(Photo Credit: Wikimedia Commons)
By Lee Saunders
Last Updated 7/5/2017 at 11:30 AM
Tel Aviv, Sheinkin: I am sure my dad would be surprised at dating today – he met my mum at a Valentine’s Day disco in Liverpool – asked if she wanted crisps. She did. They were married for 40 years. Maybe it was Bamba.
Today, have we gone completely nuts? The gay world, literally. If a shared love of crisps belongs to a bygone era, at least let technology be accurate. As a sexual navigation app, it fails. Often.
Here’s Juan Carlos, he is from Chihuahua, Mexico. Oh. Does the Number 63 Bus go there? Can I use my RavKav? Waze says no. Once, someone in Cairo messaged me because his GPS said I was around the corner. Maybe we were once ‘one’ in Canaan. But in 2017? Not so much.
As the technological retreat gathers pace, they are now setting up special wards at Ichilov Hospital for people getting carpal tunnel syndrome from swiping through Atraf at 20 profiles per minute. I should know…. I was just in outpatients. Swipe, scroll, drool, click, next. I could not help marvelling at the talking nipples, zooming in on their bathroom mirror to see if they have used Windolene (you can tell a lot about places and people from their bathrooms, they say). And then, the Sears catalogue of the obligatory selfie at the gym – the new photo booth of the 21st century. I tried. Called someone over to help me lift the 50kg bar bell…….. aaaaand that’s why I was really at Ichilov.
“Host?” has become the new hello; the winky emoticon as close to a technological marriage as possible. I am rather partial of the little embarrassed one with deformed jazz hands. Spellings go out the window. ‘Have u got plans?’ Yes: You, Me, Shopping, Oxford English Dictionary. If you know how to use a comma, marry me. Just tell me what crisps you want at the wedding.