Did you think Tinder was a jungle? Welcome to Sodom and Gomorrah! 🍷

At the age of 60-plus, in addition to a painting class and a retreat on the big questions, I embarked on a delusional anthropological journey to "Tinderland" – the land of unlimited possibilities and impossible men.

This is a travelogue from Tinderland. No filters, no Botox for reality.

My name is Yael and I live in a movie.

Unfortunately, this is not a Disney movie. The prince on the white horse is stuck in traffic on the Ayalon highway, and the horse is probably dead. What remains is a combination of a low-budget disaster movie and a black comedy about survival in the third age.

I thought I'd find love there, or at least intelligent conversation. In reality? Welcome to Sodom and Gomorrah, the Tinderland version.

Take a look at my "dream" (or nightmare) team:

🧊 The "solids": those that prove themselves to be as stable as a rock, but behave like a flammable liquid next to a match.

✈️ People of the big world: fly to Italy every week in business class, but on a date they'll invite you for a ride on a public bench (the water from the fountain - on them!).

🤒 The romantic hypochondriacs: Those who are sure that a virus, a nagging cough, and pictures of a thermometer are an excellent basis for teasing.

🔪 And for dessert – a closed class of my own: the narcissists, the psychopaths, and those who think that "L"T is a legitimate word.

I started this blog to document the circus. Not to whine (well, maybe a little), but mostly to laugh. It's going to be a moving, funny, and sometimes a little painful journey. But hey, at least it's not boring for me.

* Legal disclaimer: Any connection to reality is strictly coincidental, unless you identified yourself - in which case, you still owe me for that coffee. And sorry, but you earned it honestly.