The Private School Tinder

Date and location of meeting: August 2015, Sydney

What I wore: Black denim skirt, grey high neck top, navy parka with gold zip, ankle boots. Second date; black pinafore, grey turtleneck, cream oversized blazer

What he wore: skinny jeans, leather shoes, grey scarf, grey wool coat. Second date; button up shirt with bowtie  and tuxedo (I kid you not)

I matched with Private School Tinder in August, shortly after Musician Tinder had trampled on my heart. Quick to get back on the Tinder bandwagon, I’d decided that PST would be the last person I would meet (lies, lol).

He suggested getting a coffee on a Saturday in Surry Hills. I was standing outside the coffee shop when Private School Tinder walked over from behind and kissed on me on the cheek by way of saying hello. He was cute and very tall (6″2). When we entered the coffee shop, he asked me if I drank coffee. I replied that I didn’t, and he then ordered a tea for me. I liked that he had taken charge.

The coffee shop date wasn’t great though. I couldn’t relax in front of him, I couldn’t stop thinking about how sick I was of Tinder dating. After the coffee shop, we walked around a little chatting and went to grab ice cream. Private School Tinder was a year younger than me, ‘born and raised’ in Balmain, had attended private school obvs, and worked in finance.

While on our coffee date, he said a number of things that you can only expect someone who was born in Balmain and attended private school to say such as ‘how’s life living out in the sticks?’ While eating ice cream, we talked about our past travels, and he said that he had visited his godfather in the UK a few years ago. Private School Tinder described his godfather as ‘a big deal’. When I asked for clarification by what he meant by this, he gave me a look like I was crazy and said that his godfather was a billionaire. PST then went into saying how it looked especially tiring to be a billionaire as his godfather’s days consisted of meeting people all day, shaking hands and what not. Seems to be a tough life for billionaires these days.

Private School Tinder was quitting the finance job soon and was working on a startup with his brother, that their father was funding. That, and the admission that his best friend who had moved to New York, was relying on PST’s dad to get her a job in New York, as well as having a billionaire godfather, led me to think that PST was rolling in dough. I’ll admit it was hard for me not to fantasise about summers yachting around Italy and living in a mansion next to the beach.

We parted ways after eating ice cream, me thinking that was the last excruciating Tinder date I would ever put myself through (lies). But two days later, I got a text from PST saying it had been great meeting me, and asked if I wanted to do something ‘fun’ that weekend.

Private School Tinder was attractive and tall, but by no means was he the alpha male type that I would hook up with after meeting once. I texted him back saying that I was only up for PG13+ fun, and we made plans to have dinner and drinks in the city that weekend.

PST Tinder met me in Chinatown that Saturday night, dressed in a button up shirt, bow-tie, tuxedo, black pants and pointy leather shoes. I felt woefully under-dressed and deeply regretted that we hadn’t discussed details of our outfits earlier. We walked to Surry Hills to try and get a table at a Japanese place that I had wanted to try, but I hadn’t made a booking beforehand. PST had left the date planning up to me which made me slightly annoyed.

We ended up eating at an izakaya nearby that wouldn’t have been quite as good as the original place I had intended to eat it. I left PST with the task of ordering drinks and food at the bar, and heard the tremble in his voice as he struggled to pronounce unfamiliar Japanese names. While we were eating, there was much awkwardness and discomfort on my part. The whole time I was sitting through the date, I kept thinking ‘this is the last time I’ll ever do this’. The lack of chemistry was palpable.

The one redeeming feature of the horrendous date was that PST had a habit of saying hilarious things that could probably go on the site Things My Pretentious Friends Say.

We were discussing the nightlife scene in Sydney, when I remarked that the clubbing scene in Sydney is totally racially segregated. PST agreed with me and then began to spurt off all the clubs in Sydney that fit into this category, such as Soho, which is where all the ‘pretty, prissy girls go’ and Candy’s, where ‘all the white trash goes’. I found the last admission to be totally hilarious.

We went to grab drinks at a Japanese whiskey bar around the corner before my friends called asking if I wanted to join them for drinks at a mutual friend’s place. I said yes and told PST I would be joining my friends in Marrickville, and PST’s response was that he had ‘never heard of anyone saying they wanted to go to Marrickville’. There was nothing else for me to do but laugh.

As PST walked me to my Uber, I shivered and he said that people usually said he was good at keeping them warm. As the Uber pulled up, I turned to him to say goodbye and we shared an unexpected, passionate kiss before I jumped into the car.

Two days after that, he texted me saying how nice it had been to see me, and asked if I was free for dinner the next weekend. I said yes, but when the day rolled around, I never heard from PST. Now, he taunts me with pictures of him and his new girlfriend on Facebook.

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