The One Who Dressed In Pleather

Yesterday I made an epic error.

A monumental mistake.

I decided to Match like a man (or how I imagine men like to Match).

I have long suspected that when using Tinder, many men swipe right on every single profile, thus increasing their odds of success.  I reckon this probably extends to (every day on Match, you are given the option to yay or nay through a selection of a hundred eligibles).  So I made the bold decision to say yes to all of them.  I messaged Amy to inform her of my intentions, and embarked on some swipy-swiping.

Seconds later, I get a flurry of messages…

If you do that – Match ADDS THEM TO YOUR FAVOURITES.

I knew it was serious, she’d used CAPITAL LETTERS.

Muttering profanities, I braced myself to assess the damage…

Just for clarification, if you ‘favourite’ someone on Match, they get a notification and there’s no way of removing them from your list of faves (like a drunken text message but WORSE). I had previously wondered where the list of favourites was generated from… And now I knew.

Luckily, Amy had halted my action before I managed to get myself into too much trouble.  I took a deep breath and scrolled through my recently extended favourites list.  Most were pretty dull.

And then there was LeatherLover17.

LeatherLover17 was pretty hot.  He was 34 and lived in Reading.  So far, so good.  He had 4 profile pictures which were variations of the same shot (what is it with these multiple identical photos FFS?!)  He had nice thighs.

Nice thighs encased in a nice, tight super-shiny faux-leather all-in-one suit…

He even fuzzed out his face in one of them which meant I didn’t have to do it myself before posting here (I initially thought it was a special mask, but after zooming in, we realised this wasn’t the case).

He sounded interesting…

Amy reckoned I should meet him.  Amy offered to sit in the corner and observe. Amy said I should think of the readers.  Hell, Amy even offered to pay for dinner and drinks and lend me her favourite leather gloves (red, with a fleck of leopard print) and told me to think of the beautiful leather babies…

Clearly I refused.

She decided I should message him and say:

I read your profile. Doesn’t being dressed head to toe in leather not make you melt like stilettos and leather gloves?


Hey, sorry if this is a bit forward, but I got a little notification that you’d checked out my profile … I had a read of yours and can’t believe you’ve had to hide a part of you in past relationships.  That makes me sad. Noone should hide who they are.  That was all really.  Hope you’re well. X


No. No. NO.

Leatherlover17 provided hours of entertainment.

We discussed at length the special suit.  We reckon it has a full length under-zip. But even then, how does he get into it? Lashings of talc? Sheer determination? Lots of helpers? We also weren’t so sure how he managed to get it so shiny (especially with the mattifying effects of talc…) Baby oil was the odds-on favourite, but it looks like we’ll never know now.  

We pontificated over whether he would he arrive on a date with it under his day-to-day suit…  Probably not, we decided – simply not practical.  Just how squeaky would it be?  Where does one go to get a full-length fake leather onesie anyway, y’know, if (hypothetically speaking) one wanted to make a special effort for the date…?  (turns out there are a surprising number of specialist retailers – the sort you don’t really want to be looking at on your work laptop…) How does he pee (obvs this involved some more zooming action)? Etc.


How are we going to sleep?!

As curious as I am, I still couldn’t bring myself to message him despite Amy’s suggestion that we ‘let the internet decide’ (I don’t want to be responsible for my mum having a heart attack). So here we are, none the wiser.

Sorry about that.



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