Tinderelly, don’t complain

My co-worker twirled around from her cubicle the other day and asked me if I had ever thought about joining Tinder. Not sure if there was a hidden message in her question. Apparently, her niece had found her husband that way (“We can always say we met in Paris”). My other co-worker quickly chimed in and reported that her daughter (I’m the youngest in our work group) had recently read a Tinder-story about a guy who was busy swiping left and right while his current hook-up was still in the process of getting dressed.

I was on Tinder. For a whole minute and a half. I was curious to see what was there, but I just couldn’t take it. The anxiety of just being on there was completely stressing me out. I don’t know how they do it. I deleted the app, rebooted my phone, bought a new case, took a long shower (but cut it short by 2 minutes – you know, the drought an all) and deleted every trace of ever being on that site. I honestly admire them for their honesty and straight-forwardness to just put it out there. No shame, everybody knows what they’re signing up for… No thinking about “will he call”, “if he texts, what does it mean”… No unnecessary interpreting, it’s all right there. Hooking up, nothing more, nothing less.

The girls on there are labeled “Tinderellas”… because you’re always looking for the next lay (no more glass slippers or pumpkins). I like the slippers and the pumpkins though. I need them!

I left the office and our Tinder conversation to meet some friends that were visiting from Germany. Perhaps they could distract me from this dating misery I found myself in. They wanted to do all the typical LA/Hollywood things, so we went to a diner in West Hollywood. The famous one. I absolutely adored it. I was in love with the ambience, the music, the food, the waitress not so much (I get anxious when someone cheers at me too much). The Germans – they hated it. Not completely, but bits and pieces here and there. That’s when I noticed that we complain a lot. I know… it took me a while, but it finally sunk in.

“The burger tastes like nothing”, “this is the first waitress I’m seeing with tights on”, “it’s freezing in here”, “I haven’t eaten since this morning”, “where are we going after this”, “Do you like living here?”, etc, etc, etc. On behalf of my people, I apologize. We are truly a nation of complainers and naggers. Of course we have a wide array of positive traits as well, but when you don’t live in your country anymore, and you’re not exposed to the daily attitudes and little things here and there, you forget about them.

I took them to Hollywood. We entered the city right after the Chateaux Marmont, with one girl in the back seat remarking “this is Hollywood? Not what I expected”. I took them to the Boulevard. “I’m totally flashed by all these lights”. You just can’t win.


I still know they enjoyed it. As did I. I live here. This is my home. I go to Hollywood Blvd about once or twice a week – for one, because my tea store is next to the Dolby Theater, and also, because I can. And I can leave when it’s too much or too crowded. I don’t go there to see the locals, the performers or the buildings, I go to see the visitors… the tourists. The ones who have to or want to leave eventually… To go back to reality. I get to live here… And I love it.

They did distract me from my dating and Tinder crisis for a while. I still refuse to join, simply because… well, I’m healthy and I’d like to keep it that way. I suppose nobody on Tinder wants to listen to how your day went. And I’m not keen on having that Tinderella nickname… although it is sort of cute. I’m not complaining!


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