Suzan’s Tinder date doesn’t seem like the independent women| kek mama

After two weeks of texting with a man who, in addition to looks, also seems to have humor, Suzan drives to the wine bar for her very first Tinder date.

“Give it to me”

I can see it at a glance, the first choice of my long list of Ware Jacobs. A tad older than his pictures, but attractive. He’s already ordered wine. I give him three kisses, quasi-nonchalantly – for God’s sake let our audience think we’ve known each other for a hundred years. “Give it to me,” I wink at the waiter, pointing to my date’s glass. “It’s not cheap,” he warns: “I’m quite a fan.”

independent woman

For a moment I am of my apropos. Was this a hint that I wasn’t actually supposed to order it? Does he think I’m one of those gold diggers who immediately picks the most expensive one on the map? Or is he just trying to impress in the wrong way? I decide to be clear right away: “It doesn’t matter, life is too short to drink bad wine, and isn’t this why we work so hard? Would you like one more?” Rule number one of ‘Dating For Dummies’: Always be in control. My best friend and seasoned Tinderaar told me an hour ago via a quick good luck wishing app (“If you haven’t heard from 11 a.m., I’ll call 911”).

But my First Jacob doesn’t seem to like independent women, he says. “They all draw up their own plan, don’t iron shirts and are in bed with the neighbor within a month.” He orders a plate of indefinable balls that I, as a clearly labeled vegetarian, don’t eat, and gets bogged down in an endless monologue about his exes (“After all, they’re all after your money”), his job in IT (“Yes, no, I reluctantly go there every day, but the alimony makes me stay”) and his aquarium hobby (“I have four ‘bins’ in my living room”).

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Tikkie of eight euros

Those looks, suddenly I don’t see them anymore. And what I still interpreted as humor via the chat, turns out to be deadly serious. As he prepares to order a third round of wine, I suggest asking for the bill. He accepts without murmuring and proposes to split the bill. God, how Dutch, with its expensive wines, I think and say: “Well, didn’t we do that in high school? This one was mine.” On my way to the parking garage I get a message from him. It is a photo of a receipt, followed by a ‘Tikkie’ for eight euros. His text: “How sweet that you treated us this evening. I had already advanced the glass I ordered before you came in. Do you still want to transfer that?”

“You can’t get it in your head!” my friend screams when I call her well before eleven, screeching with laughter to tell her about the incident. I ignore her advice and press ‘pay’. I send my date a screenshot of the payment receipt and write: “Please. Buy a glass of it – for an independant woman who does want to date you.”

This article previously appeared on Kekmama.nl

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