If you recall, a couple of blogs back we put SK on sabbatical, working as she was on a Tinder project that represented the long game, taking leave of absence to pursue something that had the potential to age like the most regal of blue cheeses.

Baby cheeses, she’s back to share the tale of how that undertaking went down.

Introducing TinderHero.

The Deets

  • Late 30s, ambitious, driven COO-type
  • One child, commendable level of harmony with the ex
  • Single, appears to be into SK

We went as far as to tag him as #sonotwhatyoufindonTinder

The Date

  • Turned up
  • Looked like his picture
  • Was as well-educated and mature as he appeared online
  • Didn’t make the moves


The Debrief

Details were discussed with the girl posse, we declared him SK-worthy. Unanimously.

The red flags

Despite the brownie points earned by actually turning up and being a full snap-match to his profile and pic, there were some early red flag comments sneaking into the online correspondence that we could only term keeper-cancer. Here’s the top 5:

“I’m a self-confessed commitment-phobe”

“I’m in Sydney two days a week, I have my daughter four other nights, leaves one spare”

“I tend to bail at the 7-year itch stage”

“We both have LOTS of limitations”

And the kicker:

“I don’t need a partner to make my life complete”

However SK has an innate ability to take on a challenge, whether it be silencing colleagues with a look, managing the office stairs after leg day at the gym or powering through a to-do list that would have most in a foetal position against a cubicle wall.

Undeterred by TinderHero’s advice that he was about to embark on a two week break in Bali, which brought unwanted visions of him ruining the suave COO persona with a Bintang singlet, she pursued festive and miscellaneous parent duties while being waitlisted.


He never came back

Upon a recount that rivalled a KPMG review of the Brownlow protocols, we all calculated that TinderHero had been due to breeze through customs at Tulla at least three days prior. Still his phone was responding with that dismissive fashion that Siri gets when you ask her too many times whether she’s married.


SK pursued other avenues, most notably her NY’s res that she’d move out of the suburban enclave that was kid-friendly but completely overrun by Lycra mums who jostled their SUVs near the school gate with all the finesse of the Luna park dodgems. She switched from Tinder to Realestate.com.au, ruthlessly shortlisting the bayside suburb that represented her pre-kiddie era. The swipe-right of real estate. A totally worthy pastime to be focused on while we all wondered if Tinderhero was pursuing the male version of EatPrayLove and was now helplessly part of some cult in Bali.

The Nuke

It started with a Friday afternoon rental inspection in the desired suburb. In a coincidence that rivals the odds of picking up that one.point.something.billion US powerball draw SK bumps into TinderHero in the foyer.



Not only does it appear that SK has happened on the same apartment complex, but it turns out she is inspecting TinderHero’s ACTUAL apartment. In the interests of brutal brevity, the rest is best summarised in bullets:

  • Real estate agent advises ‘hang on a sec, these two have a dog’. Goes about checking if said canine is in the house. THESE TWO. DOG.
  • No evidence of the general detritus that a 6yo child that sleeps over several nights a week would require
  • 75% of wardrobe space occupied by female clothes and a begrudgingly impressive shoe collection
  • One spare room. Any hope that this represented a platonic flatmate arrangement dashed by the fact its fitted out as fully functional home office, complete with a smattering of post-it’s in undeniably female cursive

SK snapped pics of the wardrobe, but stopped short of organising a follow up inspection for the sole purpose of inserting a hardcopy of all correspondence with TinderHero into every female shoe and jeans pocket  (purely in the interests of the sisterhood)



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