Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart and I do have emotions. In December, I matched with Aaron, a professional working in finance in the city. (I was still in school at the time.)

The first time I met Aaron, it wasn’t a classy night. We went out with other people, got drunk, and did the deed the first night. (I know, right? I KNOW.) Aaron told me from the very beginning that he wasn’t interested in a relationship and didn’t want anything serious, but as time went on, we started to get to know each other, spend time together, and I started to have some serious feelings for this man. We surfed together, cooked together, and watched our favorite TV shows together. (And he was awesome in bed too which is quite contrary from many of my stories here..)I ended up staying at his place for half the week because his place was close to my job, and it started to feel like we were a real couple to me. He was my best friend.

Long story short, things didn’t work out between us and I was now stuck in a city where the only person I knew was a former sex partner turned quasi roommate turned awkward friend.

I moved up to the city (how convenient, I am finally closer to him) for work and even more recently I found out that he went out and slept with another girl from Tinder the same night het met her. (I’m hoping that I am slightly funnier and wittier than her even though we both banged this guy the first night we met.)

Although this seems like a bleak story, there are things that I have learned from this disappointment that nothing else could teach me. There is nothing like investing into somebody who never felt the same way about you the entire time. It’s hurtful, it’s eye opening, and it teaches you a lot. Here are some things that I have learned from Aaron that I owe to him.

  • There is only a certain amount of time you can give to somebody without getting anything in return. We are not unconditional beings. The kind of romantic love you can give to somebody can only go so far before you feel disappointed and crushed that those feelings are not returned. There comes a time where you have to realize that continuing to love without giving back is only hurting yourself. Give yourself some self respect and find somebody who loves you the way you need to be loved.
  • Don’t stay with somebody out of comfort or fear of the future. I think I realized two months into dating Aaron that he wasn’t somebody I could be with long term. There were characteristics of both of our personalities that weren’t compatible, and I often fell asleep feeling alone and detached, even though he was physically right next to me. (On his back snoring at times.) I was so terrified of tackling this new place on my own, not knowing anybody, and I clung to the comfort of having familiarity although I was not happy. I am still alone. I still don’t know many people, but at least I can contribute my discomfort on my own decisions, not the decisions of somebody else.
  • Do not lower your expectations of romance when he stops putting in effort. There came a time when Aaron stopped pursuing me like he used to. He used to plan dates, find fun spots and things to do, and it was all part of the honeymoon stage where we were infatuated with one another. As soon as he felt comfortable with me, it became more and more of me cooking at home and me feeling left out when we went out with his friends. I would justify this by telling myself that girls place too high of expectations on men when it comes to romance, and that I should be cool about it. While this is true and while Instagram and Facebook often give us skewed ideas of how everyone else is celebrating their passionate love with flowers, sunsets and coffee art, when a guy likes you and wants you to feel special, he will let you know. While there is comfort in routine and not having to show elaborate displays of affection, don’t ever downplay your yearning for love and affection to be shown.
  • Love who you are without your significant other. If his insecurities and my insecurities have taught me anything, it is that loving yourself with or without somebody gives off a radiance that no one night stand or Tinder match can. Loving yourself doesn’t just mean you think you are pretty, but it means that you treat yourself with respect and dignity to not bend over backwards for somebody who wouldn’t budge an inch for you. Don’t be afraid to give to somebody, but don’t give up everything for just anyone.

I hope these words of advice can be something you can relate to. As i write this post, I am still single, I am alone, but I’m not lonely. There are times when I crave Aaron’s company and the familiarity of him, but that’s when you have to say goodbye to the person you once knew and start accepting the fact that your relationship will be different. I didn’t have a heartbreak, but I had a heartache. But that just means more Tinder dates and more crazy stories for you guys, amiright?!

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I am literally cracking up writing this right now because it is such a ridiculous story.

I have a thing for guys who surf. It’s my kryptonite. That doesn’t mean I should go and let anything that rides a surfboard ride me.

Meet Randy

I matched with Randy before moving to LA. He was a South African surfer, accent and all, who moved by the beach to pursue his illustrious career in professional surfing. He had a gorgeous face, a nice body (well at least that is what the pictures showed) and an adorable accent. I was stoked.

Well, unfortunately for me, Randy was also a 25 year old toddler. He preferred to text in unnecessary emojis (His favorite was the alien) and would never give me straight answers when I asked him questions. He would constantly invite me out 5 minutes before they were leaving, (Also, No! I am type A. I need to prep.)

One day I was in the area and Randy happened to text me and see if I wanted to grab a drink. I agreed (Here was my big chance to become famous in the surf world!) and headed over to his place. (He told me he’d drive us to the bar. I did not break my dating rules.) Once I got to Randy’s house, he invited me inside for a beer. We small talked in his garage (He tried to do the “let me teach you how to play pool move”) Before he asked me “Do you want to see my suuuueeerfboooard?” (Yes he did say it that way. It was the accent.)

I should have (and did) know that his suuuerrfbooard was his peeeeniss but I followed the idiot in my pants and went to his room to see his ONE surfboard that was in his room before he and I started to do the nasty.

Now I am not one to bash one a man’s sexual performance, (actually I am,) but for being such a little hottie, little Randy lasted about 2 whole minutes before his over excitement overCAME him. It was a little disappointing and even stranger when he began pawing at my lady parts. (He must be on some special South African reefer because I had no clue.)

This is when I decided to gingerly put my undergarments on and head out of there. By then, Randy was on the phone with his “mates” and didn’t seem to care about what just happened so we bid each other adieu and I slipped into the darkness…forever..until I accidentally did it again with him in a moment of weakness months later…


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Normally, it’s awesome to have the upper hand in a relationship. I don’t mean this in a sadistic, mean kind of way, but more of a bitchy, “I love making a guy work for me” mentality.

That being said, there comes a point where having the upper hand can be way too much.

Introducing: Carl. (His name has been changed to protect his dignity.)

Carl and I matched on a balmy Sunday afternoon. I admit, I was slightly buzzed after a lovely drunk brunch session with my best friend, so perhaps he was more of a Benefit of the Doubt Swipe. His profile stated he practiced yoga, liked being outdoors, and was a nice guy or some other bullshit guys put.

Either way, as soon as we insta-matched (Thank God,) his overeager message popped into my feed. It said something about him checking his email and my match popping in and yadda-yadda. He seemed nice enough but as we continued to engage in conversation, I felt like Carl was way eager to meet me. I don’t like being asked out within 3 minutes of matching. It’s creepy and I haven’t had time to social media stalk you/ find out the necessities.

Carl gave me his number after I stopped responding for ten minutes, said “You’re probably really busy but here is my number please text or call me when you have time,” and when I did end up texting him, it went downhill from there. Here is an example of some of his messages: (NOTE: This is all in the same day when we first started talking!)

“Wanna do yoga at 8 with me?”

“Oh you’re running errands? Want to go grocery shopping with me? I can meet you.”

“I get a different vibe with you. You’re different. I’ve done this before and I know you’re different.”

“After busy season at work is over, wanna go wine tasting with me?  I would love to take you to the Central Coast or to Temecula.”

After that text, I was convinced that this guy was really desperate and/or a killer. Oh, and did I mention that he is 27 and lives at home?

I stopped responding to him the next day (The buzz wore off,) and got multiple text messages including these gems.


I hope the flash didn’t go off when he took that picture. Also…don’t tell a girl you see her. Even if you use a pun.


What the fuck? Why would you send this to me?

I don’t know how to say this without saying it, but “NO! NO! NO!” No matter how many times you ask to hang out or “Accidentally meet up at the same bar with some friends,” my answer is no! My subtle non-replies and short answers did not get through to him until I got this that same night. Trust me, it was worse than it looks


I swear to you this was literally some rock song I never heard and his voice just singing with the song. This wouldn’t even work if he were Ryan Gosling.


I can’t get the one guy I’m fucking to commit, but I can get random stranger over here to record me record himself singing over a song?!

Nevertheless, I had to straight up tell Carl that he was way too much for me and that I was not interested. He graciously accepted this fate and I was left with nothing but faint memories of our love and of course, this AMAZING, high quality sound byte that he recorded in his mother’s home.

Man, I love dating.


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Drunk Brunch

For all you deprived, sad human beings out there who don’t know what drunk brunch is, allow me to introduce it to you. We all know what brunch is, thanks to our most favorite reliable source, Urban Dictionary:Screen Shot 2014-02-27 at 9.25.49 PM

Drunk Brunch is literally the same thing except you drink those damn mimosas until you’re drunk. Drunk brunch is a great way for my best friend and I to catch up after one of us has a shitty week// begins dating somebody new. Topics of my last drunk brunch with my bestie included:

1)  Threesomes. (It’s decided. I will not participate in one.)

2) Dirty Snapchats. (It’s really hard to take an artistically angled pic of your kitty, ya know?)

3) The Lego Movie. (For the love of all things that are good, I will NOT see that movie, no matter how many people tell me about it!)

Drunk brunch is not just a meal. It’s a moment where friends come together, drink out of classy glasses (Unless you’re at Cabo Cantina where they literally serve you mimosas in plastic cups,) put on clothes that don’t have an elastic waistband, and talk about meaningless things that sadly take up space in our minds.

I highly recommend it. It personally makes me feel like I am in Sex and the City. But instead of rich, successful Manhattan bankers and martinis, it’s full of fratty bros and weirdos and tequila shots.

To each their own.



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I’m Back.

okay. I know I’ve been gone for a while, but there was a good reason.

With all of the crazy debauchery stories over the internet, I  had to reconsider my professional and personal life and decided to take it down.

I thought it might be a good idea to tone it down and stop blogging for a bit until the dust settled down.

Now that it has,  it’s a good time for a comeback. It’s getting warmer, I’m getting spring fever, and hopefully the Tinder boys are out to play.

I think that we ought to clarify the purpose of this blog. It has never been my intention to hurt anyone or make fun of anyone, (okay maybe make fun of the idiots that I’ve encountered,) but I always want to keep my identity anonymous and the identities of these Tinder men a secret as well. We all have our dignity and our day jobs to protect, after all!

From now on, this blog will be dedicated to life, shitty, funny moments, and the things that learned along the way. Of course you can expect some Tinder stories in there, because after all, the name of this blog is Tales of Tinder, and knowing my luck, I won’t find prince charming but I will have some amazing drunk brunch stories to tell the next day.


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I know the title basically sums it all up, but this story is too good to give up. Before my crazy Tinder days, I wasn’t exactly the most experienced woman. I hadn’t been having that much sex in a long time, so when this happened, it was just too much.

I met Simon who was from Europe and moved to LA to work in engineering (I love foreigners and I love smart men so I was excited.) Simon was very kind when we chatted and texted. He was sweet, rather shy, and really looked forward to getting to know me. The first time we met up, we went to sushi and had a nice date. He was definitely more shy and reserved and insecure than guys I was usually attracted to, but I was in a dry spell and wanted to see where this could go. Our first date was very PG and we said goodbye.

Simon then asked me to come up and hang out a few days later at his place. Please note: His place was literally 60 miles away from my place at the time. I was debating whether or not I should go, knowing exactly what would happen. My idiot self decided to fill up the ol’ gas tank, hop on the 101 and drive up there. Simon lived in a suburb/farm town in the middle of nowhere. This should’ve been a sign. I had to make a pitstop at the local CVS to grab some…necessities (I did get the stink eye from the middle aged mom named Peggy who was my cashier) before I headed over to Simon’s house.

Within five minutes of me arriving there, he handed me a glass of wine, took his clothes off, and was butt naked while I was still clothed and sipping my wine. Immediately I should have left. What is up with men having this soft, skinny fat body? Under his dress shirt he hid a small belly. Under his pants he his a massive dick.

Now I know that size matters and bigger is better, but there gets to a point where too big is TOO BIG. I kid you not, it had the girth of a plastic water bottle and was just as long. It kind of just…swung there..

Poor Simon was such a nice man, but he also had no idea how to use his mantool. He climbed on top of me, gave it a few thrusts and began to squeak. I kid you not. He started to squeak. Like a little mouse that couldn’t control his noises.

Call me crazy, but it’s a bad sign when a woman lays on her back and starts to laugh, which is what I did. I quickly excused myself to the bathroom, threw on my clothes and made a quick excuse saying I wasn’t ready for sex. Obviously Simon was not pleased with my escape plan. He threw a fit, (not before asking for “at least a blowjob”) and sent me three massive texts about me hurting his feelings and his ego on the drive home.

I learned a lesson that night. Never sleep with guys who aren’t at a level of confidence and security that you want, and USE LUBE when he has a whale penis!!

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I am always up for laughing at my experiences for the sake of a good story, but this one is absolutely CRINGE-WORTHY.

Meet Bobby.

Note: Bobby and I actually have kept in touch and are friends. I also have not bought him new sheet.

Bobby and I met on Tinder. He’s a bit younger than the guys I go after, but he was fun to talk to and we got along. He told me straight up that he was looking for a girlfriend. This was during my Tinder debauchery days, so I was only there for fun so we established that we’d just be friends.

After meeting up once at 11pm at some trendy ass pizza place on the Westside (where I didn’t eat anything because Bobby is crazy Paleo or something dumb and I didn’t want to appear a fatass,) I went over to his place the next weekend to hang out.

After an awkward thirty minutes of watching TV, he asked if I wanted to go to stay the night and go to bed. I said yes. After getting ready for bed because I came prepared and brought my toiletries, (Yay for being Type-A!) We got into his bed.

Note 2: I promise you, as an honest blogger, that I never intended to have sex with Bobby. He wasn’t my type. I swear.

But yes, we did have sex. After a few awkward minutes of thrusting, we went to bed, only for me to wake up a few hours later and realize that I had started my period. In his bed. Our second time hanging out.

After scrambling to find a tampon, I woke him up, explained to him the situation and apologized profusely. Seriously, I have not felt this bad about something in a long time. Bobby had some nice sheet set with Egyptian Cotton and a WHITE COMFORTER. I know.

Thankfully Bobby is an awesome guy and didn’t mind that I had literally shed my uterine lining all over his bed, but that made for an incredibly awkward conversation. Getting ready the next morning was literally painful (because I was cramping/ seeing what I did to Bobby’s sheets.)

Good News: Got to know a good friend real quickly

Bad News: I bled in a guy’s bed.

You win some, you lose some.