As a married woman, I didn't feel smug watching Netflix's the Tinder Swindler. Instead I felt petrified, writes Nicola Alpe. Photo / Netflix
As a married woman, I didn't feel smug watching Netflix's the Tinder Swindler. Instead I felt petrified, writes Nicola Alpe. Photo / Netflix
OPINION:
There is a good reason why the Tinder Swindler has struck a chord with women the world over. We've all fallen for a Simon Leviev; a good-looking dude with swagger, exacerbated by a perception of wealth, bringing along good booze and fancy cars, only for us at some stageto realise he is in fact not all that and a bag of chips and suddenly his attraction tapers off rapidly.
We've all been a Cecilie; stars in our eyes, believing unfailingly in the notion of a happy ever after and seeing only the very best in the object of our affection, although referencing Disney's Beauty and the Beast optional. Not all of us have had the restraint of Pernilla, not falling into bed with this supposed Man-God, and we have all wanted to be Ayleen or are lucky enough to know someone like her. She is the stuff of legend.
At first glance the documentary/movie may seem fantastical, a whimsical folly and given the extravagance, something completely irrelevant to our humble New Zealand lives. But relatable it is, for every woman can identify with at least one aspect of it and given so many parts of our lives are lived through social media, the modern love life is no different.
As a married woman, I didn't feel smug watching Netflix's the Tinder Swindler. Instead I felt petrified, writes Nicola Alpe. Photo / Netflix
As a married woman, I didn't feel smug watching it. Instead I felt petrified. Is this really what it's like out there for educated, attractive and decent single women? Cecilie, with over 1,000 matches? Imagine the time invested in matching with over 1,000 other people. Not to mention the emotional roller coaster of the match, the elation and despair of the messaging, the time invested getting ready for the date and then the actual date itself. No wonder she saw that private jet and went for it; it was an immediate return on investment. I can't even comprehend the effort. Not that I condone flying anywhere with someone you don't know, even on a commercial flight. I would have been the friend sending messages of caution. Or would I?
As Cecilie, Pernilla and Ayleen took us through the stories of their relationships with the Tinder Swindler, it made for gripping watching. The swindle itself was relatively simple, the comparison to a Ponzi scheme brilliant. But while a cautionary tale, because how many people right now don't know what Simon Leviev looks like, it's also a tale of trust, friendship, and how there really isn't anything like a woman scorned.
In a world where women are constantly pitted against each other, nothing is more competitive than a love rival, and it's been that way long before Anne Boleyn was on the scene. No amount of self-awareness and leaning in will change the biological desire women have for monogamy with the Alpha Male, yet here are three women thrust together by the most unconscionable of infidelities, and in a fantastical change of narrative and with very little persuasion required, they proved that we need to trust the sisterhood more often than we do.
Some of the most iconic female relationships featured in shows and movies are where the female characters entertain us by double crossing each other and playing into the tired narrative that women can't co-exist in a friendship with genuine affection, support and loyalty. But Cecilie, Pernilla and Ayleen have given me hope, along with icons Meredith and Christina, and newcomers Rebecca and Keeley, that we can be gripped and entertained with a new script that may spill over more often into real life.
