Poverty Princess goes fishing for dates, reels in nudes.

“Asl? – 22, no thanks, Never-land.”

 

First of all, some house-keeping, if you’re under the age of 18, a member of my family or a friend’s family (yes you Kath!) please read this blog at your own risk. Do not judge me for the content, especially a phrase that rhymes with sick-wick.

Hola guapas.

Technically in Spanish if you are speaking to a group of people it should be the masculine spelling, ‘guapos’, but I ain’t down with that sexist shit.

Two months after returning to the Haven, formally known as Speke, my stress-induced acne began to clean up thanks to a hefty tube of Duac from my doctor, Dr Thakur. Say that out loud. Yep. Works wonders anyway kids, highly recommend.

After surviving the first few shifts back in the working world and not spending 5 days a week being tortured by previously mentioned fuckboy; I felt ready to re-enter the dating world – and by dating world I am course referring to Tinder.

I had attempted to Tinder in Spain, but after the disastrous date and constant frustration of the language barrier, I accepted it would be much less challenging playing on my home ground.

Look at me using a football metaphor simile* language technique pun expression-type-thing.

*In hindsight/100% proof-read I think simile was right!

I watched a lot of Barcelona games in Spain – Neymar Jr. is Bae.

If you’re one of my 43 blog visits from Spain, hit me up! I’m more than happy to be your baby momma, even with that dodgy new haircut .

Another male celebrity I developed a strong attraction to whilst in Spain, that I am much less proud of, was none other than Chris Brown.

The same Chris Brown I had detested since that fatal drive home from the pre-Grammys party. That same Chris Brown that had caused me to once throw an iPod at a friends TV when I was 15 and drunk on Glens vodka. (TJ if you’re reading this its not too late. I still don’t understand how it was never seen again after being thrown 3 feet maximum. If you did sell it on eBay like I accused you of, it’s been almost 7 years, please just confess, I’m over it. Mostly.) That same Chris Brown who I had lectured my Spanish students on when covering the topic of Crime, even making them act out the pre-Grammys search warrant and affidavit. That same Chris Brown, who when annoyed by two gay guys photo-bombing his selfie with female fans, announced he wasn’t ‘into that gay shit…I’m into boxing’. After proceeding to physically assault them he received a rehab sentence, and later jail.

Somehow I ended up listening to his latest album on my way to my Tinder date and unfortunately for this good, clean (ex) Christian boy, it was pretty much my sexual awakening.

Listen to 101 (Interlude) and tell me you feel nothing. It’s his pure cockiness in the way he brags about his bedroom skills. And his teeth. And his abs. And lets face it, we’ve all seen the nudes….

Babies arm.

That’s all I’m saying.

Actually no, babies arm who lifts bro.

Too far. I’m sorry.

But not really.

Moving on.

Except there is no moving on once you fall for CB – I’m currently listening to the Spotify playlist I recently made consisting of only 150 of his songs.

The same night I made it, my cousins boyfriend was violently attacked by an absolute psychopathic, coke-head in Black-f*cking-Rabbit. No he wasn’t gay-bashed, that was someone from big brother a few days earlier.

A moment before the attack I had previously got down to two of Breezy’s finest tunes. Whilst in the taxi home, I began to contemplate whether it was Karma for my absolute hypocrisy, his latest single (Zero – it’s a tune btw) came blasting out on the radio.

I had my answer.

So as you may have concluded by now, my taste in men can only be described as self-sabotage. Why am I only attracted to ‘straight’ fuckboys and homophobic, women beaters. I literally cock-block myself.

My type is literally someone tall, dark and handsome, who will ignore me, treat me like shit and drive me to depression.

What can I say?

Daddy Issues.

Stepping back into the Tinder world did nothing to help this predicament.

Matching my first guy in months, he popped up to inform me that he was sorry but his friends has changed his preference setting as a joke and he was in fact: straight.

Surprise, surprise.

I was so Audi it was unbelievable.

It was the final straw. Here I was, openly trying to get down with gay community and having this thrown back in my face. You try and you try, yet the straight fuckboys still worm there way in.

There was only one option left

One territory unexplored.

Fucking Grindr.

A few friends had used it in the past and told me it wasn’t all that bad – A few lying ex-friends should I now say.

Less than 2 hours into it, I received my first nude.

Now not only did my life consist of unwanted fuckboys. But also unwanted dick-picks.

I have honestly tried my hardest to convert the Grindr gays’ mind-sets from booty calls to Prosecco dates but it just doesn’t seem to be happening.

My favourite Grindr experience to date actually occurred today.

A young gentleman I used to know, who I actually shared a female prom date with once upon a time, popped up in the early hours of the morning asking me to ‘Get out his garden’. After responding with a simple, yet effective ‘?’, I received the reply ‘I have no idea *crying emoji*’ (OH MY GOD NO WORD OF A LIE AS I’M TYPING THIS HE HAS JUST POPPED UP AGAIN) & ‘what the fuck *crying emoji* x3’.

Listen Honey C.

If by garden you are referring to Grindr, as I can 100% promise you at 12:07pm I was in bed with my future wife watching Coven – not your garden, then I have absolute no problem vacating your ‘garden’ forever. I’ve tried to pluck the weeds for almost two months now, but clearly it’s a lost cause, no English rose is going to grow in that tainted soil. The grounds seedy enough but no seeds have flourished into anything close to being on par with this sunflower.

P.S. I feel rude ignoring you but no. Get yourself a tall glass of water and quench that thirst.

Also shout out to the guy sending me pictures of his abs who I kindly asked to move out of shot in orden to admire the Burberry Mac on the clothes rack in the background. 

To put my experience of online dating in Pokèmon terms: it’s like going fishing for a Gyarados with an old rod and not so surprisingly, only the Magikarps bite.

Having accepted that I’m probably not going to find an appropiate practice date on Grindr, though I always knew I’d certainly never find the one – it cant hurt a girl to try and get some free food, I have now evolved into a full on Grindr troll.

I’ll leave you with a few of my favourite screenshots & the 411 that I have actually found myself a tinder date with a beautiful Brazilian man who lives in Barcelona. Yup. The irony.

Not as ironic as living in Speke for 21 years & 3 months of your life and finally finding a well-paid job there, two days before deciding to move out again. 

But that’s a story for January 18th.

Bon a nit bitches

Enjoy the slideshow.

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