I’m a bit of a loner. Always have been, convinced I always will be. But that doesn’t stop me from going on dates. I like dates. I like people. People are interesting. Here are five of my worst Tinder stories as told through famous literary characters.
1. When I was twenty-two years old, I went on a date with this cutie who ordered a Jameson and ginger, took one sip, and decided it was just absolutely too strong. We then traded drinks, and he sucked down my gin and tonic and let me talk about myself for the better part of two hours. At the end of the date, he told me I was “the most interesting person he had ever met,” and considering he was a twenty-eight year old twice divorced Republican, I believed him. There was no good night kiss.
Dude was as boring as Nick Carraway and just as memorable.
Image via Turn the Right Corner
2. At twenty-three, I made an Elizabeth Bennett sized mistake and ended up dating a George Wickham-esque nightmare I met off Tinder for just over six months. Beautiful, but unemployed. Charming, but a royal asshole. His golden locks distracted me from his shitty attitude and before I knew it he had me eating from the palm of his hand until months later when I finally opened my eyes and saw him for what he was. A dipshit.
“Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends—whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.” Yup, that sounds about right.
Image via Bustle
3. “There is something rotten in Denmark…and it’s his piss-poor attitude!”
The Hamlet of my dating mistakes, this dude never stabbed my father but he might as well have. The first time I introduced him to my parents he called my father’s cooking “mediocre” and my mother’s kitchen “cluttered”. He never shut up about the “women of his past,” how awful they were, blah blah etc etc who cares, and when I called him out on it, he would wax poetic and flail dramatically and somehow, it was always my fault. We lasted three weeks.
4. At nineteen, I dated one of the hottest people I had ever met. Part Narcissus, part Dorian Gray, this dude primped, preened, and plucked more than I did. The first time I tagged along to his bimonthly manicure and eyebrow wax he peer pressured me into getting my eyebrows done despite my continued insistence that I am allergic to wax. I mean, I guess peer pressured isn’t the right phrase. I’m petty as hell and so willingly did it just to spite him. Post-wax, he complained every time we went out until the allergic reaction went down and I stopped “ruining his image”. Ladies, he’s still single!!!!
Image via TV Tropes
5. And last but not least, the Lord of the Rings character. On our first date, he brought three friends. Totally Frodo, right? Except how the date actually went was he told me we were getting food, and then instead we went clubbing from 7pm to 2am and at no point did we actually get food. Clearly, he’s Sauron.
Image via Votaries of Horror
Featured Image Via Tech Crunch, Bookstr, and my own ridiculous photoshopping.