The Tinder Box

Long, blonde hair cascading down her back.  Driving an open top car, dark glasses on, music blaring, she speeds into the car park and pulls up in a space, haphazardly.

Stepping out of the car and approaching the pub door, she was the epitome of style, garish pink jump suit, kitten heels and a black silken scarf draped tastefully around her neck

Make-up was flawless, long nails elegantly painted, skin tanned and lusciously soft.  Perfume, subtle but sophisticated.

On entering the establishment, she swished up to the bar and orders a white wine spritzer “Sauv blanc, New world, if you have it and soda water, please.”

The barman hurries to comply, fazed by her sophistication.  She drawls a “Thank you, so much, sweetie” and picks up her glass and nonchalantly finds a seat where she can look out of the window.

She watches and waits for her companion to arrive, sipping occasionally from her glass.  Eventually she removes her glasses and it becomes apparent that they were used as a screen to hide behind, as there are no eyebrows or eyelashes visible.

She dons a pair of reading glasses to peruse the menu, peering closely, as her eyesight was fading and the cataracts were getting worse.

Surreptitiously, she tugs at the fringe of her hair, to ensure that it hadn’t moved or become obviously false.  She continued to wait patiently for her friend.

Jeremy parked his prized electric bicycle in the slots provided for bikes.  He was careful to attach his expensive lock and double checked it before he walked away.  He ran his hand through his jet-black hair and glanced at his hand to ensure that the hair dye hadn’t transferred to his palms.

He entered to pub and nervously glanced around looking for ‘a lady in pink’ as described on Tinder,

Seeing the attractive blonde, sipping her wine demurely, he plucked up all the courage he could find and approached her.  After introducing himself and shaking hands, he offered to buy another glass of wine for the woman.  She declined, saying that she had to drive home after.  He went to the bar and wondered what would impress the lady most.  Should he order a pint of beer and try to be macho?  Should he order a gin and tonic and try to appear hip and happening?  He settled on a glass of white wine, trying to mirror the preferences of his companion.

Settling down across the table from his new acquaintance, he struggled to remember the list of questions he had memorised to engage in conversation.  He decided to ask her if she had any hobbies first, always a good opener.  She replied curtly, with a simple “Not really, how about you?”

Jeremy racked his brain and replied “I quite like gardening, but I am not terribly successful.  In fact, I can kill anything green without much effort.”  He was thinking of the sad cactus at home on his window ledge.  Completely devoid of any signs of life and drier than a desert in a drought.  He was under the misapprehension that cacti could survive without water.

He tried another approach and asked his second question, “Do you have any pets?”  Again, the reply was short and tacit, “No”, she answered “I don’t have time for pets.”

He was really struggling now, so he started a long drawn out description of his beloved Miffy.  His only companion over the last 15 years since his first wife had left him.  Miffy provided him with love and unspoken devotion, provided he fed her twice a day and stroked her when she insisted on it.

His companion looked bored and stared off into the distance.  Realising that he was in danger of losing the interest of his new friend, he began to twiddle nervously with the bracelet he wore to hopefully cure the pain he suffered with his rheumatic hip joint.

The couple sat silently sipping their respective glasses of wine.  Jeremy, desperately trying to think of something exciting to say and the woman, obviously bored and trying to find an excuse to leave.

He decided to give it one last try, and asked the lady how many times she had used Tinder to meet people.  Her reply shocked him to his core “Never!” she replied haughtily.  “What on earth is Tinder?”

 

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