The Cheeky Charmer continues their New Year’s quest to find a wife
BY THE CHEEKY CHARMER, IMAGE BY SHVETS PRODUCTION VIA PEXELS
It’s been a while and I’m not convinced this is how I’ll find “the one” but meeting IRL is still not what it was pre-pandemic. I log into Plenty Of Fish and 120 people have liked me. It’s a mini dopamine boost but I can’t actually see any of them because I haven’t subscribed. So, 120 blurry faces fancy me. I’ve still got it…
I accidentally click on the “live” function and immediately click out again, panicking I’ve stumbled into a sex room. I haven’t but the Cheeky Charmer gets all freaked out and has to breathe into a paper bag for about five minutes.
Then I receive messages from three women. Three! We’re cooking on gas now baby!
The first says: “your profile pictures make me laugh.” I’m not sure whether she means in a joyful way or whether she’s just trolling me.
The second asks: “Is your hair a wig?” Now, either this woman is trolling me, or she really needs to learn how to flirt. Or my hair looks like a wig… 🤷♀️
The third says my profile reminds her of “Princess Diana’s life in pictures” and I am totally confused because I don’t remember the Princess Di pics where she drank a beer. Or dressed as a Ghostbuster. Or stuck her tongue out just to show the ladies she had one.
I switch to Tinder and am immediately bombarded by underwear shots. Now, I’m a sucker for ladies in underwear as much as the next but, when it’s on a dating profile, it doesn’t do it for me quite so much. I like seeing lingerie best during “sexy time” (yes, I called it “sexy time” which is probably why I haven’t been getting any “sexy time”🤦♀️).
Then I find it. The classic profile that haunts all dating apps. The one where every photo contains about 75 people and you’re like, “which one are you?!” And you can bet they won’t be the one you fancy…
I log into a different app and match with a woman who’s only picture is of a plant. An actual plant! Unless she is a plant? Maybe I’d have more luck dating vegetation? 🤷♀️
Then I find her, a woman I fancy, and immediately run out of “likes”. It’s like the algorithm is fucking with me 😡
If this is a video game, I’m stuck on level one.
By now, the scrolling addiction is so bad, I’m flicking between five different apps. It’s like Pringles: “Once you pop, you can’t stop.” I’m in danger of developing swiper’s finger. Which sounds like a STI caught from too much scrolling.
On the plus side, I’m reminded I have options. That there’s so many women out there I haven’t met yet. I get a little dopamine rush every time someone likes me.
The more I scroll, the more I’m reminded I’m alone. It’s like being on the world’s most depressing merry-go-round and I can’t get off. The dopamine gives me just enough to keep holding on. But the never-ending void of anonymous faces blur into one, opening-up a hollow emptiness in my heart. The irony is, I’ll be back tomorrow for another round of swiping.
DIVA magazine celebrates 28 years in print in 2022. If you like what we do, then get behind LGBTQI media and keep us going for another generation. Your support is invaluable.