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Dating in Your Late Twenties...

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Amongst the humdrum of phone calls and meetings that are an essential part of office life, we all try to have a ten minute catch up 'by the water cooler', as I'm sure everyone else does around the globe. There tends to be lots of talk around nights out, latest clothes purchases, football and, of course, dating. With this in mind, one employee (who shall remain nameless) decided to put pen to paper and lift the lid on what dating is really like in your late twenties. Here is her honest and rather humorous account! 

It all seems fun in the start... ‘I’m single, I’m free, I can do what I want’.

Get a few months down the line, however, and it's more like ‘I’m fed up, I’m bored, I’m lonely'. In my opinion, this tends to be how it goes on the dating scene in your late twenties. Then you have a lightbulb moment ‘I know, I’ll join Tinder, POF, Bumble or that new one Hinge’ (if you’re in a happy relationship you may not know that these are the current, popular ‘dating apps’). Night times are spent swiping left and right on these local ‘eligible’ bachelors, many evenings you spend swiping (mainly left) on said apps, only to receive a strange message or a questionable image in your inbox (lads - this is not normal behaviour please stop!). You hear about your friend’s, friend’s, brother’s nephew who ‘met the love of their life’ on one of these apps. I think the chances of this are one in a million but there is still a slim chance, so you sit and continue swiping (mainly left) usually out of boredom and to make yourself feel better about yourself (‘Oooh, at least someone finds me attractive’). Well unless you’re a 6ft 5 male with abs of steel, a tan and some big guns or a size 8 female with an ample chest and a Kim K bottom, who looks 10 years younger than they actually are, who looks smart but a little bit naughty at the same time, then basically chances are you’re going to get a left swipe (hate to break it to you).

Many times I have let my friends go online and swipe for me, next thing you know 50-year-old Keith, with one tooth and no hair is direct messaging you asking what you what your favourite snack is and you’re looking at your phone puzzled as to how this man has managed to contact you. So basically you give up on the app, you’ve had it for a week and your starting to get creeped out by the amount of 'questionable images' you are seeing on the daily, ABORT MISSION! *deletes app* So, your friend, who is now feeling slightly sorry for you and fed up of your third-wheeling regime, decides she is going to try and set you up with her boyfriend’s friend (yes you’re very likely to be the only single one left in your friendship group by now). So you agree, ‘Okay invite him to your house party and we will see what happens’. It’s house party night… you sit waiting and drinking your gin and tonic hoping that the set up goes to plan (not even seen a picture of the guy yet), blind date turns up slurring his words and stumbling around.... I don’t know what ‘my date’ had been drinking but I’m certain it wasn’t orange juice... ABORT MISSION.... ‘I’m feeling unwell - time to go home.’

A few weeks and lots of lonely Friday nights in the gym later (there are a few fitties there actually but it’s such a cliché, ‘Scuse me, mind if I do my squats in front of this bench you are on?’), you’ve re-added your Tinder app and are spending your nights swiping left (again) watching Coronation Street whilst eating a (share size) Cadbury’s Dairy Milk re-consuming the calories you worked off at the gym.

 TO BE CONTINUED…
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