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Hitting the Tinder jackpot

28 Tinder dates in 10 weeks. That was my Australian summer in 2016. There was a juggler. A cardboard architect. A guy who lived in his car. A guy who was addicted to white chocolate. A guy who, ten minutes into the date, pulled out his phone and said “Oh, I forgot that I’m organizing a barbeque at my house tonight so I’m going to have to cut this short”. And a whole bunch of guys who made it through our dates without asking me a single question about myself.

Rewind a couple of months to a breakup with a guy who managed to shatter my heart, twice. I’d met him fifteen years ago and given him a whole lot of love before he told me I wasn’t good enough. I drew him back into my life in 2015. He told me he was a changed man and that I was his biggest regret. I gave him a lot of love. Again. And then he told me I was not enough. Again.
After my Tinder summer in Melbourne I moved to northern Laos. Where there were no guys. Like, literally not a single-single man in the entire country. Proof of t…

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