When you meet Superman on Tinder

Dating has unsurprisingly been a bit sparse recently, but of course there is always good old Tinder to fall back on for some light hearted entertainment. I have been checking out the German dating scene as of late and I have to say, the one thing guys internationally have in common is a lot of them seem to be bursting at the seams with a rather unhealthy dose of shall we say, self-confidence? If you are a guy and up in arms now, rest assured the same applies for my own sex, but then I don’t check out other girls on swipey sites.

Now, to demonstrate by way of example, let me tell you about a little story about Superman. Oh yes he is on Tinder, I promise you. Incognito of course. I actually had a couple of dates with him too, which I shall address at another time. He is a prime example of an overflated ego really killing the vibe.

First of all, this is a quick reminder how I view this whole Tinder lark: It’s an internet platform on which you swipe left or right based on a selection of some god knows how old or airbrushed photos and if you are lucky a few meagre words. Take note: ALWAYS swipe through to the last pic if you are seriously interested in someone. They can age by 20 years in five pics. That this is hardly a basis to make an informed decision about your future life partner should go without saying. Now let me get this straight – in my particular situation, both myself and my match will be of a certain age. With a certain amount of life experience and we are most definitely no virginal spring chickens anymore. So wether we like it or not, I’m pretty sure we are by no means perfect and absolutely second hand. Sorry.

If it goes well and you eventually strike up a conversation with someone that goes past a ‘Fancy some fun’ to which my answer is normally ‘no thanks, got that covered very well already so I’m not messing about with some unknown entities in this area, because, quite frankly, I rather watch Netflix’ (This never goes down well, but in my defense there is a lot of good stuff on Netflix these days). One thing I can absolutely not stand one bit is the guy thinking he is the best, biggest, longest and what not ever and super duper anyway. Mate, we just met on Tinder. Don’t get me wrong I like a confident guy, who knows what he wants but you can take it a little too far very quickly. So Superman was saying quite a lot of the right stuff, but he did occasionally slip up. When we had a conversation about shaving his chest and I asked why he didn’t let it grow, the dead serious reply was ‘because grass doesn’t grow on steel.’ Okay, so your body obviously is your temple. Fair enough. Better let this go. Still, as you can tell it stuck. Didn’t entirely put me off though and we ended up doing the deed but then it got a little much. Actually very much too much.

I’m sure we can all agree that unless you’re untouched by man or woman, first times are rarely fireworks. They can be good, full of potential, satisfying, but the greatest ever? Hardly. Superman thought so. As in absolutely best thing that ever happened to me and ever will. No doubt about that. Not vice versa of course, I didn’t even get a close second – and yes that stung. I was secretly quite impressed at first at this solid display of overwhelming self-confidence but after a while it started to fall a little flat. It’s somewhat unsexy when a guy continously blows his own trumpet like this. So unsexy in fact that you start to loose interest even if you thought at first there was potential. At which point Superman reverts quite quickly into Clark Kent and who ever notices that guy, right?

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