A very life-like fairy tale of a 20-something year old girl sharing her dating life Peaks and Valleys With the Universe.

When You Finally Understand What Dickens Meant.

“It was the worst of times; It was the best of times.” As puzzling as this quote and whole novel was to millions of people, I found myself trapped in a situation that could not be described any better than the way Sir Dickens said it. It was truly a paradox, a dream come true in the form of your worst nightmares. Let me start up by simply saying; I met this man on Tinder.

I don’t know if it were the magical cheeky streets of Barcelona, or the fact that the weather was perfect, and the beach was packed with six-pack studs and A-list models, or simply that I had one of the greatest hair days in years, but something made me wake up that morning feeling like a million bucks.


On paper (Tinder Profile), he was the jackpot. As soon as I swiped right, a match was notified, and it sent me straight to the 9th cloud. We chatted for hours; he had one of these classic-nerdy attitudes. Like a Starbucks poet-only this guy knew how to dress, speak, and have good hair days. Although he worked at a 6-8 boring job in an accounting firm, this guy had the buzz of a Kardashian.

Our first date was only meeting for a drink in a small bar on a street around the beach. What was supposed to be a 1-hour awkward outing with a stranger turned out to be one of the best dates I’ve had my whole life. Love at first sight? Maybe not, but something very close to it.
I was crushing like a teenage girl over a boy band hottie. Only it felt a hundred times better because It was possible to grasp the dream. We kept on walking for hours, talking about everything that came up in our heads. He was an amateur photographer and kept taking snaps of the city the whole way. We suddenly found ourselves finishing the entire city and back at the beach again by 10 pm. A kiss on the cheek and an hour later, just as I was heading out with the girls to have dinner, I found a text from Mr.Perfect.

“I miss you, let’s do this again, Now!” I couldn’t believe it, was it possible that men have decided to throw away all their emotional availability issues and finally be able to act the way they felt? Could this be a new era of my life or the whole dating scene where men became closer to human than ever?

20 texts and 20 minutes later, I found myself in the same bar ditching the girls and living a Barcelona dream. God those black curls hit my weak spot like rocket ships. As crazy and not advisable as this next move was, I did it feeling like pixie dust was in the air. We rented a small boat and decided to stay up late and watch the sunrise together. As both cheesy and dangerous as this sounds now, months after the endeavor, I assure you it felt like heaven doors were open and pleaded for me to come in and make myself at home.

It was 6 am, and I was mesmerized by God’s greatest paintings on earth, Him (because who cares about the sunrise). We were standing outside my hotel, acting flirty, goofy, crazy, or simply indescribably happy and deciding how to spend our life. Yes, you heard me. Less than 24 hours later, we were talking kids. It was like this man is the male version of Carrie Bradshaw, So out there.

How did that night end? Read the next sentence and you can only imagine the sound of my heart crushing like cornflakes in a kids mouth.

” I can’t do tomorrow before 9 pm. My wife and I are going fishing with her parents.” Although I am not a cardiologist, I could almost swear that a wave nearly identical to a heart attack shook my whole body. What did he mean? I was very hopelessly wishing a wife meant something else in his language. But no, first because we spoke the same language and second because he confirmed that he meant the general noun for; married to him.

Needless to say, he had a good slap in the face coming from an a crushed woman in her 20s’. I cried about it for an hour before I went to bed, with only one thought being repeated in my head; He was like a $5000  to-die-for shoes . A pair you kept staring at from the shop windows and dreaming you will be able to afford . You pass by one day to find out the shoes are now for $20. You search your pocket and wallet and bag and the entire house and discover you only have $19.5, and that my dear friends is exactly how helplessly crushed I felt.


I love those unique finds. Check this link❤️


I happen to be a firm believer of two concepts that probably have been directing my actions for quite a while now:

  • Do not judge a book by it’s cover (or a guy by a textual conversation via cell data)
  • Don’t ask why ? Ask Why not?

Although they sound like quotes of the day put on a breakfast cereal box or shared by your aunt on Facebook . I can assure you one thing ; These two are the reason behind both extremely painful and extremely hilarious stories.

All this brings us to Mr.Vanity. A character of which I’m sure at least 60% of us has gone out on a date with at least once in our lives.

Not so surprisingly  – since my blog title is tinderdiariez after all-I met him on tinder. I was traveling with a friend , whom herself was going out on a tinder date that night. Hence I felt the need to occupy myself in hopes that if he is not going to be the father of my children , he will at least make an interesting night.

I swipe right , and the rush of having a match in seconds lifts up the day by 5% . We have a very routine conversation. (how r u?where r u from ? what do u do?) Only this time , it was me doing all the talking and him answering. At first , it bugged me , but then the small feminist inside me refused to believe I want him to initiate everything & I chose to ignore it. You know , gender roles and all that.

We decide -despite the bland taste to our texts- to meet up the same night. In hopes of maybe we are shy and can do better in action? And again, because why not?

The date was exactly 32 mins. Why do I know the exact number of minutes ? Because just like the last class on a school day , I was counting them till its over.

This is where my first mantra failed me , I should have – at least in this case- judged the hell out of the book by its cover.

But what made it so intolerable ? Not his shyness (He is not), Not his lack of conversation skills ( He can sure make up well-ordered words out of that -average- mouth)  but it was his persistence on showing me that he is the fairest of them all.

I found myself sitting with a man whom only speaks of his accomplishments , his life , his work , his fans and not even having the slightest curiosity of what do I do , or like , or live like.

We reached a rock bottom point on our date , where he was done with things to say about himself so he started indirectly attacking the city I lived in , the field I work in, women ,the hotel I’m staying in (which was the four-seasons , I don’t understand how do u attack the four-seasons)  and even the drink I ordered for the date.

At this point , I lost my ability to fight for the night , lost my tolerance , and simply stopped speaking another word (which I don’t think he even noticed)

This is where my second mantra failed me . Sometimes why not does have an answer. Like maybe because he thinks  he is John Cena (which I believe would have done 1000 times better)

I kiss him on the cheek , fake an emergency and tell him we should definitely do this again!

Maybe I was too humble for him, because he ghosted me , and my Lemon mint juice as if he were having a date with himself alone.

Anywho , I wonder if John Cena is on tinder. And if he is , does he swipe in other locations? Say the middle east?

That Damn Coffee Machine

I remember the day I got that coffee machine. I remember what made me go out and decide I want the hippest , coolest , most modern , high tech coffee maker in the store.

You were coming over at night , and my old coffee maker used to leave a rusty taste in the coffee . Which was not suitable for such admirable guests.

It was our second date. I promised to make you coffee & lemon cake. So I went out and bought that expensive coffee maker.


Little did I know , that the day will come where with every sip of coffee Ill have your face to remember. As if the bitterness of the coffee was not enough to leave an after taste.


I used to love it , Pinterest it , I saved for it multiple times , and then You were the reason I finally had it. Just like everything else.

My security , my happiness , my calm , my adrenaline. I used to pin them , and wait for them until You became the reason behind them.

And now all I’m left with is a coffee machine that reminds me of how quick do I fall for people. Of how irrational do I spend for the people I admire.

All I’m left with is a bunch of capsules of your favorite flavor … One that I pretended to like , though it tasted like dirt. I call them the capsules of regret nowadays.

Damn me , and the coffee machine.

Timing is Essence. 

It’s 6 am where I am right now.

I have tucked myself in 2 hours ago , fully convinced I’m drowsy and can have a good night sleep. And obviously , without any luck, I stay wide awake as an owl.I have never been before in a phase where I cannot sleep because I miss someone too much.

I miss him. Him and his tenderness. I miss the way he needed my existence like I was O2. I miss every little detail , it’s actually burning the pit of my stomach. Like someone is holding all my intestines in a fist and twisting in.

What keeps me up is the thought of not finding someone like that again. Someone so sweet and with such devilness all at the same time.

Perhaps , it was not him who was so special. Perhaps the timing was optimal.

Perhaps we both have never been loved before. Yet the second we found some kind acceptance , we did it the way we saw it was being done in the movies

Perhaps it was not crazy fires of lust and fate burning our fascias. Perhaps it was only timing. Optimal timing. Two desperate souls in need of tenderness , that met at an optimal timing.  I only have hope that that is all it was.

First they ghost U, then U win. 

Not to hide from you , I kinda rank in between Chubby & Fat. Not that its that much of a difference. I’m not a little chubby that you can look it over , but not too fat that I need a documentary on TLC recording my transformation.

I and many girls who fall in the same circle can assure you , it has not been easy . We grow up just like everyone else , believing we are pretty creatures who have the right to love and be admirable.

We even don’t notice how different we are from everyone else until someone decides to remind us of our failures. I personally fall short in accomplishing a goal I have been running to reach my whole life. No matter how much I try, willpower is not my cup of tea. 

Leaving all that pity party aside , using Tinder was one of the biggest alarms of how little idea do we have on what the real world is.

We believed what we were told as kids , beauty is on the inside. And that -my friends , is the biggest dilemma we will ever face. 

It was not clear in the beginning , or maybe it were but I refused to believe it. I happen to have a photogenic face that hardly depicts my body shape status.

First, they super like you , or simply you swipe right to any prince charming and you get a match . Afterwards, they keep nagging on wanting to see that pretty face in reality in no time.

You agree , knowing the consequences of that little lie your face doesn’t show . You dress up like you have never dressed up before , you meet and there you see it. Right in between those average eyes that have nothing to do with the pictures you swiped right to , Disappointment!

You keep wishfully thinking , and California dreaming that they don’t mind that little “extra extra” you have on the side and before you even leave the premise , you feel them ghost you.

And 75% of the time, maybe more but to avoid exaggeration , they do ghost you. It bothers you , for the next 24 hours , it bugs you.

You remember the tender ex that didn’t mind , and the one before him that loved it this way and it leaves you asking one question.

Were they your last chance of true love , or does that mean there is still some good chubby loving fish in the sea? 

The Tinder Dream

It has been quite a while that I’ve been religiously active on tinder. Whatever reason that may be , I always came back for more.

The few bunch that knew about my shameful secretly buried tinder account always asked me this question. What do you expect out of it?
Every Time this question came along , it left me puzzled as I have absolutely no clue what am I waiting to happen!

Do I imagine that my prince charming on a white horse is swiping right 6 miles away as we speak?

Or do I see myself fierce enough to have random attachment free hookups and first dates?

I may have used my ultimate self-defense mechanism move and said that I’m just having fun.

But truth is that the ups and downs of tinder do affect me and may have played a role in building or wrecking my self-esteem with each first date or say the least a match.

But seriously , what do we really come for? Can you imagine yourself telling your kids ” We both swiped right” and then we had you?
Or are we really going with the flow here , and digitizing our social and romantic experiences by simply dragging someone’s hopes and dreams right or left?

And if so, is that really dangerous ? Or is it just a way a society develops and gets through?

Till the secret unveils , it only seems that more and more of us lonely zombie-like beings are going to keep coming back for more.

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