It was actually too good to be true. Or rather, he was too good to be true. Guy, my latest Tinder match, was one in a million. He was from Paris – l’histoire se répète. He was hot, smooth and – lucky me – in Amsterdam for a week. “I’m going to visit some friends,” he said. But that week of visiting friends quickly turned into a romantic mini-vacation with me. And that’s what I needed, after the last few flap turds.
get ice cream
I suggested a first date myself. “Shall we go for an ice cream?” I asked in the afternoon on that sweltering Tuesday (A crème glacée is another mouth full right away). Ideal, such an ice cream date in the summer. Because: it’s more original than ‘having a drink’ for a first acquaintance, it’s delicious low keyyou immediately get to know someone’s taste, it would just be a sexy vibe and when the ice cream is gone, you can quickly squeeze out again.
Once on a bench with our ice creams, however, I didn’t want to run. Was the ice cream intended as a cooling, I got it hotter by the second from Guy. He was even more handsome in person than in his profile pictures, he was smooth and showered me with compliments. He was nice and flirty, but not too much. He occasionally touched me just a little too long (touché), so that not only my balls of limoncello melted like a crazy. After I had finished my gelato, we did another round of Vondelpark and said our goodbyes: kissing in front of my apartment.
In the same boat
I wasn’t quite sure what Guy’s Amsterdam schedule looked like for that week, but the next morning he checked in with me right back. “Bonjour belle! Are you going to sail along the canals?” he suggested. Not only for tourists but also for me still one of the best ways to experience Amsterdam, from the water. I got into a boat with him, we went out to dinner and that night he stayed with me. We knew that with 38 degrees it would probably be the hottest day of the summer…
Also the next day Guy stuck. It seemed as if those friends he was going to visit didn’t exist at all (amis imaginairs). Guy was on vacation with me in my own city.
We were inseparable for five days. I even took Guy out for an evening to meet my girlfriends. Which in my group of friends amounts to ’meeting the parents’. They all agreed with me: “This is your man!” The butterflies in my belly worked overtime. Guy seemed to have everything I was looking for. He was attentive, sweet, caring, called me all day’wifey’ (he needed to know how well I’m going on that). And he was already hinting at a future together. He would move in with me in Amsterdam or I would face a life as a Parisienne. Anyway, things looked rosy for me with this stud.
The following days I showed Guy my favorite places in 020. I was his local guide. He got all inside information, plus some nice extras… But all good things come to an end; he had to go back to the real city of love. We both had knots in our stomachs. But, “Paris was only a five-hour drive” (where had I heard that before) and we could visit each other every weekend if we wanted to. With my flexible work I could even quietly book some midweek Paris. May this romance last forever… Long Live Love.
After a long snooze, he got into his Audi on Monday morning. Apart from his first Monday in Amsterdam, he had not seen a friend. We had, however, experienced the ultimate holiday love together. It was the summer of love.. a delicate daydream.. (singer Shawn Mendes already sang in my head)
Tinder date in the extension
“Got home safe?” I texted him in the evening. Then never to hear anything again. The WhatsApp check marks went from 1 gray (Perhaps the battery of his phone is empty), to 2 gray (He has received it) to blue (He just saw it and does not respond?!). It was also quiet the next day. The Tinder Swindler strikes again… Guy probably had a different cutie in every town and with me the ultimate Amsterdam experience arranged for themselves. For him, this had probably just been an extended Tinder date. Clever boy. And well, why would you keep in touch afterwards? Ghosten is the trend and if it ever visits Amsterdam again, the next one is local guide only one swipe awaynot true?
And I? Apart from the fact that I surprise myself by being a hotel debot so quickly again and again, I am no longer surprised. I keep turning my senses off a little further and by the time I ever get fished out of that dating pool I’ll probably have an ice cube where my heart once was (insert: Icebox from Omarion). On the other hand, I’ve had a vacation sweetheart without having to book a trip. And that ghosting comes naturally. Never mind!
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