Can True Love Be Found On Tinder?

Can True Love Be Found On Tinder? I got the idea from a review website which gave out paid trial memberships to singles looking for love. I cannot remember what the website was called, but I remember one reviewer saying she approached others yet was completely humiliated because she got no interest back in return.

Feeling inspired, I wanted to see for myself if it is possible to make a romantic connection online. As Tinder is the common acceptable form of finding love these days amongst people my age, I signed up for a three day experiment to see if true love can be found of Tinder or if it only deserves its infamous “booty call” title.

On doing research for this project, I found a couple who met via Tinder who are now engaged. There were also articles (such as here) which spoke of the negatives of online dating. This expanded my experiment to see if I would experience any abuse from potentials.

I had three key rules:
1. I would not include a photo of myself – even if one was requested.
2. I had to be 100% truthful during all communications – IE. no pretending to be something I’m not, like something I don’t etc.
3. I would not judge men on their photos and/or profiles. Each and every man was considered a potential.

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Potential is a dirty word

As someone who has at times struggled for months to find a suitable job, I’ve come to an conclusion – potential is a dirty word.

It is. It really truly is. Potential to me is like, “hey, we think you’re totally neato* but you suck just enough that we’re not going to hire you.” It can get really really depressing when you’re constantly told that you have potential for every job that you apply for. I’m not too fond of “we’ll keep your details on file in case a situtable position comes up” either, because, let’s face it, that rarely ever happens! I think my details are on every database possible and I still never receive a call back.

There’s a problem in this country when it comes to applying for jobs when you’re in the middle of the pack – you’re either over qualified or not qualified enough. So they tell you to be enthusiastic to make up for your lack of experience but naturally they’re going to hire Miss/Mr Enthusiastic With Experience. And just because you may be bad during interviews, it doesn’t mean that you would not do a kick arse job in the job.

The job market is so fickle. You may not get hired for saying ‘like’ once during an interview, for wearing too much perfume, for having a tattoo, for having too many piercings, for wearing nail polish, for your skirt being too short. The list goes on and on and on.

So to all my fellow potentials out there, I say this – If you can’t get your dream job; go out and make that job! Work hard. Strive hard. Believe in yourself. And above all else, find your sparkle. It will tell you which path you should take professionally.

*Yes, I was interviewed by Greg Brady.

Why Working In Retail Is The Worst Idea For A Minimalist


A couple of years ago, I needed some extra cash for a holiday I had coming up. It was around Christmas time so the easiest job to was as a Christmas Casual at a shoe store.

Shittiest. Idea. Ever. Working in retail has to be the worst idea for a former-hoarder/wannabe minimalist. During training you are told that you must try and sell customers extra shit they don’t need so you can make a few extra bucks to your daily sales record – “it’ll be fun,” they said. Also, if the shoes don’t fit, you have to convince customers to buy extra shit to make them fit. “Try this jelly shoe insert. It’s super comfortable and sure to do the trick!”, you say choking on your own lies.

They say the worst thing about working in retail is dealing with the customers, but on a whole, I actually found that to be the more enjoyable part of my day (more interaction = less sales) – well, except the “too cool for school” teens (they won’t give you the time of day) who came in looking like cheap hookers. Where’s self-respect gone these days?

The hardest times were the people would say they don’t need a new pair of shoes or that the current pair they were trying on was just like a pair they already own. AND you still had to sell to these people! With forced smile and through gritted teeth, all I wanted to do was tell them to do something more worthwhile with their money – because there is no better job satisfaction than someone going bankrupt because they bought too many pairs of shoes. Bah humbug.

My War on Pimples

For some people it’s a battle, for me it’s an ongoing war.

My skin is fairly good, not overly oily and not usually too dry (unless I’ve been obsessively scrubbing my face and over experimenting with cleansers) but unfortunately I am faced with reappearing acne as well as blemish marks that don’t seem to completely disappear. The problem areas for me are my chin, forehead and that annoying area between the eyebrows. Every time I seem to have a breakout or giant rebel pimple under control I discover a fresh set or new pesky pimple has popped up overnight. *face palm*

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Why is a raven like a writing desk?

No. Seriously. Does anyone have the answer? That Mad Hatter, damn him and his adorable hat, has kept me in suspense for years.

No one knows? Ok. Let’s work this out together… a raven is a bird and birds often sit/nest/live in trees… and a writing desk is made of wood… also from trees… so this means… absolutely nothing. I’ve got nothing, people!

I seriously think Tim Burton should write a film where a raven meets a writing desk and Continue reading

You can call me Bridget!


Previously published on Cry Little Sister.

I have made it a tradition of mine to watch Bridget Jones’s Diary every year around the start of a new year. I can’t help but see the similarities between me and Bridget and how much I empathise with her life every time I watch the movie.

And although you’d more likely find me dancing to Stutter by Marianas Trench rather than crying along to All By Myself by Jamie O’Neil, and I may not wear such gargantuan sized knickers, but like Bridget, I too have worked in publishing and have always thought of a job in broadcasting. I’d make some hilarious notion at the job interview about having shagged my former boss, we’d both have a good laugh and I’d be hired on the spot. Sadly though, movies aren’t true to real life and if I was to state such a fact I would be looked upon in the most terrifying manner.

I should make it clear that I didn’t shag my former boss – a crusty old lesbian whose teeth were similar to that which crawls out of Mordor. Someone who would make working with Mr Titspervert feel like heaven in comparison! Let’s put it this way, I would have thrown her arse into the fires of Mount Doom long before I ever referred to her as my precious. Although I can’t deny that I am guilty of some minor office flirting over email on one or two occasions with members of staff.

We both dread being asked the question feared by all singletons, ‘how’s your love life?’ My public speaking skills also rival Bridget’s, as does my skill to continue to ramble to random strangers. I don’t however wear see-through clothing to the office, and no one has ever referred to me as a verbally incontinent spinster who smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish and dresses like her mother. Probably a blessing that if I did want to take up drinking or smoking, I’m too poor to afford such luxuries or pay for the expensive lung cancer bills it would lead to in the future.

So came the end of the year when I too, like Bridget, realised that unless something changed soon I was going to live my life where my major relationship was with a bottle of wine and I’d finally die fat and alone and be found three weeks later half-eaten by Alsatians. My life could so easily slip into that of Bridget’s that I made a major decision. I didn’t do the cliche thing and buy a diary – but I too vow that I don’t want to next year end up shit-faced and listening to sad FM, easy listening for the over 30s (oh god, it’s coming!)

I do like the idea of it – Mallory, hard-headed journalist. Even though I would rather interview a Kardashian (and lord knows I dislike the Kardashians*) than a high-power attorney, even one as dashingly-handsome as Colin Firth.

And although my new years resolution isn’t to find a nice sensible boyfriend to go out with, I will be also not form any romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, commitment phobics, Peeping Toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits or perverts. Although who knows, maybe there is a “Darcy” who likes me just as I am in my near future. Given, he must own a fetching reindeer jumper 🙂

* All personal feelings aside, I do actually admire the Kardashians for turning their name into a brand.


Why I’m forever destined to be labelled as a “Crazy Cat Lady”


Originally posted on Cry Little Sister.

I once dated a guy who I later found out was allergic to cats. Did I give up the chance of potential Mr Right for my cat? No, I didn’t, but I knew one day I would have to make a choice – and my cat would always win. Always. Sorry, Prince Charming but you never stood a chance.

Does that make me crazy? If so, sign me up for the crazy cat lady club. I will even put my hand up for president. These days it seems like any single lady who owns one cat or more is labelled as a ‘crazy cat lady’ when clearly that is not fair.

But here’s the thing, when it all comes down to it, having a cat is pretty much like having a man anyway.

When I need someone to talk to, my cat is always there. Sure, cats don’t give any helpful advice and they never really listen – but that’s pretty similar to a lot of men.

When I want someone to keep me warm in bed at night, my cat is always there. Cats snore too loud and they often weasel their way in between your legs – but that’s pretty similar to a lot of men also.

And, unless you’re one of those lucky ones who has a man who likes/does cook, than you’re pretty much in charge of feeding – just like you would a cat. And let me not mention, the most frightening of conditions they usually leave the bathroom in!

Now, I know what you’re going to say. What about when it comes to sex and intimacy? Let’s face it, it’s not really that hard to go out and find someone willing to give you a cheeky pash or one night stand if you’re feeling randy.  Sure, your self worth could plummet, you risk numerous STDs and you could feel like a cheap hooker, but at least your cat will be waiting for you at home to make everything all better again.

– M

This post was inspired by all my crazy cat lady friends out there! We have decided that weekly crazy cat lady meet ups would be a good idea to get us out of the house every once in a while =P Also, note this article is riddled with sarcasm and stereotypes.