Ok, let’s have it out. Internet dating. Hinge. Bumble. Tinder. Ok Cupid.

My parents are big into it. They are so into it they even offered to pay for a premium dating account for me. My dad keeps telling me how great it is, “The Twinders (that’s what he calls it) is just like shopping in a supermarket, nowadays you don’t even have to go out to find a guy, you can just swipe away.” he tells me in his thick Scottish accent. I keep trying to tell them that the supermarket produce is a bit bogan for my liking. That I’ve tried…..and after spending hours on it I just end up getting depressed and lose hope in the male race with RSI in my thumb from swiping left.

I mean can’t romance still happen the old-fashioned way. Like maybe meeting in a book shop when you reach for the same book and low and behold it hits you in the face LOVE… Or maybe he’s your cousin’s cousins stepbrothers best friends housemate, and you get introduced at some random house party and then boom it hits you like a freight train. LOVE! Or maybe you collide into each other on a bike path, and then he offers to fix your bike and then BOOM smack in the face. LOVE… You know, something IRL. A good story to tell your great great great grandkids… I mean I do know a few online success stories, maybe the odds are better in cities like Melbourne, but here in rural QLD most of the profile pics are of guys wearing wife-beaters and stubbies with shotguns and dead pigs or wearing drug dealer sunglasses swilling bottles of bourbon out of there utes, or guys with their arms around there ex-girlfriend/ wife. One of them actually wrote “I’m looking for a gal to drink beer with, play video games and go camping in my 4wd ute with me” I almost wrote to them to tell them that there actually looking for a mate, not a girlfriend.

I’m not sure who gave them the memo, but that ain’t the way to win a good gal’s heart.

I was actually thinking of getting into the business of advising men on how to make a good looking dating profile, maybe even doing photoshoots for them, styling them… But I digress.

Every time someone falls in love via online dating, my mama reminds me over and over again. “You know, so and so did meet online, Sara.” My mama even offered to make a dating profile for me and told me she would be most happy to manage it, spend hours swiping for me, chat for me, and ultimately find a match for me. So kind. It must be a common situation because now some smart entrepreneurial guy is developing an app for exactly that, for Jewish mama’s to find matches for their beloved perfect children before they become spinsters. My mama has pre ordered it.

So yes my parents are madly trying to pair me up with a mate. Preferably a Jewish educated man that owns a few properties and maybe a business or 3….

Last year my mama and her best friend concocted a plan.

They were both lamenting that their children were so wonderful and so brilliant but were still so single and had the brilliant realisation to partner us up. After all, we both liked music, we liked plants, we were of similar age, and of course, we were both Jewish. Perfect.

My parents drove 2000km from QLD to Melbourne and invited the lucky bachelor to come drink some whisky with the men so they could interrogate my potential future husband. After my father and uncle gave him the seal of approval, the mothers organised a date for us. So old school, huh? Who needs Tinder when you have Jewish parents! The date went well I must admit, but no chemistry, so what do you do? Can you grow chemistry in a lab? Or grow to fall in love? Or do you succumb and let your parents pay for Tinder Gold and employ your clucky mama to swipe and swipe and swipe till she finds you the one.

Below is a little tune I wrote for my mama!

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