I decided that it was time to get back on the proverbial horse (read: sign up for dating apps again) just before Christmas in 2023. My mental health was in fine form (truly), and I was fairly certain that I could handle whatever came my way. Unfortunately, at the very moment that I had this lightbulb thought, I found myself in rural South Australia, hundreds of kilometres from Adelaide, and hundreds more again from home in Melbourne. The only app that allowed me to set my location back home without charging a fee was Hinge, so that’s where I dedicated all my efforts at the very start of this recent journey.

And sure, I could have used any old app and used my location settings to survey the talent nearby, but I’d made that mistake in the past, feeling all too awkward when I spotted the guy that I’d been chatting to for the past few days having a yarn with my dad at the pub like they were old mates. I wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of the fact that everyone in a 30km radius had some kind of connection to my parents and that mum and dad would know everyone who popped up as I was swiping. And so opted to plan for my future and only seek to line up dates for my return to Melbourne. 

I was like a dog with a bone, or more accurately and literally, a 30-something woman looking for a bone. I used my daily limit of likes before lunch every day then waited for the conversation to flow. Fortunately, for the sake of my sanity and social cohesion, the internet reception on my cheap city centric phone plan was terrible, so any time I was away from the Wi-Fi I needed to take a break from the chats. But despite that, and despite the busy festive season calendar, I was able to sustain some connections who were keen to meet once I returned to Melbourne. In fact, with a week free from work once I returned, I planned to pack my calendar full of opportunities, determined to make the most of my new-found confidence and vigour.  

Tim* was set to be the first cab off the rank, purely based on timing and availability. And Tim solidified the first lesson that I was set to learn from this little jaunt into the world of contemporary dating: sometimes you actually can judge a book by its cover. And it was a lesson that I would be reminded of over the course of the year. At other times it would be proven completely useless, but in this instance I was briefly concerned that I might be in a hidden camera show due to the accuracy of our assessment as the date unfolded. 

Despite what I said about nicknames in my previous post, some of the characters across the saga of dates that I have experienced have earned their nickname before we met-up, and Tim was one of them. You see, before I jumped in my car to head back to Melbourne I sat and shared some of the profiles with my brother and his partner. 
“Oh he has very sad eyes”, declared Jade as she scrolled over Tim’s profile.
“Yeah, that guy has really seen some things.” Said my brother, Nick, as he sympathetically handed the phone back to me, clearly none too impressed by anything that was being put on offer. 

But somebody had to be the first. And I had time to spare – holiday time. So on a sunny summer’s afternoon I ventured into the city and was happily reminded of the fact that I could in fact spot someone based off of a curated collection of photos that they chose to share on their profile (but don’t worry, there would be plenty of times throughout the year that would leave me wondering if I was talking to the correct person, until they would explicitly bring up a detail from our messages, when I would breathe a sigh of relief).   
And it was nice to realise that I was capable of holding a pleasant conversation with a stranger while sinking a couple of pints. But throughout the meeting it became abundantly clear that Nick and Jade had been onto something. You see, Tim was beautifully curious in his approach to conversation; he asked a lot of questions about my family, and the stories that I had up my sleeve bubbled out of me naturally, as they do at most times. In turn I would ask him questions about his own life. And multiple times throughout the couple of hours that we spent together on that day he would begin to tell a story and then pause, catch himself and say “oh no, actually that one is too sad” before stopping and moving onto another topic or another tale. 

After the third time I started to wonder if my life was perhaps a little bit scripted. It almost made me laugh. But that would have been brutal, considering Sad Eyes Tim was really living up to the assumed description. The perceptive take from Jade and Nick turned out to be bang on, and after that encounter I couldn’t unsee it. 

I wasn’t sure if there was anything between us worth exploring further but it was my first go on the merry-go-round for a while and he had talked about being particularly passionate about condiments, a quality that I, a lover of chilli jam and caramelised onion, found somewhat appealing. So, we agreed to meet up again when he returned from a planned hike in Tasmania. Unfortunately, that meeting never happened because he turned out to be just one in a long line of incredibly slack men who I would encounter over the course of the year (a tip for any men reading this, a little bit of enthusiasm can go a long way – but don’t get weird with it, okay?). Long story short, we teed up a time and a date but hadn’t confirmed a venue. On the morning of the planned encountered I messaged to check where we would meet, and…crickets. Until about three hours after we were supposed to rendezvous when he sent a message saying “Oh yeah, that’s right, we were supposed to have a date tonight. I forgot. What a pity, the weather is stunning, hope you found something fun to do – should we reschedule?” 
How about “no” Tim.
And I did find something fun to do that night. I cooked myself some vegetables and watched an episode of whatever show I was binging at the time. It was glorious.

But Tim served a purpose. A few, in fact. Of course, he confirmed that pictures can, in some instances, tell an incredibly rich story. He played a little part in giving me the confidence to keep talking to strangers from the internet and he absolutely showed me that people will let you down – but streaming services rarely will. 

*Not his real name, but his real name was a single syllable name, a shortened version of a longer name. In fact, his real name is on my list of ‘names of guys I’m not too stoked to date’, not because it’s a bad name, just because it’s one that is a little too close to home. The familial home.