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There's something about January that makes people feel the need to search for the next love of their life, apparently.

Maybe the new year just makes us feel just a lil bit… broody? The first Sunday of the new year happens to be the most popular online dating day of the calendar year, according to Hinge.

Whether you're hungry for a new job, a new place to settle or a new gal or guy to send all of our heart emojis to, the turning of time urges us to reevaluate parts of our lives which may feel lacking in some way.

tv land tinder GIF by YoungerTV

January 6 is so popular in terms of online dating apps that it has been dubbed "Dating Sunday", and industry experts are predicting that 2019 will be bigger than ever for the online love world.

Hinge analysed activity data from 2016 until 2018, and saw a massive spike in conversations, as well as far more dates being arranged and a much higher messaging response rate. Gas.

In 2017 there was an increase of 41 percent of people who began conversations on Dating Sunday than the week before- and in 2018 that figure rose to 59 percent. Jaysis, these numbers don't lie, do they?

perfect match art by GIF IT UP

62 percent more users set up dates on Dating Sunday in 2018, and Hinge also reported increased in daily user activity, with 20 percent more conversations being carried out and a 36 percent higher message response rate.

Singles who are seeking love clearly become influenced after Christmas ends and the parties simmer down, will you be swiping right today?

We might just go and update those profile pictures seeing as the competition is higher… bring on the messages, lads.

fox tv GIF by STAR

We're ready for it. *Winks*

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Sure look, dating is an absolute minefield.

Let's be honest here, there are few among us who don't have at least one 'First Date' horror story; a tale of such woe our friends have forced us time and time again to regale them with it.

Nevermind that the mere memory of the encounter leaves us clammy-handed and vaguely distressed, other people's dating stories are fair game.

They're awkward, they're agonising, and they're also hugely entertaining… as long as you didn't have to endure them.

And that, ladies,  is why we'll be featuring weekly instalments from Swipe Right – a blog about the ups and downs of dating in Dublin and London. 

Last week our gal comes face to face with a guy who might be too good to be true, and now it's time for them to arrange the infamous third date.

The morning after our second date, I awoke to my phone buzzing with messages. 8.39am and he has sent me six texts.

Good morning, gorgeous.”

“How you feeling?”

“I had so much fun last night”

“Really keen to see you again soon.”

“when can I see you next ?”

“Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Too late buddy. You did.

Jeez man, ever heard of playing it cool? I mean it was nice to have a guy so interested in me, but my whole 'wanting to take things slow' meant I was adverse to this blatant show of affection.

He had a whiff of wife-shopper off him.

I had said in a previous post how I would explain what the key components of a wife shopper are.

So, here goes: a Wife Shopper is a man who can be found on most active dating sites. He is usually aged 32-40.

All his friends have recently settled down and have gotten married/had babies. His Friday night down the pub group has dwindled from eight to just two, him and the one other being the lad, who everyone thinks might have a bit of a problem with the drink.

He has decided that he absolutely must meet a girl who he can marry ASAP just so he can have something in common with all his married mates who seem to now do lots of things with his other couple friends.

He is so intent on marrying he has thrown all his normal dating criteria out the window. He doesn’t really care what she does, where she lives, what she’s interested in. He just wants to bag her so he can get her down the aisle.

He often succeeds cause let’s face it the majority of women on dating sites are husband shopping too. These types of unions rarely end well, he cheats and she gets fat and miserable. But hey they’re married! Yay!

Anyway, I looked at his messages and decided to turn off my phone, roll over and go back to sleep.

When I awoke a couple of hours later, I turned on my phone and had two missed calls and four more messages from him.

“You ok?”

“Sorry if I woke you.”

Half an hour later…

“I’m off to my Mums, she does a mean Sunday roast”

“Let me know when you are free next week I’ve a few ideas for our next date."

Ugh gosh, I realised I actually had a crazy week ahead. Work events almost every night and my friend was visiting from Dublin at the weekend. The only day I was free was the very next day which was a Monday and I was loathe to go out on a date on a Monday night. He’d have to wait till next week.

“Um… Hi!! Sorry I was actually sleeping late this morning so hope you didn’t think I was being rude by not replyinG. I had a lovely night last night too. Thanks for organising it all!” I texted

He replied within seconds.

“Ah you’re awake ! No worries I saw from WhatsApp you hadn’t read my messages yet! Dreaming of me, I hope ha ha ha”

Yikes. Awkward.

“Oh ha ha ha gosh don’t even know what I was dreaming of,” I replied lamely

“So, did you see my messages about our next date?” he typed eagerly

“Oh yep I did, so ….I actually have a mental week this week. I don’t think I’ll be free till next week.”

“Whaaaattt? Really? Oh no that’s a shame, I was really keen to see you.”

Yeah no shit, Sherlock.

“Oh I know, sorry it’s just I literally only have Monday night free this week there’s just loads on,”

“Ok great, well let’s do something tomorrow then. Maybe the cinema?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh oooh I dunno I kinda just want to keep tomorrow free seeing as I’m going to be out all week.”

“I thought we had a good night last night. Is this a brush off?” he said

“Gosh no man, not at all. I had a great night too, I actually am just geniuinely busy, I am looking forward to seeing you again too I swear.”

“Ok great, great. If you’re sure. I’ll just have to be patient and wait to see you again next week.” he relented

“We’ll defo meet up I’ll let you know when  I’m free ASAP”, I assured him. “Enjoy lunch in your mums, I’ll talk to you later”

“Ok great thanks, have a great day too.”

Later that evening my phone buzzed again.

“Hey gorgeous, how’s you?”

Ugh for Gods sake, I thought, pressing pause on my stream of Breaking Bad.

“Hiiii” I attempted,

“What you up to?”

“Oh just chillin, watching Breaking Bad” I said hoping  he’d get the hint.

“Great! Sooo I’ve just finished lunch in my mums and wondered if you fancied a drink now?”

I looked down at my house hoodie and pyjama bottoms which I had been wearing all day. There wasn’t a hope in hell of me going anywhere.

“Oh haha thanks, but not a chance of me moving tonight,” I warned.

“Ah fair enough, I just thought I’d chance my arm. Some mates of mine are out in Covent Garden they are trying to get me to come in.”

“Oh cool, you defo should”, I said hoping to wrap this up so I could get back to Walt and Jessie.

“Yeah I rarely get to see them all much lately but I’m a bit tired so not sure really.”

“Ah well if you don’t get to see them you should defo go in.”

“Really? You really think I should?”

“Eh.. Yeah sure… YOLO and all that, Go have a few drinks and enjoy yourself.”

“Wow” he said “that’s really good advice coming from a PG.”

Hmmm PG? What’s a PG? Parent Guardian was the only PG I knew!

“PG?” I typed “What’s a PG?”

“Potential Girlfriend."

Oh good God. I think I just did a little bit of sick in my mouth. He did not just say that. He did not just call me his potential girlfriend after two dates.

“Ummmmm, huh?” Sorry, but I wasn’t even going to pretend this was OK..

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said potential,” he said

Oh God, this is getting worse.

“Eh no no, the potential is fine, it’s the G word I have a problem with,” I said

“Oh sorry, it was just an expression, I just really like you and think it’s great you are encouraging me to meet my mates. My ex would never have done that.” he pleaded.

“Right, yeah ok, but maybe just leave the G  word out of it for a wee while. I’m just out of a relationship as I mentioned last night so I just don’t want to be rushing into anything serious, hope that’s ok?” I explained

”Yeah of course of course, sorry I didn’t mean to freak you there, it was just an expression.”

“Cool no worries, anyway look enjoy yourself with your mates. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, hastily cutting him off.

He may have pulled a top 10 date outta the bag last night, but the way he’s acting now I’m half expecting to find a bunny boiling on my cooker top.

The next morning he sent me another message.

“Hey, took your advice last night and went out with the lads. Worse for wear now."

“Ha oh God, poor you.”

“Hey listen sorry if I came on too strong last night, I think I might have had one two many glasses of wine with my Sunday roast. I know you are wanting to take things slow and I totally respect that”

'Awww ok well that’s fair enough.' I thought. If his biggest crime was that he liked me a tad too much then I needed to give him a break.

Turns out when I told all my workmates about his PG comment his biggest crime was most definitely calling me a Potential Girlfriend. Some of them actually gasped and took steps backward when I told them.

Not even the champagne and oysters of the date could override this obvious faux pas.

But I had already promised a third date.

Feck.

To be continued….

If you want to learn more about Ariana's dating exploits, be sure to keep up to date on Swipe Right's Facebook page.

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Sure look, dating is an absolute minefield.

Let's be honest here, there are few among us who don't have at least one 'First Date' horror story; a tale of such woe our friends have forced us time and time again to regale them with it.

Nevermind that the mere memory of the encounter leaves us clammy-handed and vaguely distressed, other people's dating stories are fair game.

They're awkward, they're agonising, and they're also hugely entertaining… as long as you didn't have to endure them.

And that, ladies,  is why we'll be featuring weekly instalments from Swipe Right – a blog about the ups and downs of dating in Dublin and London. 

This week our gal comes face to face with a guy who might be too good to be true.

The Match

I have two ‘types’. Tall, dark and handsome with good hair. Or tall dark and handsome with a shaved head.

Seeing as the majority of my life has been spent living in Ireland, this has meant that those two types were invariably always white guys.

When I moved to London and first downloaded Tinder, I was greeted with a veritable smorgasbord of men covering every race, religion and cultural background, and one day, I came across this handsome, green eyed, shaven-headed black guy.

I swiped right. It was a match.

The Chat

He messaged me first with a rather mundane ‘Hi, How are you?’ opener.

I had just recently broken up with my boyfriend (in what turned out to be a temporary blip in our relationship) and was really hoping that we might still get back together.

So, it was fair to say I was cautiously dipping my toe back into the dating scene in the hopes that it might a) make him jealous b) I would stop obsessing over him enough to c) move on or d) actually meet someone else.

It really was going to take a gargantuan effort from a new guy to actually make me want to go on a date with them. So far the ‘Hi, how are you?’ opener was not cutting the mustard.

I looked at his pics again. One of him playing rugby, rippled thigh muscles covered in mud. One of him with a small gorgeous looking child which came with a ‘this is my godson’ caption, another of him in a suit with sunglasses, it looked like he was at the races or maybe a wedding, either way he was ticking a lot of boxes so I decided to reply.

‘Hey, I’m good thanks, so you’re into rugby I see, will you be watching the match next weekend?’ I asked, referring to an upcoming Six Nations fixture.

“Ah, I’m more of a union than league man, to be honest, but no doubt a mate of mine will drag me along to some pub to watch it. So a girl who’s into rugby, that’s intriguing tell me more about yourself Miss Ariana.”

And so it went; a back and forth of the boring fundamentals required when ‘getting to know someone’ via an app.

Turns out he was a recruitment consultant, 33 from Maida Vale. His mum was from Ghana and his dad was British, he had a brother and one nephew (the featured godson) and had been single for nine months.

It was after a couple of nights of “hey you, how was your day?” style chat before he eventually asked me out for a date.

My flatmate had just given me a lecture on needing to get back out there so I ruefully accepted. He lived near me and had chosen a bar not too far from my house as the venue so I figured if it was awful at least I wouldn’t have had to venture to far.

The Date

It was a Thursday night. A great 'first date' night day of the week. If it’s awful, you can cite a busy Friday work day as your reason for leaving early, and if it’s great you only have one more day of work to battle through on a hangover.

He had chosen a bar that was part of a chain of pubs in north London, the type of place that served scotch eggs on wooden boards with little pots of mustard, and had a wine list written in chalk above the bar.

When I walked in he was already seated on a high stool at the bar; he looked relaxed and handsome and I was instantly attracted to him, he smiled and stood to kiss me…

Oh…

Damn. He wasn’t much taller than me, maybe 5’8/5’9, but his piercing green eyes made up for this small flaw. (excuse the pun).

“Nice to meet you” he said kissing me on both cheeks “What would you like to drink?”

“Oh thanks, um, a glass of wine would be great” I said placing myself gently on the stool beside him.

“What colour?” he said “Red, White, Rose?"

“Oh I don’t discriminate against colour,” I said

HOLY SH*T.

My first date with a black guy and my opening line is about my lack of discrimination. I can honestly say I have ordered thousands of glasses of wine and have never said this before. WTF.

He looks at me quizzically as my face obviously displays my desire for the ground to open up and swallow me.

“Um, I like all the colours of the wine rainbow” I add hastily

“Sooo… white?” he offers

Jesus Christ, Ariana, what the f*ck is wrong with you, order a bloody drink.

“Yep perfect, sorry, thanks, eh Pinot Grigio if they have it,” I replied.  Ohh NOW, you’re being specific. Jesus.

He orders the bloody drinks and I take this as an opportunity to drink him in.

He’s wearing dark jeans, a navy polo shirt, his arms are muscly and a beautiful caramel colour, his hair is tightly cut and his face is clean shaven. Best of all, he is wearing a fab pair of brown leather shoes.

I like a man who has good taste in shoes. It means they dress well from the bottom up.

“So” he says, turning to hand me my Godforsaken glass of racist-free wine. ”You look lovely”

“Aw thanks, as do you” I say sipping my drink.

We ended up having a fantastically wonderful first date. After three drinks in the bar in which we had an easy and friendly getting-to-know-you chat he asked if I was hungry.

This is the point in a date when you know it’s going well if you find yourself saying yes. So I said “I am actually, I’m starving, do you want to go get some food?”

We ambled to a nearby sushi restaurant and he passed the chopstick test with flying colours. After lots of flirting over rice and sake he asked me if I played pool. Bingo!

“I do, indeed” I said

“Great” he said “The bar next door has a table, let's have a game and one for the road.”

He beat me in the first game. (Never emasculate them too early on.)

Of course I came back for a win in the second.

I suggested a third, but it was 1am and we were both rather tipsy.

So, instead he smoothly wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me in for a kiss and said “We’ll have to play the decider on our second date.”

The Second Date

He locked in the second date for that Saturday –  just two days after our first.

He messaged me all the next day saying how much he had enjoyed himself and how excited he was to see me again. He said he wanted to surprise me with the second date which I happily agreed to.

He asked me to meet him in Liverpool Street Station, a place I hadn’t been to since I had broken up with my ex who worked in the area.

When we were together we had regularly run drunkenly through the station trying to catch the last train home. I was worried I’d bump into him and scanned the crowds nervously as I made my way to the information desk in the middle of the concourse where we had arranged to meet.

Again he was there waiting for me. He looked ever so slightly nervous, but I flashed him a big smile and he beamed back.

“Sooooo” he said kissing me on the lips. “You look fab”

“Thanks so much, you are quite the charmer” I said, kissing him back.

“Right, I hope you don’t mind, but we need to get a train to get to where I am taking you.”

I felt momentarily nervous. I didn’t know this guy from Adam, he could have been taking me anywhere. I think he sensed what I was thinking cause he quickly added: “It’s just two stops to Bethnal Green on the overground. I’ve booked us a table at Bistrotheque.”

RESULT! I was dying to go to this place. Newly opened up and super trendy, I had heard rave reviews about this place so I was visibly delighted.

“You know it?” he asked

“Well I’ve heard of it, but never been. Excellent choice, dude, I’ve been wanting to go here ever since it opened up.”

“Ah great, I recruited a lot of the staff for this place, including the head chef, so I managed to pull a few favours to get us a table.”

This guy clearly liked me, and I was flattered.

I quickly forgot about my ex as I sauntered to the platform with my arm linking his.

When we got to the restaurant he was greeted like an old friend by the maitre d’ who took my coat and showed us to our table.

The place was packed and buzzing with London cool. On our way, past the open kitchen, the chef leaned over the passe to shake hands with my date, nodding at me with a smile.

At our table was a bottle of champagne cooling in a bucket.

'I could get used to this', I thought as the sommelier popped the cork and poured the golden liquid into my crystal flute.

“Cheers,” he said clinking my glass “I hope you don’t mind all this, I just wanted to treat you tonight.”

“Mind? Ha not at all, this is fabulous, I’m throughly enjoying myself,” I assured him.

He ordered half a dozen oysters for us and we devoured perfectly cooked steaks for our mains. The chef sending over several amuse bouches between courses.

He was charming and funny and we had a whale of a time chatting about everything and anything.

He had been to boarding school as a child, sent from Ghana to England on his own which clearly had an impact on him as his eyes glazed over with sadness and his demeanour stiffened so I changed the subject, blabbering away about how I had moved around a lot as a child and loved the adventure of it all.

I told him about my family and my friends back home in Ireland and we chatted amiably about work and different things we’d read or seen that week.

He talked about his exes and I told him briefly about mine and before we knew it our martini espressos were empty and he called for the bill, paying in full and leaving a healthy tip.

The expression 'too good to be true' sprung to mind, but I quickly chastised my negative thinking and hoped that I had found myself a good’un here.

“Right so, I figured after this we would want to have some fun and also play that deciding game of pool so I booked us a lane at All Star Lanes.”

This was a hipster bowling alley in Shoreditch which was nigh on impossible to book on a Saturday night. This guy was really pulling out all the stops and I was throughly impressed.

Delighted with life, we hopped in a taxi and made our way through east London, weaving in and out of traffic as the lights of London’s skyscrapers twinkled down on our heads gently kissing in the back of the black cab.

At the bowling alley, I was mortified to have to change out of my perfectly coordinated heals and into gross bowling shoes, but he thought it was hilarious and peppered me with compliments until I didn’t care about my Sideshow Bob-esque appearance.

He beat me at bowling, which to be fair isn’t a hard thing to do, and the deciding pool game went down to a black ball game which he eventually sunk in the top corner pocket.

I gave him congratulatory kisses and we had two more drinks in the bar before we shared a taxi home.

He was the perfect gent, escorting me to my door kissing me good night and promising he’d be in touch the next day.

Of course, I contemplated inviting him in but I wasn’t quite ready to take that step, my heart was fragile and as much as I was starting to like this guy I was being cautious and wanted to take things slow.

To be continued…….

If you want to learn more about Ariana's dating exploits, be sure to keep up to date on Swipe Right's Facebook page.

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This one was ridiculously good looking, and I mean that in a Zoolander kinda way, as almost all of his pics were 'blue steels' but sadly non-ironically.

But to be fair to him he was hot. He was tanned with a David Beckham’esque hair cut and piercing blue eyes.

One of his pics was him at a wedding in a gorgeous expensive looking crisp white shirt, collar undone, dickie bow hanging loosely either side, mouth open…

OK done… swipe right! Thank the Lord it’s a match.

The Chat

It was about 11pm on a Sunday night. I often go on a Tinder spree at this time if I’ve had a particularly boring weekend so my quest to find my OTL gets ramped up.

I messaged him.

“I bet I can guess what you do for a living in three guesses."

Now, I know this may sound like a pretty great Tinder opening line to get a guy to engage in a conversation, and that maybe this was a line I’d used before but in fact it wasn’t!

I actually genuinely just thought from looking at his pics that I could guess what he did.

“Well that sounds like a fun challenge,” he replied straightaway. “I tell you what, if you guess correctly I buy you drinks all night. If you guess incorrectly, then the evenings on you.”

“Challenge accepted,” I replied with a winky face. “OK, so guess number one, you dress well, you’re nicely tanned, you have a certain suaveness about you, I reckon you work in Recruitment / Sales?”

“Incorrect,” he replied

“Damn. Hmmm ok Creative Director?”

“Nope, wrong again, these free drinks are looking good to me,” he replied cheekily.

Damn! Ok come on Ari,you’ve got this. I looked at his pics again, studied every nuance and suddenly it hit me!

“I know, I know! You work in banking” I exclaimed.

“Yes! I didn’t think you’d guess correctly!” he replied, clearly impressed

“OK ,then you smart alec, when you free for me to fulfil my end of the bargain?”

And just like that I had a date! That was pretty frickin easy!

The Date

He picked the bar, the date and the time!

Finally; a man who can take control and make a friggin decision!

This particular date was one of my many Tinder dates I had when living in London, so the destination was a quaint little wine bar in Kings Cross or so the website informed me when I looked it up.

I rarely went out in Kings Cross despite it being just two stops on the Tube from where I lived, but I was grateful for the change of scenery and the chance to experience another side of London nightlife.

We had been chatting briefly over WhatsApp in the three days between my opening guessing game and our date night, but in all honesty I knew very little about this guy.

Sometimes this is the best way to play the Tinder game; just lock in a date straight away without spending weeks chatting back and forth which can often heighten your expectations before being spectacularly let down when you meet the real life person.

This was just simple. I’d get to know him on the date like dating should be before apps took over and ruined everything!

Unfortunately, the quaint little wine bar was so quaint it was impossible to find!

I obediently followed the blue flashing dot on my iPhone to a dead end, turned around and asked several passersby if they knew where this said bar was (quite possibly one of the most frustrating experiences on earth, having to ask people in London for directions) needless to say my pleas for help left me none the wiser and I was forced to call him.

“Hello?” he said in an incredibly sexy north London accent

“Oh hi um, it’s me Ariana, sorry but I’m a bit lost and can’t find the bar.”

“No worries, I’m here now actually so I’ll just drop you a pin and you should find it easily then.”

“Super, thanks a mil, see you soon.”

“Red wine ok?” He asked before I hung up.

“Red wine would be perfect."

So far, this guy was my kinda guy.

Two seconds later and my phone pinged with a location pin and five minutes later I was arriving into a dim candlelit wine bar with leather couches and several cool Londoners dappled around the room sipping out of over sized wine glasses.

A quick glance around the room and there was my date.

I gulped.

Shit, this guy was hot. Like, intimidatingly so.

He was sitting down, one arm up on the back of the couch, legs spread in comfortable and confident manner.

He was wearing a round necked navy cashmere jumper, dark blue jeans and fabulous brown leather brogues.

He looked at me and smiled and my heart skipped a beat. His teeth were white and perfectly straight, he looked like something you’d see from a catalogue advertising yachts for sale.

I selfconciously swept my hair over to one shoulder and headed over to him with a smile.

“Hey, God, sorry I was totally lost there,” I said as he stood to greet me.

“No worries, at all, nice to meet you, ” he said placing his hand on my arm and double kissing  me on each cheek.

I sat down next to him. Now it was my turn to be nervous.

He picked up the bottle of wine and went to pour it into my ready and waiting empty glass, but before he did he cocked his head and asked.

“It’s a Marlborough Pinot Noir, that ok for you?”

Absof*ckinlutely I thought, while I just nodded at him.

“So Ariana” he said handing me the glass “How long you been on Tinder?”

Boom. That was it.

One of the worst opening question you can be asked on a Tinder date as I’ve come to the conclusion that when I guy asks you that straight off the bat he is looking for one thing and one thing only and that’s no strings attached sex.

Look, don’t get me wrong. I’m no prude and there is nothing wrong with a bit of fun here and there but when you are on a quest to find your OTL and you're putting yourself out there to go on these endless dates, knowing that a guy is only out for one thing straight off the bat is a bit disconcerting.

You’re suddenly playing a very different game. If, indeed, you even want to play the game at all, but if you do, you are moving from the Charm Offensive, to the Art of Seduction and sometimes that switch doesn’t come easy.

But looking at this guy I wasn’t putting away the key to my chastity belt just yet, I’d see where the night would take us, so I sipped my wine and said, “Oh, only a couple of months, how about you?”

“Bout two months now.”

“Oh right ok, so you’re only recently single I take it.”

“That’s right, yeah, just came out of a five year relationship.”

“Wow so you must be like a kid in a candy store now with Tinder eh?”

He laughed at this while nodding his head “Oh yeah Tinder is AWESOME” he said eyeing me appreciatively.

I was wearing a v necked black and white dress, black tights and high boots, with red lipstick and a thickly black lined eyes. I wasn’t looking too shabby, but I still felt like Attilla the hun next to him.

He reached for his wine glass and I noticed his hands were manicured. Perfectly buffed cuticles glowed within the setting of his beautifully tanned hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotta say discovering Tinder after being in a relationship for five years has been quite the revelation,” he smiled and took a sexy sip of his vino.

“I’d say you’re having fun alright” I agreed knowingly.

“Have you had any horror dates so far?” I asked.

“One or two, one or two” he said nodding

“Actually my very first one was a bit of a nightmare” he added in his posh London droll.

“Oh yeah, pray tell” I said getting comfortable.

“Well, so I matched with this girl, who was f*cking hot, like a model, like she was a ten for sure” he said getting excited.

Cue another selfconscious sweep of my hair to one side and straightening of my posture. I am probably a 4 and a half at best, so knowing I was being compared to a 10 was unnerving.

“Oh yeah, good for you” I said with a nod and a wink

“Well yeah, but, well wait till you hear,” he said raising his hand and smiling at me

“So we arrange to meet down on Southbank, at about 4pm. It was a gorgeous sunny day and I rock up in my shades and I see this chick sitting there and she is super hot, like absolutely gorgeous, a model for sure”

OK dude, I get it she was hot.

“So I sit down and we order a bottle of wine and we get chatting and I mean she was a nice enough girl, but just not a lot of substance to her, but like she was smokin, so anyway we’re chatting and drinking and just shooting the breeze and we order another bottle of wine and everything’s going great, and I’m thinking, I’m quids in here. This girl is amazing, Tinder is unbelievable, I’m feeling good about being single and then she goes…”Hey so guess what I tried last week for the first time” and I said “Oooh I dunno, tell me” thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts and then she goes “Crack”.

"Pah!" I guffawed at that point and sat up in my seat.

“Whaaatt?” I said with dramatic affect. “I assume she didn’t mean Irish craic.”

“No no, not at all, this girl was from Kent, and she meant crack as in the drug”

Ha!

“So I said, what do you mean like crack the drug? and she said “Yeah, yeah, I smoked it, it was great, have you ever tried it?” and I said 'Erm no no, can’t say that I have no.”

I interrupted him here and said: “So like have you ever tried any drugs?”

“Oh yeah like I mean I’ve dabbled here and there when I was younger but nothing major, I work out six days a week” he said rubbing his belly.

Actually, belly is probably the wrong word, he was toned and fit as f*ck this chap.

“So, I don’t really like to mess with my body too much, but this hot chick just being so blase and open about the fact she had done crack was baffling to me," he said.

“So what happened?” I asked

“Well it gets worse. So I said ‘oh um,  but that’s cool, good for you, so you like to party then do you” and she said “hell yeah I love to party, hey what do you say we get a bag of coke and go back to yours?”

"So I look at this girl and I take in the situation and I hesitate for like a second before saying “Hell yeah, lets do it”. So I call for the bill and this chick takes out her phone and calls her dealer and I settle the bill and next thing I know we are standing outside Waterloo station waiting for her dealer to come," he continues.

"She turns to me and says “I ordered two grams, that cool with you?” and I’m just getting swept up in the situation so I’m like, “yeah sure great”, to be honest if this chick said she had ordered  two elephants dressed in tutu’s I would have just gone along with it."

"But then she says 'So I just need to go to the ATM'. So I go with her and I’m waiting for her and the ATM starts to beep and she turns to me all sheepishly and says, “oooh insufficient funds, that’s um embarrassing, don’t suppose you can spot us, for now?”

"She sidles up to me like a cat and plants a kiss on my cheek so I’m still thinking ok sure, “how much is it?” and she goes “£300”.

"Now I’m no mug and I know that coke does not cost that much so I said “How much?” and she said, “oh it’s really good stuff, pure cut."

"Just then her phone rang, and she said “oh it’s ‘im”. She answered and walked away from me to talk to him."

"So I’m standing there and I’m looking at her, and looking at the entrance to Waterloo and the escalators down to the concourse and I’m thinking, 'something isn’t right here, I’m gonna get done over here I can just feel it.'"

"So, she’s on the phone and she’s about 15 feet away with her back to me talking frantically to this guy and I’m looking at her and looking at the escalators, and then looking at her and looking at the escalators and then I just think, fuck it, so I legged it and left her.”

Hahahahahahahaha.

“Hahahahahahah” I laugh “Oh my god I can’t believe you just left her”

“Oh I bet the ‘dealer’ was probably her pimp or something. Looking back now the whole situation was just dodgy as fuck.”

“Haha, oh God that’s hilarious though, talk about an intro into app dating.”

“I know, it’s been fun though, I’ve been on quite a few dates since then and they’ve all been fun.”

Yep, this guy was having his cake and eating it.

“So how about you?” he asked while signalling to the waitress. “Any horror stories?”

As readers of this blog, you will know that I can regale people with a dating story or two so I began to tell him about ‘The Visa Hunter’.

As I was telling the story he ordered us another bottle of wine and some olives to nibble on.

I was enjoying myself. This guy was fun, but I could tell that he was just gonna be a one time thing.

He seemed like he was super materialistic and narcissistic, a stereotypical London pretty boy banker, and indeed he was.

It later transpired, as we went through our second bottle of wine, that he lived in a duplex apartment in London Bridge, he drove a Porsche and went skiing every year in Chamoinx.

Our conversation moves on and we get talking about our religious beliefs. I think it was because of my Irish’isms, throwing the words God and Jesus around as sentence fillers.

“So you a good Catholic Irish girl then?” he asked mischievously

“Ha well I wouldn’t go that far” I said. “I’m Catholic by birth defect not really religious at all, but I would be quite spiritual” making an effort to look deeply into his sea blue eyes.

“Oh yeah? That’s cool, that’s cool, yeah me too, me too, I’ve recently become quite spiritual myself,” he said

“Oh really, how so?” This was interesting, most men would baulk at the idea of spirituality!

He suddenly looked all serious and solemn.

“Well honestly I read this book recently that just changed my life! It was by the amazing Brazilian authour Paulo…..”

“Cohelo” I said, finishing his sentence for him

“YEAH! Paulo Cohelo, you’ve heard of him?”

Um yeah course I have. Me and 40 million other people worldwide who’ve read his canon fodder “books”.

“Um yeah, I’ve read a few of his books,” I replied

His eyes grew wide as if I’d just said something super impressive to him.

“Wow that’s incredible, well basically oI read this unbelievable book he wrote about this Shepherd called Santiago”

Oh god is this guy for real, is he about to tell me that The Alchemist changed his life.

“It is called The Alchemist,” he said in a sacred tone

“Um yeah I’ve read it”

“YOU’VE READ IT!” he exclaimed.

Er, yes, me and 20 million other people. The way this guy is talking about this book you’d swear he found it by the side of the road while on a pilgrimage to Mecca.

“Isn’t it just amazing? It made me want to quit my job and just go tending sheep in the foothills of Chile” he said whimsically

“Haha, oh don’t do that mate, your Porsche isn’t gonna drive itself,” I said ironically

Gosh I’m sorry, but anyone who thinks The Alchemist is the peak of literary goodness is just a little bit lost inside.

I decided this would be a good time to go for a smoke and he said he would join me.

While outside I could see him better. And he was just divine. While I smoked, he pretended to inhale on the cigarette I had given him.

“I’m not a big fan of smoking” he said “But actually when I was in Morocco last month I ordered a fab porcelain hashish pipe and a tonne of flavoured tobacco. It just got delivered yesterday actually”

“Oh amazing I love Hashisha” I said tipsyly.

“Oh yeah? Well, hey look, I don’t live too far from here in a cab, do you fancy coming back and helping me build it and we can smoke some apple or vanilla flavoured tobacco out on my roof? I have an amazing view over London.”

Now look, I know this guy wasn’t going to be my OTL, but smoking hashisha fresh from Morocco with an absolute ridebag on a London rooftop are not things I get the chance to do that often so ….

I adjusted my hailo on my head, kissed him on the cheek and went home by myself, got into my pyjamas, made myself a cup of cocoa, said my prayers and went to sleep.

If you want to learn more about Ariana's dating exploits, be sure to keep up to date on Swipe Right's Facebook page

Trending

Sure look, dating is an absolute minefield.

Let's be honest here, there are few among us who don't have at least one 'First Date' horror story; a tale of such woe our friends have forced us time and time again to regale them with it.

Nevermind that the mere memory of the encounter leaves us clammy-handed and vaguely distressed, other people's dating stories are fair game.

They're awkward, they're agonising, and they're also hugely entertaining… as long as you didn't have to endure them.

And that, ladies,  is why we'll be featuring weekly instalments from Swipe Right – a blog about the ups and downs of dating in Dublin. 

This week, our gal comes face to face with your classic Hipster.

Having lived in London for four years I know a Hipster when I see one.

My ex lived in Shoreditch, the Hipster Capital of the World, ensuring my eye is finetuned to the many variables of hipsterdom.

So, frankly I should have spotted this one a mile off, but alas my desire to find my OTL (One True Love) oft makes me blind to the potential hipster lurking behind the bearded avatar of my Tinder match.

Now look, Hipsters are all well and good. But they just aren’t for me.

Partly because I am as far removed from a Hipster as someone can be, but mostly because their smug condescension makes praising anything of merit a chore for someone like me who tries to be an eternal optimist.

The Match

This one was called Louis. He had a sexy beard and a mop of curly hair.

His eyes were dark and moody and he had a few sexy laughter lines making his profile age of 40 seem like an accurate depiction.

The second pic was of him lying nonchalantly in a field, at a festival of some kind, the third was a black and white one of him blowing smoke at the camera, I’d seen enough to swipe right.

It’s a match.

The Chat

He messaged me first.

“So what makes you so bloody wonderful then?" Not as rude as it might seem.

The line I’ve written in the space where you are supposed to synopsise yourself I wrote “I’m bloody wonderful”.

A) Cause I couldn’t be arsed writing anything more. B) Cause confidence is key and C) Cause I bloody well am.

Anyway he’s not the first person to open with this question so I go with my standard reply.

“Oh ye know….everything.” I type.

I swear I’m not a cocky cow, but I like to push men's boundaries with some upfront confidence just to see if they can take it.

“We can be wonderful together so,” came his reply.

Nice.

“Ah that remains to be seen, tell me about yourself, Louis. What do you do?”

“I work as an IT consultant, boring work, not at all interesting," he replied.

Okayyyy, not giving me much to go on and no question back. Hmmm.

“Ah well, pays the bills eh, so where you living?” I ask.

“HX”.

Now I know I’ve been out of Dublin a few years but I’ve never heard of anywhere called HX.  

“HX..?? Where’s that?”

“Harolds Cross

Oh, for gods sake.

“Oh right, I used to actually live there myself, nice spot, are you from Dublin?”

“Born and bred, from Ballsbridge.”

Hmmm this guy is posh I muster. An actual D4 head now living in D6. The Hipster bells were starting to chime. Still no questions back. He’s feigning disinterest. Another classic hipster characteristic.

“Ah I used to work in Ballsbridge,” I say. I’m trying my best.

“So, you having much luck on here?” he asks

“Ah, a few dates here and there, nothing major. You?”

“Met my fair share of weirdos,” he charmingly retorts.

“Ah well, I promise I’m not a weirdo.”

“Oh yeah, prove it, let's meet up for a drink,” he goes, in for the kill.

I study his pictures again before replying. He’s definitely hot. Defo worth the drink I reckon even if I am getting the hipster vibes.

“OK cool, here’s my number," I reply.

He messages me on WhatsApp. But his name comes up as Jay, not Louis. Hmmm, not a good sign having a duplicitous identity.

Married men are rampant on Tinder so a differing IRL name is disconcerting.

“Hey it’s me,” he says “How are you fixed for Thursday?

“Oh, I thought your name was Louis….it’s saying Jay. And darn, no sorry, Thursday is out for me I have a work thing, could do Friday though?”

“Hmmm going big. Friday it is then.”

Going big? What does he mean?

“Going big?” I echo.

“OK great, Friday it is, where do you want to meet?”

“And is it Jay or Louis?”

“James,” he responds.

Clearly he feels no further explanation is required.

“Can we decide on a venue tomorrow my brain is squishy," I text.

"Yep sure, no worries, sleep well.”

He messages me three days later, the night before the date.

“Ok where to meet, hmm D6/D8?” he types.

I guess they are my only options

“Oh, hi," I reply. “Well, I live and work in D8 so somewhere there, I guess.”

He doesn’t reply. I’m starting to think this guy is not going to be worth the effort.

He messages me the next morning at 7.36am just as I’m drying my hair while getting ready for work.

“I don’t really know any D8 pubs – why don’t we make a massive break in tradition and let you, the lovely lady, decide. Good Morning btw. Looking forward to meeting you.”

Crap, I was worried he’d say that

“Erm… I’ve just moved back from London so I’ve no idea where the cool kids hang these days ! Um k I’ll have a think and let you know later. Good morning btw.”

Seriously it’s not even 8am how am I supposed to think of a date venue at this time in the morning, I haven’t even had coffee yet.

“I know a place as a reserve option,” he types.

Is this guy for real?

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” I reply.

“Hahaha no… It’s called ‘a reserve option’ for a reason." 

This guy is really starting to annoy me now. I’m this close to calling it off but I’ve already applied my tan and its just a waste otherwise.

Plus I’ve had a stressful week in work and I’m living for a G&T as soon as I get to this bar… where ever the hell it might be.

I take the bull by the horns.

“Right so…. Not liking the whole ‘man who can’t make a decision’ aspect of this date so far. How about the Camden Exchange on Camden street? Say 6.30pm," I text.

“Ouch, if I were you I would make the most of your autonomy while you can. See you at 6:30. My reserve was MVP btw.”

Ding a ling a ling a ling. The HIPSTER bell is is full swing!

This guy is a douche. I can already tell.

The Date

At 6.25pm I get a message from him.

“I’m here. Out the back btw. What would you like to drink? Or will I make that decision for you?" he texts.

This guy is already rubbing me up the wrong way and I haven’t even got out of the taxi yet.

I walk out to the smoking area and he’s sitting on a high stool in front of a large barrel doubling as a table.

He’s wearing black skinny jeans, with black pointy boots, a black leather jacket over a crinkled black t-shirt and a paisley scarf around his neck.

Of course he has a craft beer half poured into a glass and he’s rolling a cigarette. This guy is 40?

He sees me and half stands while finishing his rollie.

“Hey, hey how you doing?” he says in a thick D4 accent

“Hi, how are ya?” I say as he leans in and double kisses my cheeks.

“What can I get you?” he says with a kind of wry smile that suggests he knows I’m going to be trouble.

“Ahhh, I’ll have a G&T please," I reply.

He summons a passing waitress and orders my drink and another one of the obscure beers he’s drinking – no doubt called Moonlit Wolf Howl or something like that.

“So so, you good yah” he says barely making eye contact as he stuffs his fingers into his too tight jean pocket to retrieve a zippo. “Getting up to much this weekend?”

“Um well I’m going down to Dunmore East for the night tomorrow, my mate has a house down there and it’s one of my favourite places in Ireland,” I say smoothing down my flowery dress.

It’s short’ish and figure hugging, not hipster at all but I look nice in it… c’ept so far he’s not really looking at me so I start to feel a bit self conscious.

Thankfully, my drink arrives.

“Oh Dunmore, nice spot, nice spot” he says blowing smoke out his nostrils.

“I used to go there every year for the Blue Grass festival….. before it became SHITE” he said with a knowing smile as if this was something I should agree with him on.

“Oh right, never been to the festival myself” I say. “So how was work today, glad the week is over?”

He launches into a 20 minute rant about his job. About how all his colleagues are idiots. The company is shite, his team are stupid, how he’s done this jobs for years and how no one seems to get the system the way he does.

He works as some kind of consultant. Something to do with data protection and blah blah blah.

To be honest, I lost interest seven minutes in.

A friend of mine does very similar work and I actually know a bit about it so when I tried to contribute and offer my two pence worth he started talking over me using technical terms as if he was trying to prove that actually I knew nothing about what he was talking about so I just kind of zoned out after that and savoured my gin.

I interrupted him to order another one which thankfully broke his rant. I took out my packet of cigarettes and lit one up.

“Oh you smoke them, do you? Rollies are so much nicer in my opinion” he smirks.

“Ah I like these” I’m starting to be a bit feisty now. I packed up my charm and stuffed it into my handbag about 10 minutes ago.

I think he can tell so he makes an attempt at steering the conversation back towards me.

“So how you finding life back in Dublin after London?” he says.

“I love it actually, it’s so much nicer, less stressful. I love having a car again and the freedom that brings, not having to squeeze onto a tube everyday.”

“Oh you drive a car, do you?” he kind of spits this at me like an accusation.

I nod, waiting.

“Ugh I hate cars. I have a bike.”

“Like, a motorbike?” I ask.

He looks at me with disdain.

“No, a push bike”

“Oh, okay.”

Riggghhhttt. The most annoying people on the road. A hipster on a bike.

“I mean, look you don’t need a car in Dublin. I bet me on my bike, and you in your car, I could get anywhere in Dublin faster than you," he wagered.

Suddenly, this has become a competition.

“Yeah maybe, I guess, although to be fair I’m quite a nippy driver, I like weaving in and out and finding the less busy roads” I say sipping on my drink.

“Yeah actually you strike me as one of those aggressive bitch drivers on the road.”

I half choked on my drink.

“Excuse me?” I said, eyes narrowing “Did you just call me a bitch”

“Aw well, don’t get me wrong but you know what I mean?”

“Um no I don’t actually” I stub my cigarette out.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night. On yer bike.”

I walk out and past the waitress as she comes with our second drink.

“He’s paying for them” I say to her with a wink.

As I walk out the door I feel elated. What a pr*ck.

But what an exit.

If you want to learn more about Ariana's dating exploits, be sure to keep up to date on Swipe Right's Facebook page.

Trending

Sure look, dating is an absolute minefield.

Let's be honest here, there are few among us who don't have at least one 'First Date' horror story; a tale of such woe our friends have forced us time and time again to regale them with it.

Nevermind that the mere memory of the encounter leaves us clammy-handed and vaguely distressed, other people's dating stories are fair game.

They're awkward, they're agonising, and they're also hugely entertaining… as long as you didn't have to endure them.

And that, ladies,  is why we'll be featuring weekly instalments from Swipe Right – a blog about the ups and downs of dating in Dublin. 

If there's a woeful date to be had, this gal has had it…

The Match

This guy looked cute: five fairly normal looking pictures of himself.

One with his GAA mates, one of him smiling into the camera showing off fabulous dimples.

OK, one of him in some kind of Thunderbirds costume not great, but hey at least I know he’s game for a laugh at Halloween.

I swipe right and it’s a match.

The Chat 

He messaged me about two hours later.

Howaye

Hmmm OK, not the best start.

Hey there, how you doin?” I reply. I know, I know, not exactly bantastic myself.

Good now, yeah, any craic wit yerself?"

Do I tell him I’m currently sitting on my bed in my pyjama bottoms and house hoodie (with a food stain down the front) about to stream an episode of Orange is the New Black?

Ah not too much craic to be fair, just chilling." Ugh God, I can’t be bothered to enter into a conversation now.

You’re looking well in your pictures anyway, nicest smile I’ve seen in a long time.

Ahh, that’s nice. Hmmm ok maybe OITNB can wait a minute.

Not too bad yourself, I love your dimples, where you from?

Limerick but living up in Dublin….. you?”

Ah cool, I’m from Dublin, I’ve never been on a date with a guy from Limerick before.

Ah we’re the best, we’ll have to rectify that soon so, fancy a drink this week?

Shite, this is moving pretty fast but I’m actually dying to know what Piper and co. have been up to, so maybe if I agree now I can chat to him more tomorrow.

Yeah, sure why not?

Great. How are ye fixed tomorrow?

Shite. It’s actually the only day I’m free this week though! My inner monologue kicks in….Ah go on, best way to get over one man is to get under another just do it, what’s the worst the can happen?

Yeah cool, sounds good, here’s my number…..”

The Date 

He couldn’t decide on a venue, said he was only up in Dublin the last few months so he asked me to choose.

I picked the No Name Bar on Fade Street, mostly cause I like to sit outside and have a smoke.

I get there on time and there’s no sign of him. I get myself a drink and go outside and sit on a bench table. 10 minutes later and still no sign.

He messages saying he’s having trouble finding the place but will be there soon. Ugh God, he obviously doesn’t know anywhere in Dublin.

As I’m sitting there smoking and sipping on my Moijito I spot a hot guy on his own near the bar.

I start to fantasise that my date won’t show and this hot guy comes over to ask me for a light, we get chatting and 10 years later we’re married with kids and we tell everyone we met when I got stood up on a date and he came to my res…. My date showed up.

F*ck.

He looks nothing, and I mean nothing like his pictures.

He is legitimately about three stone heavier.

His dimples have been swallowed up by his chubby cheeks. His legs are what can only be described as trunk like inside his too tight, shiny, grey work suit. His hair is schleped down on his head. I shit you not he looks like a lost member of the D’unbelieveables.

“Howaye” he says bounding over to me. He plonks himself down on the bench right next to me so his legs are touching mine.

“Eh hi, nice to meet you” I stammer retreating backwards.

“Jaysis it was fierce hard to find this place” he says in the thickest Limerick accent I’ve ever heard. It reminds me of that Digicell ad from the 90s. ”Its me yer man from the bar”

“Sorry now for being late, I was hoping to be able to go and freshen myself up before I saw ya, I’m schweating like a pony, look at my back.”

To my sheer horror, he proceeded to shrug off his cheap and shiny jacket and turned to show me a huge sweat patch down his shirt back.

“Oh, ha ha, that’s ok” I mumble

“Would ya like a drink?”

I look at my half empty Moijito and say: ”No I’m grand, thanks. I have a full one here.”

He bounds off to the bar leaving me speechless and slightly panicked.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no shrinking violet and I wouldn’t be winning any Kate Moss lookalike competitions myself, but this lad is the definition of false advertising.

I contemplate doing a runner but I can’t do that to the poor fella. I hastily light up a cigerette and take a long sip on my drink.

I admonish myself for being such a Shallow Hal and tell myself he might be the nicest guy ever. He’s back, pint in hand, and there is sweat dripping down his forehead. Oh, God.

“So, do ya live near here then?” he says with a big huge smile. He’s trying his best, bless him.

“Um yep bout 15 minutes away, how bout you?”

“Ah do you know Mountjoy prison? I live not too far away from there," he replied.

“Oh right……” What do I say: that must be nice, living near all the criminals?

“Do you live on your own?” I attempt.

“Ah no, theres about eight of us, I share a room with a Polish lad, it’s cheap as chips, sure I go home nearly every weekend so I don’t want to be paying mad money for a swanky apartment ye know yerself, its grand like, gets a bit messy the odd time, there’s a few Romanian lads kipping on the couch at the minute, friends with one of the lads that lives there too.”

I’m literally agog at this point. But he keeps going. It’s a stream of consciousness that lasts for about 10 minutes.

“Do ye like tea, do ye? A lot of the lads drink coffee but I like tea myself, I bet you’re a Lyon’s girl, I’m a Barry’s man meself. That’s what I do, ye see. I work in coffee, distributor around all the Costa and coffee chains, it’s grand, I get me own van and all that, not a big fan of coffee though, it’s funny that isn’t it. I put on a bit o’weight ye see after I took the job. Had to give up the GAA cause I’m on the road a lot so I was missing the training, and I do like my food. I’m a sucker for a breakfast roll in the morning, I bet you like a breakfast roll, you strike me as a girl who enjoys her food. Gorgeous so ye are, I like your dress, you sure you don’t want another drink? What’s that fancy yoke ye have there, that one of them Mojo things is it?

“Um a Moijito”

“Will ya have another one”

“No, no I’m grand thanks” I say as I slurp the last remaining liquid from the glass.

He’s still talking though.

“Ah yeah like its grand at the moment with the lads, a bit crowded though in fairness,. Do ye know where I’d like to live, on a boat. Like Rosie and Jim, do ye remember Rosie and Jim? Lived on a Barge, I’d love to…”

“Eh I’m sorry I’m going to have to stop you there," I say.

 His face drops.

“I’m so sorry I just don’t think this is going to work out for me, I’m a bit tired so I’m just gonna go, so sorry” I say as I scramble to pick up my bag and my jacket.

“What are ye sorry for, it’s grand, ah no no no sure no need to be sorry, it was lovely to meet you…”

He’s still talking as I’m backing out the door.

I get a text an hour later. “Lovely to meet you, fancy doing it again sometime?”

Christ, this dating thing is going to be harder than I thought.

If you want to learn more abour Ariana's dating exploits, be sure to keep up to date on Swipe Right's Facebook page.

Trending

by

It seems that if you're a pilot or a physical therapist, you're in luck for finding love on Tinder.

The dating app carried out a survey and found that these professions are the most popular for men and women and receive the most right swipes.

For men, pilots take the top spot, followed by entrepreneurs, firefighters, doctors and TV/radio presenters.

And for women, the most popular swiped right job is a physical therapist, followed by interior designers, entrepreneurs, PR workers and teachers.

Students are also high on the list, coming in the tenth most swiped right for men and sixth for women.

The survey also found that more and more people are looking for long-term relationships on the app rather than just a casual fling.

"We just conducted a survey of over 300,000 of our users. What we found was over 80% of people on Tinder are there to find a long-term relationship," said chief executive of the app, Sean Rad. 

Time for a career change? We think so. 

Trending

As it turns out, all of the hours you spent trying to take the perfect selfie for your Tinder profile was actually quite pointless; you should have been fussing over your name.

The Grade voted and ranked the hottest names on social media dating apps – based on how many swipe rights they receive – and guys think some names are way sexier than others. 

Now we know you can't change your name (unless you want to catfish someone), but if you want to find out who has a bit of an edge over you, here are the women's names that came out on top:

1. Brianna

2. Erika

3. Lexi

4. Brooke

5. Vanessa

6. April

7. Natalie

8. Jenna

9. Molly

10. Katie

And what guys names came out on top, you ask?

1. Brett

2. Tyler

3. Corey

4. Andy

5. Noah

6. Shane

7. Jeffery

8. Rob

9. Frank

10. Jeff

Now, we don't know any Brett's or Jeffery's but we sure need to find some now! 

Trending
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