To help with my non-heartbreak heartbreak, I totally downloaded an app called Bumble. It’s for people who want to hook up, or date or whatever, but mostly hook up.
My friend came over one night this week. She’s my fave friend because she’s more fcked up than me, which is so fun. So we were drinking wine on my massive bed and I was sulking about the loss of the footballer and she was sulking about some guy too. It’s not my story to tell, as good as it is, which is annoying as it’s hilarious but she’d go ballistic if I wrote about it here, which is weird of her, I know.
But that aside, we were in a similar boat, with no fckin paddles.
After some good amounts of more wine we decided this Bumble app would be the answer to everything, and so we simultaneously downloaded it.
It felt for a moment like two 50-year olds trying to tweet. My mum once decided to get “the twitters”.
Mum, it’s just called Twitter.
“Yeah that’s what I said: the twitters.”
I looked at my mum’s profile and she was following Gaz from Geordie Shore (I had to Google who this guy was) and other pointless random shit.
I was like “Mum wtf?”
She said “Well I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t know how me and Gaz are friends but we are and he always wears his top off.”
I think she just went ahead and said yes to all the suggested followers. She’s not used it since.
Her Twitter etiquette in that respect was quite reminiscent of my friend and I attempting to bumble around Bumble.
We called a 12-year old girl to come help us with it, but it was late and she was sleeping so we just gave up.
The next day I got a Bumble lesson off my friend Jonny. Turns out I was bumbling all wrong.
We had a look through the offerings together and he taught me how to really do Bumble. I went to him because he had Bumble and he’s actually been in a relationship for six months from it. Not that a relationship is my end goal here.
We stumbled across an Adonis. I was like: “OMG say yes to him.”
So we did and we “matched”. Jonny was like “You have to message him now and you only have 24 hours to do so.”
Sorry what? Men chase, girls don’t. What is this bullshit?
Hold my beer
It was pressure, but I liked it secretly. I’ve got this.
His bio was some shit like: “It’s so hard to find a girl who knows all the words to Friends, likes sushi, listens to 90’s r&b and watches the news after the gym.”
No friend, it’s not going to be for long. Because for that face of yours I can do all of that. But as luck would have it I know most of the Friends scripts (who doesn’t?) and I watch The Chase followed by the news before going to the gym. Ok so it’s not the order he wants, but hopefully that wasn’t going to be a deal breaker. I know, I’ll ask…
So I went in with that, telling him that this wasn’t the order I watched the news in. He said it was a deal breaker sadly. I replied” “You win some, you lose some.”
And then we went ahead and became chat friends.
We spoke most of that night and then all the next morning. All over Bumble. A couple of busy bees on Bumble.
Now eventually it got to the whole “what do you do?” thing. I lied about what I do. Of course. Telling someone you write a blog about them and all the other shit shows of London for a living is never going to go down well. What does he do though?
“I’m a menswear model.”
Ffs. Can’t I just meet a normal guy? You know like a prince (with hair) or a lawyer or a doctor (plastic surgeon)? I don’t want to hang out with pop stars, DJs, footballers or models any longer. I really don’t.
But I ignored it for now because I assumed eventually I’d find out that he works full time in the big Asda and by model he meant he has an Instagram account. Either that or he once posed in a catalogue (who hasn’t?) and has been dining out on that experience for quite some time.
We carried on talking and he said he was going to be at this gig happening tomorrow in town. One I had been considering going to. A gig I could very easily go to. A gig I had just put in a request for tickets for. I very quickly got the golden tickets.
We talked most of the day and suddenly I realised that on the day of the gig I’d already arranged to hang out with my friend who looks like Princess Jasmine. But that’s cool, perhaps she would want to come.
She did not.
Now wtf do I do? Obviously my loyalty lies with Princess Jasmine, but my vagina wants us to go to the gig. Fs.
I need to get into a sensory tank and decide what to do. I’m sat here with two tickets to a gig a male model will be at, but with a friend I’ve known half my life and who I’m looking forward to spending some time with.
These are the problems of LostItGirl for today.
Vagina Vs loyal friend.