To the left, Handsome

On days when I am starved for the intimate companionship of a male stranger I go to our friend Tinder. I’m the type of gal who judges a man by his physical appearance. By that, I don’t mean attractiveness. I mean appearance.

Are you happy? Tick. Is it you always taking your own photos selfie-style to suggest you have no friends? X. Is there a dog in any of your pictures whose tail is wagging to show you won’t scream like a girl when my stupid one throws himself at you in exuberant greeting? Tick. That sort of thing.

One day my eyes landed on just the right sort of fellow. American I think. He was grinning all over his pictures and jumping into pools into others. Tick. So I went to his whatchamacallit where he tells us what he’s all about. I first smiled in happiness but by the time I was done reading, I’d swiped left without blinking.

There was nothing wrong with him. He just knew how to sieve out potential time wasters and man, he sieved me out with this profile:

I’m a globetrotter…

That’s how he started. Who doesn’t love a globetrotter? I mean, that’s why he’s in Uganda innit’?

I’ve been all over the world…

You see? Confirmation of being a globetrotter

I have a particular fondness for Europe…

Well, this is where he lost me really. I can’t afford Europe without a glucose guardian a.k.a Sugar Daddy.

I’m looking for someone Cosmopolitan…

And here it dawned on me that I may be illiterate. For the life of me I didn’t know what Cosmopolitan really meant. Something to do with Sex and the City? I couldn’t confirm I was Cosmopolitan.

I want someone willing to travel with me…

Sir, I’m African. It will take me years to be allowed into Europe for any summer

And a lady who’s interested in adventures

I suspected he and I had different ideas of what ‘adventure’ entails. It’s been my experience that while I’m thinking of an opulent hotel next to a beach and massages a lift away, the white guy is thinking of trekking through undiscovered bushes and camping next to murderous hippos. You think I’m lying?


To the left, Ssebo!

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