Us Kiwis are pretty great at nearly everything. We’ve nailed creating C- list celebrities, vorteke’s, and arguably pavlova. However, we have our weaknesses; our most prominent being casual dating. It’s either a forgotten name or a marriage kinda thing over here- the inbetween is, quite frankly, no man’s land. Who am I to comment on this, you may wonder? Well, I’ve been on more first dates than the actual bachelorette. Second dates? Now, that’s a touchy subject. The inability to ‘just see where things go’ for more than one night out of the bedroom ceases to be the forbidden fruit of our generation. Actually, no, not just ours- did I mention it? I’m dating with my mum. 

 

I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not as great/ messed up (whatever you’re into, I guess) as it sounds. Although far too often than I’m comfortable with, we have had the same guy go for both of us, knowing our relations; we are dating separately, simultaneously. Not going to lie–she’s quite the milf, so her genuine success rate is higher than mine, but we are thoroughly disappointed with everyone’s inability to casually date hence our single status. You’d have thought the twenty-year gap would have allowed her dates to learn, grow, and be more trained in acting like a human she might want to see again. Unfortunately, this is not the case, and to make matters worse, the age gap also does not phase the people I date who are often too excited to hang out with their potential mother-in-law. 

 

Dating apps are by far the easiest way to prove our point. The fish photos don’t seem to expire at the age of thirty. Alongside our least favourite catches of the day are the classic hunting, group and BMX pictures which have led to us being catfished big time. We sought the catfishing issue may have been eliminated with the release of Hinge, which forces users to answer prompts, record their voice and enter their height- but it turns out it’s pretty easy to lie, and in turn, making us feel shallow and too polite to bring it up by the time we are face to face. Let’s call these dates category (A). They don’t get too many people falling into their trap and tend to get obsessed after a single date. Category (B), however, consists of a dating profile of Film photos (usually pictured with their hot ‘cousin’), and they’re too cool for school spotify linked to their dating profile. These fine specimens will charm you, play it cool, fool you into thinking they actually listen to elevator music, promise to see you again and then disappear into thin air once things become slightly serious (I’m blaming the Bermuda Triangle!). 

 

It does not get better in real life, either. I’ve often ignored my friend’s criticism when showing them who I’ll be meeting and used the excuse, ‘Oh, I’m sure they are better in real life!’ more than the number of stars in the sky, and I’ve been proven wrong every time. Forget banter, though; one date managed to pee himself on my bedroom carpet picking me up for dinner (He didn’t address it, Nor did I, we went to dinner, and I’ll never forget the smell). I like to think that I made him nervous as hell, but after dinner spent talking about pokemon cards and myself pretending to be interested (a skill I’ve now mastered), I concluded that as much as I could act like it, he wasn’t the one for me *act shocked*. I then went home and scrubbed the pee out of my carpet. Not quite the spicy night I imagined. 

 

Many of you would argue that dating apps aren’t the place to find someone you actually want to date, but dating in the wild is far more terrifying. What do you mean I can’t stalk your tagged photos before I give you my number? It’s a double-edged sword- like, what do you mean you’re asking me out for a drink without seeing my thirst traps? Also, the line between whether they are being friendly or actually flirting is quite impossible to see, especially when being attracted to all genders. This confusion often leads my mother and me into the trap of attracting love bombers. They draw the line of how they feel very loudly and clearly, creating the cause of us believing that anyone doing any less is not interested and, on reflection, possibly the root of all of our issues.

 

In case you’re thinking about it too, I have looked in the mirror and wondered if I’m the problem. I have the attention span of a five-year-old, and my only strategy when it comes to dating is to make the other person feel so awkward that they get confused and call it love (works a charm, FYI). However, I’m aware of my flaws and willing to negotiate. For example, I’ll pretend I’m not allergic to your cat or that I like that you work out (dad bods for the win, sorry!). 

 

So, if you don’t hit on my mum, want someone who won’t bat an eyelid if you piss yourself on the first date, and now knows a lot about Pikachu, I might be the one for you. So avoid the fish photos and don’t lie about your height; you might have a chance- with me (or my mum!).