[Carrying on, what has become somewhat of a persecutory Fumble journey from Instalment Three…link to that little chapter is HERE].
Right…I’m going to prefix this by saying I’m not being judgey….long pause….bloggers block **trying to rack my pea brain and tell you what I AM being**. Twenty minutes later…I give up…
…OK I AM being judgey. So like it or don’t like it…’tis what it ’tis.
Unless you’re a useless politician and getting judged for being sucky at your job which is effecting the whole bloody country, then day-to-day, nobody should be judging anybody…but this is up there with politics…THIS is ‘dating’, well trying to date, so I am being a bit of a judgey judge, like if I’m being honest.
Actually scrap that…I’m being too polite here…it’s honesty that’s called for in a potential dating scenario because if I just stick with ‘polite’ I’m not going to be able to write another damn word on this topic.
In this scenario, the scenario where I am on dating app, Fumble, looking for a suitable other half to share my life with, I AM being judgey.
HELL…I AM THE JUDGE…
…and so should you be in this ‘dating app situation’ you’ve put yourself on, because we all deserve to find the best partner we can to journey through this ONE, short, life with. No one aspires to get into a crappy relationship so if there is limited compatibility from the outset the prospects aren’t going to look good – so get scrutinising and get judging so that you don’t end up in a relationship that is only going to result in a waste of your time and major incompatibilities.
We should want ‘what’ and ‘who’ is best for us and we therefore in reality do have to make judgments to achieve that, especially in a dating app situation. I’m going to own the bench wig and jabot (that’s the frilly thing Judge Judy wears around her neck…I researched that so I could give it its correct name) and I’m going to be the Judge in my own dating destiny.
So, whilst on this damn app, which just four days in I am minded to deactivate, I’m sitting here with my bench wig firmly stuck on my head and jabot clipped to my shirt and I’m going to tell you all about what’s been going on…I’m not naming any names and I don’t ‘know’ these people, so all I am going on (judging them on) is what they have uploaded and therefore what they have chosen to share with the dating Fumble public domain.
I’m going on what they’ve put out there, the photograph(s) and information they want perspective partners to pick them based upon…so what I report is only what I can know about them from their profile which is all the information I have to make a decision on whether I want to chase **chat to** them or not.
I’m trying to work out who I might have a connection with and eliminate who I do not. Who I believe I would get on with and who I believe I would not…by looking at photos, their 100 character (limited by Fumble) ‘About Me’ (if they’ve actually bothered to write one) and answers to stooopid questions put to them by the designer(s) of this app which they may or may not choose to answer.
This is my first overall impression…there appears to be five main categories of men going on here…
GROUP A ‘The Wanna Be Alphas’ (only they are using a dating app where the woman is the pursuer – nothing Alpha or even Beta about that lads…try last letter of the ‘Greek Alphabet’, which is ‘Zeta’)…there’s a lot of gym rats…posing in their natural habitat (The Gym), clearly lifting (posing with), just for the camera, heavier than they NORMALLY would even consider weights, veins in their heads popping and if they had motion on, I’m sure their biceps would be shaking from the tension they aren’t yet used to; there’s a lot of strained looking pained faces in this category and…testosterone.
GROUP B ‘The Not Funny BUT Think They Are Funny LOT’… those who like posing with others who are wearing character outfits (think Scooby Doo and Ronald McDonald) or with supersized plastic objects (think 6ft ice cream cones and 12ft hotdogs). They are usually pictured somehow trying to engage with the poor character or plastic object like ‘pretending’ to lick it, eat it or climb on top of it. I’ve seen quite a few ‘not funny, think they’re a hoot’ men in the last few days with oversized plastic bananas stuffed between their thighs with their thumbs raised skyward pulling a whole range of goofy faces and I wish that was the most off-putting thing I have seen too…but course it isn’t…
GROUP C: ‘The Shy(?) Ones’…those who show a small part of their face, an eye or a mouth or half a nose; their face is either only a third on camera, obscured or weirdly magnified by a pint glass they’ve just decided to pretend to drink from when they spotted the camera take aim…or they’ve covered themselves in face paint or bunny-ear-and-tongue filters – GROWN ASS MEN!
GROUP D: ‘The Ones I Just Don’t Like The Look Of’…I’ll leave that one there for now…I just can’t even process…at this moment.
GROUP E: ‘The Ones That Look Meh OK’…I can’t really gauge much from this Category, but they look the most promising and there could be some decent ones among them…who knows?!
Honestly, this is a struggle for me because I don’t go for your Beckhams or your Pitts, pretty boys or male model wannabe types, looks wise I have no type…and even when I can say ‘oooh I fancy him off of the tele-box’ it’s usually because of the character he is playing (example Cillian Murphy…but only when he’s all ‘Thomas Shelby’ with a double barrel shotgun in one hand and **slight spoiler** all taking Grace with the other).
I go for your Karl Pilkington type of man. Hysterical – there’s nobody more attractive to me than a dry witted, funny a.f. man. I don’t go for daft humour…like pretending to dry mount a five foot plastic sheep; I’d be embarrassed if I was out with a man and he started humping a traffic cone ‘to get a laugh’ – cause he wouldn’t get a laugh out of me he’d get a swift binning…and what you can dead-lift or bench-press in the gym is between you and your P.T. it’s your business I couldn’t care if it’s 60kg or 500kg – anything over 50kg for me is ‘un-liftable’ so everything thereafter is just ‘well, great you lifted a weight that is beyond my comprehension’ …and how can I decide whether I might feel an initial attraction to somebody who is only showing me their chin no matter how they’ve chosen to distort the rest of their face – although through a pint glass is more appealing to me than a bloody fluffy unicorn filter. I’m not entertaining the ‘Not For Me’ lot and I don’t know about the Meh-maybe lot…I suppose these are the ones I’m going to have to chase.
Personality is everything…the chat, the right kind of banter, a bit of intelligence somewhere thrown in…that’s the key. So whilst I’m thinking to myself, and not for the first time ‘…wtaf are you doing on this app again…?’ you’re thinking to yourself, ‘well here you are banging on about personality being key yet you’re talking about what these men ‘look like’ in their profile pictures and you’re judging them on that’….
…Well, yeah, I am…and there’s two reasons why this is so…
1). The photographs of the five categories of men I have established tells me what THEY want to show ME, which is open to interpretation BY ME…Fabulous…so let’s get started…the groups are telling me:
GROUP A: they have an overbearing ‘Interest…’ that I’m not interested in: **Reps, bench presses and protein ALL DAY EVERY DAY**
GROUP B: they have an acquired type of ‘Personality…’: **they stop and randomly pose and try to engage with stupid oversized plastic shit just for a laugh…that would get right on my… and lead to a dumping very quickly – there’s no come back from that ass-clown behaviour**
GROUP C: they are ‘In the picture but mainly out..’: **indicates they can’t be arsed to centre their face for their damn profile picture equals can’t be arsed to take me on a date**.
GROUP D: they have an ‘Overall likelihood of…’: **Hell no; Not for me**.
GROUP E: I’m really stretching the realms of possibility here ‘…but they could be the one for me…but most likely not…: **And…more information needed at this VERY early stage**.
2). I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO GO ON…!!!!????
You would not believe the amount of Fumbling men I have come across who have only given the lazy-ass [smacks of entitled] bare minimum info, which on this dating app is:
· Their name…or half their name…or initials…or stupid nickname (like ‘Gozzle’, which might mean something hysterical to their friends but indicates ‘twat’ to me).
· Age (…MANDATORY).
· Distance between their and my location (…CALCULATED FOR THEM BY FUMBLE).
· A profile picture (…you can’t sign up without one, so again MANDATORY).
…and THAT’S IT!!!! All I have to go on is name/part-name, age, distance and an often unclear picture.
Which leaves me trying to decide between:
Gym-rat: Baz, one year older than me, 3 miles away, over-straining in the gym – and needs to train his skinny little legs to match his ridiculously out of proportion biceps…or cut down on the steroi… **steak** …SORRY, **STEAK** and [protein] **SHAKE**.
Daft-ape-eth: Chaz, five years older than me, 5 kilometres away, licking the nose of a 5ft dirty-ass garden gnome which makes me think his IQ is stunted.
Obscured-face: Daz, three years older than me, between 3 and 4 miles away, with a blanket over his head.
NOT my type: Maz, my age, 6 kilometres away, looks like he’s standing IN a prison cell…and he ain’t in Prison Officer uniform either **no word of a lie** – yep, the distance Fumble calculates we are apart ties in with the nearest prison to my current location. Can you imagine me starting a conversation with Mazza… ‘So Maz, you’ve been a bad lad, what you in for hun?…Yeah babe, course I can wait til you’re tagged and out…the things we could do and places we could go whilst having to abide by the imposed 4.00pm til 10.00am curfew that’s been imposed upon US’.
Might be OK: Naz, two years older than me, not far away, giving NOTHING more away…well actually he did give something else away, BUT I just didn’t notice IT until I swiped him right thinking… OK… let’s get the ball rolling by taking a punt with Naz…he stands out from all the rest…because…errm…he just has a normal profile picture really where he didn’t have a dumbbell in his hand and strained look on his face, wasn’t gurning over a ten foot plastic mermaid with his hands on her equally plastic tits, wasn’t covered in clown face paint with a bushy green wig and didn’t look like he’d just been run over and in need of urgent medical assistance…
…so I do…lol…yeah…’I do’…the irony of it…take a punt with Naz, I swipe right and he’s already swiped right for me, he thinks I’m worthy of chasing him, so ‘DOOM’ we’re a MATCH…my messaging privileges have kicked in…let’s see how THIS pans out…
****BIG DISCLAIMER – Gozzle, Baz, Chaz, Daz, Naz, and especially Maz
ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED – BECAUSE I’M NOT TRYING TO RUIN ANYONE’S CHANCES OF FINDING LOVE WHICH THIS POST OTHERWISE MIGHT JUST HAVE ACCOMPLISHED HAD I NOT CHANGED YOUR NAMES****
Next Post, Coming Soon… ‘When I [ever so briefly] Fumbled With ‘Naz’...with this series of experiences also ‘Coming To An End Soon…’, cause I don’t think I can take much more…it’s just desperate on Fumble…and it’s killing my brain off…and my ‘hope’.