.
*Names have been changed for privacy reasons.