October 2021 – Lisbon, Portugal

I matched with the Mayor of Lisbon on Tinder and started laughing the second our conversation started. He was probably the most comical and entertaining person I had ever “met”.

He asked almost immediately to meet up and I told him I had a friend visiting for the week then was heading to Rome and Romania for a week before coming back to Lisbon.

The Mayor said we should just all go out because he would be leaving, back to London (in case you haven’t deduced on your own… he was not the actual mayor of Lisbon…) right after I got back.

Before I could finish thinking how great it was that he said we should all go out instead of “ditch your friend”, he followed up with: then if you are rubbish, your friend might be a good back up.

I liked him even more.

My friend (member of the board of directors) was on her own mini international Tinderella journey and was planning to meet up with someone later that night too, so it all worked out.

She and I headed down to Bairro Alto for a night of cocktails and potential right swipes.

The mayor let me know when he was on his way and I went and met him a couple of blocks over so we could have a quick intro before becoming a third wheel then potential double date.

It was a pretty automatic non-attraction for me – his pics weren’t the most accurate (I actually had a hard time identifying him in person) and he admitted he had lost a considerable amount of weight since his photos were taken and that they were pretty dated.

I joked where was his friend to be my back up plan and he said maybe my friend’s tinder date would be a better match and we could just trade.

Back up plans in place, we headed back to my friend for a night of ridiculousness.

We passed 3 or 4 bars on our way to her and the Mayor stopped to talk to no less than 10 people. He knew every bouncer, promoter, random person on the street. I said I thought he was only in town for a little while and asked how often he was in Lisbon. He said he had been “a couple times before” and had been there about a week this time.

We made our way through his fan club and to my friend and it was instant absurdity from the first round of cocktails (of 90).

We were a living sitcom featuring 2 fluffy Americans and a Zimbabwean Londoner, all of a certain age. Picture a SlimJim Between 2 marshmallows, one being an extra tall marshmallow.

My friend’s tinder date was a flake, so the mayor took over swiping duties.

We attempted a “bar crawl” but had to stop every 3 feet for the mayor to shake hands and introduce us to a bar owner or some random person he knew.

I randomly decided I needed a tattoo and took off to find a tattoo shop. Luckily, when my friend and the mayor found me in front of one, it was closed.

I sweet talked (begged) a bar to fire up some toasties for us well after the “kitchen” was shut down.

As bars were starting to wind down and most of the kids were heading to pink street for after hours fun, my friend’s tinder date actually came through.

He came and met all three of us and it was clearly a vibe between her and him. He asked if the mayor and I were together and the mayor answered “no” on our behalf.

My friend and her late night date decided to continue their evening at our airbnb so I told the mayor I was sleeping on his couch and he declared “slumber party!” And I declared “couch!”

That established, we parted ways with my friend and her date.

When we got to the mayor’s apartment, I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. It was incredible. Like luxury, full service, not in my realm of possibility, gorgeous.

I commented on how nice his place was and he said: yeah, it’s not bad for while I am having my flat renovated.

Riiiight, not bad. It’ll do, I guess.

I asked him what he did for work that let him be away for so long (aka: afford this) and he said he was in sales. That made all the mayoring sense!

I went in to use the bathroom and through the shower door saw an absolute Mecca of products. Scrubs, deep conditioner, moisturisers, all the things that I had not squeezed in to travel bottles and missed desperately.

I popped my head out the door and yelled “I’m taking a shower! …. NOT for sex!”

Through his laughter, the mayor told me to knock myself out and where the towels were.

30 minutes later, I emerged scrubbed and conditioned and moisturised to find the mayor snoring away and a pillow and blanket on the couch.

I woke up to my alarm going off, a raging hangover, 122 texts from my friend, and 18 minutes to make it to my Covid test so I could fly to Italy in 24 hours.

To add to the ongoing sitcom… the Mayor’s fancy building had lost power, so the mayor went out to the breezeway, in his oversized robe and actual slippers to hold a townhall with his temporary neighbors, all of whom he of course knew.

This meeting was still taking place when I bolted out the door, and muffled a “thanks” as I kept my head down to avoid the gaze and judgement of his constitutes. If he wasn’t already a “politician”, the woman sneaking out his door in the early morning darkness, sealed the deal.

By the grace of the travel gods and many miracles, I made it to meet my friend who was in the same shape (but less moisturised) for our tests.

15 minutes in to standing in line, she looked at me and said: where are your tights??

Good question.