SWIPE, DATE, REPEAT By Dee Leigh

By Dee Leigh

LOVE CAN BE HARD AT THE BEST OF TIMES, BUT IMAGINE HAVING TO SIT THROUGH 50 DATES TO FIND IT!

Here within these pages, is a true recount of a single woman's dating experiences. Some stories are funny, some are sad, and some are just downright scary. Then throw a pandemic into this mix of online dating dramas and discover just how difficult

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawline Publishing Group
• Release date: Sep 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781922594310

Dee Leigh

Dee Leigh was born and raised in Melbourne and has remained ever since. She spent her adult life working in schools and has found her role as an educator rewarding yet at times often challenging.She chose to dabble in writing during lockdown and to share her unique experiences of her dating life as over the years she has kept her friends greatly entertained with the many crazy stories on her dating adventures. It was for them she wrote this book...a single mother of two children who are also very proud of her and this book, Dee trusts all who read will see that they are not alone in the madness of the single world...

Book preview

When my marriage ended in 2010, it devastated me. We had been married for twenty years and we had two beautiful children. Our marriage had been over for many years, and even though I was the one that ended it, I was still extremely sad; nobody marries to get divorced!

I was still young at forty-one and I always thought that when the time was right to get back on the dating horse, things would be easy... Nothing could be further from the truth and absolutely nothing could have prepared me for what I would endure over the next decade.

I spent the first twelve months of my new single status in isolation. Apart from work, home and spending time with family, I didn’t go anywhere. I had little social interaction. Until I made a new friend, connected with some old friends and began venturing out again. Like I said, I thought it would be easy to find a new mate and live out my happily ever after with them. I think I have a lot of excellent qualities that would make me appealing to the opposite sex.

Aesthetically, I’m relatively attractive. I may not be a supermodel, but I can still pull off a little black dress better than most women half my age. I’ve been blessed with my father’s Mediterranean skin, so when I tell people my age, they can’t seem to believe it.

I’m a Physical Education teacher, so I’m quite fit and active, coupled with the fact that I was a bit of a gym junkie for several years. In my forties I was in the best shape I had ever been in my entire life.

I had a good job that paid well, so I was financially independent, and even though I went through financial strain early in the divorce, I still owned my own home.

Personality wise, I like to think I’m intelligent, witty, wise and caring. I would feel just as comfortable having high tea with the Queen as I would watching the footy and drinking beer with the boys. I’m pretty adaptable that way. Not many social environments have ever made me uncomfortable, I am loved and respected by those that are nearest and dearest to me. Having all these qualities, I expect the same from a mate.

My selection criteria for choosing my prospective mate are as follows:

1. Physical attraction. One of my close girlfriends once told me that I’m a little superficial on this front. I beg to differ. I feel you need to be attracted to someone physically, before you can go any further. I like a nice face, kind eyes and an athletic physique. I am not looking for something I’m not prepared to offer first.

2. Financial stability. I expect a man to be my asset and financial equal or superior. I never want to support a man. I don’t expect it, so I want the same in return.

3. Personality and sense of humour. That’s a given. I love a good chat, and someone that can put a smile on my face. This is imperative. A good education is also important to me. I like fun and games, but I also want to be with a person I can have an intelligent conversation with.

4. He must make a positive impression with my kids, family and friends. The people around me are my world. They are all extremely important to me and if a man is going to accept me, he also needs to accept all those around me.

At the time I didn’t think that my selection criteria would exclude almost every single man in Australia!

When the time came, and I started my single life as a women going out on the town with my girlfriends, I found that eligible males came in 3 categories.

1. Boys will be boys. There are males out there that just want to hang out with their mates. They aren’t out for female interaction. They just want to have a few drinks with the boys, get drunk, and go home.

2. Kids will be kids. There are those out there that are young, fit and handsome. They see an older women and think they are IN! These boys are a dime a dozen. They have this... ‘I’m going to get laid by a cougar’ mentality. You can stumble over these boys at any bar or club you visit around town. You don’t even have to look, they are just there!

3. And finally, this is the one I want to delve deeper into... The eligible, hot, older guy! Let’s face it! As we get older, women and men look after themselves differently. (Such a generalised statement I know, but it’s been my experience). Older, single women tend to look after themselves a lot better, after all, they are looking for a mate. Men... not so much. I would have to say, for every middle-aged, single handsome man, there are ten gorgeous, single middle-aged women. The competition is rife for females.

Anyone that says that they will approach or interact with a member of the opposite sex they are not attracted to is lying. I know I’m guilty of this. If I’m approached by a man that I don’t find attractive, I’ll make polite conversation... then I walk away. They might be the nicest person in the world, but if there is not that initial attraction, well then, it’s not going to happen. Which brings me back to males in category three. The hot guy!

Over time, and there were quite a few occasions when I met someone in a bar and my thinking was... ‘Hello! You’re hot!’ And we chat for a while. The problem is, these men know they are attractive and they know they can attract anyone they want. As the night wares on and the drinks are flowing, there are always two scenarios... and one outcome.

Scenario A. The Huntress. These women are older, very attractive and very drunk. They see a gorgeous older man, knowing that attractive older men are limited so they don’t care that he is chatting to someone else. These women have been there, done that, got the t-shirt and are up for a night of fun. They saunter around, provide provocative conversation, and there goes your hot man! I’m sure his line of thinking would be... why work for it, when I can get laid tonight!

Scenario B. The Ego Boost. Whenever I have gone out, dressed up, makeup on, sexy heels, brimming with confidence, I like to think I look pretty good. I look in the mirror and think... If I were you... I’d go me!

And then I go out! I think I look amazing... Then, I crash and burn.

I saw a meme not long ago; it was of four beautiful women, and the quote read: ‘me and my friends when we go out’. Underneath that picture of those beautiful women was a picture of The Golden Girls and it said: ‘me when I actually go out’. That’s how I felt sometimes. I know that when I have gone out, I look good, classy and elegant. Then I get out there! There are these pretty young things, that are twenty years younger than me, they have their sexy outfits, six-inch heels, flowing locks, eyelash extensions, and their main purpose for the night is to find a sugar daddy that will pay for their drinks all night.

I don’t blame these girls, really. If I was single at their age, I could very well have done the same thing. But here’s the thing from my perspective. If I’m deep in conversation with a guy, let’s say for argument’s sake he’s forty-five, and he’s chatting with me, and then a gorgeous twenty-five-year-old in a mini comes over and begins battering her eyelids, where is he going to go? I can tell you! To that pretty young thing. Success! Ego boosted. It’s happened to me time and time again.

It’s got everything to do with their masculinity and nothing to do with connection! These men I’m talking about are good looking. They know they’re good looking, and they know they can pull anyone they want. Why work for someone their own age, when they can pull in a twenty-five-year-old Kardashian clone they could potentially go to bed with that very night?

It just became too hard! After trying things the NORMAL way, I went away with some friends for a weekend. They suggested I should try a dating website. One of my friends even set up a profile for me on a site called RSVP. Since that night, I’ve been on countless dates and just as many dating sites. While so many people find their match within the first five, ten, fifteen dates, my perfect match has eluded me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated. I had several short-term relationships and I did go through a phase where anything goes, but it didn’t last long. I realised that it just wasn’t me. It was fun while it lasted but I came to realise I didn’t want short-term or one-night stands. I wanted more. A deeper connection with someone.

One day my son suggested Tinder. He even created my profile and chose my photos. After all, that’s where he met his girlfriend, and they’re happy. Tinder was a different concept to RSVP. I liked the fact that you only matched with people you were interested in. If you like their profile, you swipe right. If they like you and you get the right swipe from their end; it’s a match. A left swipe from either end, no match and you are none the wiser.

So here goes, in no particular order, buckle up for my online dating experiences and enjoy the ride.

1. Max.

My very first swipe on Tinder was a left... No thank you. My second swipe, right… Hell Yeah! What do you know? I matched with Max! On my first right swipe! So now what? What is the protocol? Do I message him first? Do I wait to see if he messages me? This was all new to me and oh so exciting. Am I being too forward by sending the first message? I decided to continue swiping. I must have swiped around forty times. Out of that forty, I might have swiped right about ten times. Out of that ten, eight were matches. This was unbelievable. Unlike RSVP I actually matched with those that I wanted to be matched with. All of these guys that I found attractive also found me attractive! Can you imagine my self-esteem? It went through the roof!

Within the first hour, Max sent me a message. How cool’s that? We chatted briefly and then he asked to meet up for drinks the following night in Richmond. We discussed meeting somewhere central and settled for Richmond, even though technically it was way closer to him than me. Richmond is a forty-minute drive from my end, but about ten minutes away for him, however, I didn’t mind driving that little bit further. After all, there wasn’t much going on my side of town. But here’s the exciting thing. I was going to have my first date with a guy within twenty-four hours of joining Tinder!

The following night, which was a Friday, I got home from work, had a shower and started getting ready. I was quite excited. I did my hair, had my makeup down pat and chose my outfit, a pair of skinny jeans, a nice top and my killer heels. I looked hot! My daughter’s comment when I walked through the door was, ‘Wow mum. You look amazing!’

I hopped in the car and headed out. Now anyone who knows me well knows that I’m never late for anything. I always give myself plenty of time to get to wherever I’m going, you know, plan for anything that might delay, traffic congestion, road works, car park. Being late makes me anxious. The running joke among my friends is... if Dee’s five minutes late, call 000! I can’t be late, even if I tried! I will probably even be early to my own funeral! I left home over an hour before our designated meeting time.

I arrived at the bar with fifteen minutes up my sleeve. Sat in my car for a while, and bang on 7.30 I walked in the door. I had a look around and there was nobody there that resembled Max. I sat down and ordered a drink. About ten minutes later, I get a message from Max to say that he’s running late and he will get there shortly. Great! He lives ten minutes away, and he’s late. It took me a good forty minutes to get there, and I still managed to arrive on time.

I waited. Drink in hand, feeling awkward. Then about fifteen minutes later I saw him walk in, as handsome as his photos, but... he’s tiny. I’m around six foot tall in heels! Standing next to him, I could see the crown of his head! Maybe height should be in my selection criteria?

We sit down and have a chat. At least in a sitting position, we are at eye level. It begins with just general chit chat. Work, likes and dislikes, travel etc, but he quickly steered the conversation to a more personal level... bedroom talk.

Now, I’m no prude, I’ve had my fair share of adventures, but to talk about this with someone that I just met makes me really uncomfortable. I tried to steer the direction of the conversation to other topics, but it kept going back to the same place. He even suggested several times that we head back to his apartment.

No chance, buddy! Even though I liked his face, I wasn’t a fan of his personality (or height, if I’m being honest). After around an hour, I told him I wanted to leave. He offered to walk me back to my car, which was parked a fair distance away in one of the side streets. I naively thought to myself; at least he’s a gentlemen and won’t let me walk back to my car alone. He held my hand as we walked to my car. He kept bringing up the fact that we should head back to his place. We must have looked a sight. Kind of like Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban!

Once we reached my car and said our goodbyes, he asked if I could drive him to his car as he was parked a long way away. Here’s the thing; and I never seem to learn my lesson. I think everybody is good until they do something to prove me wrong. What do I do in this situation? Do I be a bitch which doesn’t come naturally to me and say bad luck? Walk back yourself. Or do I do what I deem is the right thing and drive him to his car?

Being the person I am, I do the latter. He gets in the passenger seat of my car and I drive him back to his car. His wasn’t even that far away, maybe 200 metres. Once we get there... now what? We say our goodbyes again and he leans over for a kiss, not just any kiss mind you, a full-blown pash and his hand goes straight to my breast. I couldn’t pull back fast enough.

Ok mate, out you get. Bye! Don’t call me, I’ll call you... see ya!

Well, Max did message after that, several times in fact, still trying to get me back to his place, trying to entice me there with a home cooked meal and a promise that he would be gentle with me. I’m not one to ghost people, I think that’s really rude. I did message back and told him as politely as I could that I wasn’t interested. He got