I’m on Bumble! Welcome to the place where all the rejects gather to find love, trying to avoid or resolve their past relationship traumas and challenges. That’s probably why so many men make it clear that they don’t want DRAMA. 

Now, gentlemen, let me remind you that the best art, inventions or innovations are created following the unfolding of some kind of DRAMA; that the mortar that binds us to each other, despite and beyond all the differences that divide us, is the one we fashion when we face and overcome DRAMA… to – ge – ther. A life of purpose and meaning is dramatic by definition. Erase drama and you attract boredom, which is not a word I want in my vocabulary. 

I am prepared mentally. I have spent the last hour visualising the best yet planning for the worst and I am not disappointed!!! All my hopes are being crushed, as every profile in my feed turns out to be a caricature of what I fear the most. I am under no illusion that due to my age my pool is incredibly limited. I am in Bali, sandwiched between the wanna-be Schwarzeneggers of Canggu and the wanna-be Dalai Lamas of Ubud. I’m looking for the ham in the middle but since everyone has turned vegetarian, I am doomed! 

The first guy I come across is holding a pint of beer, a real mark of sophistication. Obviously, look at me… that’s not going to work. His only redeeming feature is that he smokes, which means that he will die much earlier than I will, and that gives me a tangible chance to inherit his money. Yippee! 

The second guy has one parrot perched on each of his shoulders. The third opted for a monkey. How exotic! Yes, I am not making this shit up, everyone. And then, I get all the cat or puppy lovers. I am French. I only love animals in two places: on my plate and in the wild, so it’s a firm NON for me. 

Then we have the guys, whose tummy circumference has increased in alignment with their age. Even I could not aspire to reach that kind of size if I fell pregnant. I am into climbing but when it comes to sex, I like to see what lurks on my horizon! 

Next comes the string of men who use fancy words or abbreviations that I need to google. One tells me that he is demi-sexual. Demi of what? Does he have half a willy or one out of two balls? 

I am about to give up… when I see the picture of a black man wearing snow goggles. Where I come from, you can count on the fingers of one hand the number of black men on the slopes. So, I think: “Whoah, what a daring guy!”. I read his profile and I FREEZE. It says: NO DRAMA. 

I should swipe left but I am writing a book about compassion, so I tell myself that this is a great opportunity for invaluable field research. I want to exist inside of love and outside of judgment. Let’s be honest, I am desperate. My finger is in a trance and I swipe right. 

Mistake!  We are at my favourite Italian, by the beach. I have just completed a one-week detox that included – not one – but 3 colonics, and I am gagging for a pizza. I ask him why he loves to ski. Any normal human being would tell me that it makes him feel free but non, non, non…. that would have been too good. The universe is out to get me! This man goes on the slopes because he loves getting drunk at the apres-ski. 

Now I have serious ground to worry BUT I am on a mission to connect! So, I ask him about the young girl I saw on his profile. She’s super cute. That’s his daughter. He’s separated but he drives 300 miles to see her every week. That’s commendable. My hopes are back up! 

I ask one simple question: “How does she make you feel?”
Well, I was in for a treat! He tells me that she frustrates him and that if she had not been born, he would be travelling the world, living the life of his dreams. 

Now, I have manners: I do not remind him that it is the private jet he has between his legs that aimed for the wrong destination and that it is his own emissions that should be the object of his frustrations. 

Instead, I ask: “What is the problem, exactly?” 

I am open-minded. He answers: “She looses concentration when she reads.” Interested, I ask him: “How old is she?” and I am so taken aback by his answer that the piece of pizza I am eating gets stuck in my throat. 

I can’t breathe. I start to make funny faces, I hit my chest with my hand. I look like a gorilla in the jungle.  He says, with no intention of moving: “Would you like a glass of water?” No, what I want is for you to take your ass off your chair to do the Heimlich Manoeuvre on me. But obviously I can’t talk. 

So, I run to the kitchen, hoping that a waiter will help me. A young Made looks at me and repeats exactly the same question. This time, she puts ‘ibu’ at the end. Thank you for your attention to detail but that’s not going to save me! 

By that time, I am thinking: “I can’t breathe but I cannot die here. The guy is an English Accountant – that’s depressing enough under normal circumstances. I want my death to be more exciting and I want to finish my pizza and my glass of bubbly!” 

So I refocus. I am an ex-girls’ guide. Instead of trying to swallow, I manage to eject the piece of pizza out of my throat. It flies into my hand and thoughtfully I put it in a cup, give it to the waiter and go back to my seat, to finish my dinner and the date, politely. 

Now, it is not lost on me that I took my field research to another level by unconsciously creating a situation that tested the veracity of his statement: drama is really not this guy’s cup of tea! I have to give him credit: his profile was not lying! 

I am 52, I’ve travelled to 70 countries. I am intelligent, resourceful and solvent, but it is not until the next morning that I fully realised that instead of taking the time to process and to react in alignment with the woman I wish to BE, I did what my parents raised me to DO: I ignored my needs and boundaries; I did not realise that my compassion was aimed at him, rather than towards myself; I blindly forgot to acknowledge that I saved my own life. 

These are mistakes women often make. If I choke, it is because his daughter is five. “You know, I am a teacher and I really think you should give a childhood to your daughter,” I told him. At least that evening I managed to stand up for her, even though I failed to stand up for myself.