Down To Connect?

Connection on Tinder is as rare

As steak served by a Parisian chef.

I feel just as blue as I compare

Time I've spent swiping right and then left.

There’s Rick with the man bun

Who feels nourished by Gaia

And authentic connection

Over cacao and yoga.

Speaking truth and boundaries

He is eager to explore

And we trauma-bond with ease,

But...penetrate my aura?

We just met and, honestly?

You said, let’s go deep

But trust and intimacy

Take more than a week.

I draw this line in the sand.

The distance is palpable.

He stops reaching for my hand.

Have I caused this obstacle?

Now he wants something fluid

And it's clear after time

That boundaries are only

An issue when they’re mine...

...So I go back online.

How rare are photos of men,

Who do not hold big fish,

When I trawl through the tens

Of hundreds on Hinge?

Trent both sports

And has caught a great mullet.

Eyes a beer, only thoughts

Turned to skull it.

Interests: watching footy,

Fishing, laughs and movies,

Girls with a booty,

Sounds like a real smoothy!

I read the brief blurb,

Which is bland as it's short.

"Wants to meet...down to earth...

Easy going...watching sport."

Trent is a bloke who loves

Pure banality,

Stating the obvs.

But doesn't everyone want it easy?

Isn't saying, "I like watching movies",

Like saying, "I like air to breathe"?

Sure, no one wants a hard-to-please!

But, no more depth than booze and flannies?

Would you enjoy long chats

In front of an open fire?

Even a, “dogs or cats?”

What are your deepest desires?

Give me something, anything, Trent!

A hint of personality

Not how you work to pay the rent.

A little eccentricity?

Despite your cute smile

And eyes that shine

I just need more guile,

...So I go back online.

And consider how rare to read

Of men who enjoy poetry,

In forums like this at least.

But then one matches with me!

"I use he/his pronouns,"

Says nasal Kristian.

"I love Brené Brown!..

...BIG fan of strong women!"

"Amazing!" say I,

"You've found one here, see?"

Kris tells me why

He's not the patriarchy.

He's a pure-bred, self-confessed

Super-man, doom-fighting,

Lefty greenie activist,

Poetry-reciting

Star, who still lives with mum

To keep her company,

Though he's fifty-one,

His rent, her pocket money.

Maybe he is keeping her

From lonely later years,

Not passively leeching her

But daubing her tears?

As I ponder this,

K has begun to rant,

Mansplaining the works

of Immanuel Kant.

I try my very best

To keep the convo light,

But Kris begins to test

My brains on human rights,

Politics, philosophy,

All day and all night,

Nit-picking psychology,

Until I'm well and truly

Exhausted and drained

And feeling unruly

After being constrained.

"Kristian, you're so frustating,

You're so busy being right,

And vehemently debating,

You can't see what's in plain sight:

I'm a lover, not a fighter,

I want touch and sweetness,

Something way lighter,

And now we must complete this.

...so I go back online.

A rareity for sure is someone

Not only kind and clever,

Multidimensional, fun,

But strong to storm the weather.

And I end up dating,

Anti-vaxxers,

woman-hating,

Patience-taxers,

Incels, softbois,

Intellectuals,

Bogans, killjoys,

Sapiosexuals,

Avoidantly-

Attached guys,

Ethically-

Not-single:

Surprise!

And as each date passes

In which I've invested,

My ego can't last this

And needs to be rested.

I delete the app

And take a break

From the huge time-sap

And all the fake.

"How rare it is to be present

To smell the roses,

Look up from the pavement,

Use eyes, mouths, noses,

All the senses?"

I think, as I wait for the bus.

I went to bed early

So I wouldn't have to rush

To work today

And I left my phone

At home to stay

Focused on some alone.

But the bus doesn't come.

And I calmly enjoy

The clear sky, the sun,

The lack of noise.

"Ping" the distinct sound

Of a message arriving.

So I look around

My device must be hiding...

Ah, but I left it at home!

And now I really

Need to tell the time

I turn to see the

People in the line,

Awaiting this bloody bus.

I dearly want to ask

But not to make a fuss.

A man about my age-ish

Stands near to me

Turning the pages

Eyes down, just an ear to me.

He's reading a book

I've recently finished

And, as I look for a watch,

To tell me the minutes

That have passed

Since I've been standing,

He glances up faster

Than I'd been intending

To gaze at this stranger.

His hair curls of silver

And eyes are blue-grey.

He wears a cute blazer

In a casual way.

I've almost forgotten

Where I was going to go

"It'll almost be autumn

If this bus doesn't show."

I flash him a smile

He nods like, "I know!"

"That book is so good!

"Do you live around here?"

"Yeah, just down the road!"

He returns a grin,

And conversation flowed

As the bus pulled in

Just like that, a seed was sowed.

Who'd have thought that rare connection

Isn't easy-accessed through a screen?

That emotional depth, love and affection

Start eye-to-eye, witnessed, heard and seen.

...so I go back to life.