So, I’ve been on Tinder and Bumble for a few weeks now. I first decided to download the apps on a friend’s suggestion, rather push, to log on while I traveled to London and Ireland. I must admit the idea of starting an international romance with a handsome foreign stranger did intrigue me. I digress. I go for it. I take some recent pics (please do this, guys and girls), some were taken outdoors, some indoors, you get my drift. And I’m off. My 9-hour flight to London underway.
I’m hopeful. I’m expectant and in deep anticipation. Who will I meet? Who will I talk to? Who’s going to right swipe on me? Only time would tell. I arrive to London, updated my account settings to provide my local address, and prepared to be open to anyone and anything happening on my week abroad.
I swipe right, match, I swipe right again, match, match, and match. Okay, this is promising. My queue was close to 900 fellas by the time I landed in Ireland. Not bad. Now, who to message? Who wants to hang out with a woman who is leaving in a week’s time and lives 5,000 miles away? Turns out, a few.
While in Cork, do as Corkonians do. Okay, no one says that, but what I mean is, I went to a pub (bar). I didn’t order a Guinness, but maybe I should have. I chatted with the local bartender and suggested a meet up with a guy I matched with on Bumble. He was a professional surfer and IT guy. Right. I started another conversation with an educator, “entrepreneur”, and few other sweet guys genuinely interested in what I was doing in their country, a girl from Seattle, and for only a short period of time. The conversations were fun. These guys knew how to hold my attention.
The three-day wedding was amazing and my whole reason for being in this foreign land. I stayed in a cottage with limited Wi-Fi, so I had no idea whether I was making connections or if any of the ones I made were checking in on me and my availability. Turns out they were!
I return to Cork for a final night in the evergreen country and get a nice message from one of my suitors. He wants to take me out for a drink on my last night in Ireland. Sweet! I oblige. I suggest my hotel’s bar. He asked early in the day because he works and would be getting off late. Apologized that he couldn’t meet up sooner. Really, who are these guys?
Alas, we never met. He apologized again, he had a long day and after the gym was too tired to make it out. It was a Monday. I get it. Instead, a friend and I participated in a visioning exercise. We imaged our wedding day, who was there, where we were, and who was standing in front of us exchanging vowels, loving looks, and a lifelong commitment to one another. A girl can dream, can’t she?