Last week I matched with a girl called Ellie on Tinder. She looked good in her pics and she sounded intelligent and funny in her short bio. She didn't say much about herself, she just joked about a bad tattoo and her enjoyment of crap reality TV, and said she was hoping to meet a nice boy for a relationship. In the final pic she was playing with a dog on a beach somewhere hot, wearing a blue bikini, and she was laughing, maybe at something the photographer was saying.
I messaged her and she messaged right back; it was easy and fun; no awkward pauses or forced banter; no complicated diary negotiation; we were both free and arranged to meet the next day. I don't mind admitting that I've messaged a lot of girls on dating apps and I've been on lots of dates and Ellie seemed different. Not that I've slept with lots of people, things seem to fizzle out after a few dates, and the truth is you can tell when it's not very exciting from the start.
We met at a quiet pub overlooking the river in Wapping on a warm Tuesday evening. I was early and as I sat by myself on the empty decking I wondered if I'd get stood up, but she was right on time. She was different to how I imagined. Smaller, more nervous-looking, but immediately friendly, and prettier than I expected. Her nervousness and smile put me at ease. She insisted on getting the first drink and I watched her as she bounced down the steps into the bar, her hair tied up in a cute bun, her short light denim dress contrasting with her slender tanned shoulders.
When she returned she said she didn't know what I wanted so she got us both some kind of fruit daiquiri, and we both laughed at how it tasted of soap and Turkish delight. I learned a bit more about her. She's a student doing a master's degree in geology at Imperial College, and for some reason I found this deeply appealing.
"Surely you must meet loads of guys at uni?"
She laughed.