One Step Closer

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I messaged her on a whim. Not because I didn’t think she wouldn’t respond, but because my luck has been so bad lately in the Tinder world. She was a Latina princess. Looked like she had back dimples, and had to walk sideways through some closets.

As much as I enjoy this type, it means about dick and shit compared to a personality. It’s unfortunately taken me almost 30 years for me to figure that one out. My problem is I’m a perfectionist. I may only have 4 or 5 hobbies, but I plan to do those 4 or 5 hobbies the best I can until I die. For some reason, dating seams to fall in that spectrum. I could be out with a girl that the bartender is downloading mental snapshots for his spank bank as we order a drink, but if she doesn’t meet most of the criteria, my eyes are already wondering. But I digress.

The online game is hit or miss for me. The Engineer part of me wants to believe in technology bringing the world together. But the other part who has ran down this path 400 times, knows I can save more time asking out every girl I see at the local Jewel Osco.

So I send out this message and she bites. I can tell right away that her English isn’t so hot, but I don’t call her out on it. When I speak my broken Spanish, I get self conscious as fuck. We message back and forth about when and why moved to Chicago. She’s an Au-pair wanting to learn English.

Reading in between the lines, I get the feeling that she wanted a little more than that. What exactly, I have no idea, but it was obvious. The rumbling in my gut wanted to find out more. We talked about meeting for coffee. I knew a few spots around her place. I wanted help with “mi espanol” y she wanted help with English. The perfect set up in between talking about our commonality about our young nieces.

She said she just met her one year old niece, right before moving here. I asked if it was hard, leaving all that behind for a dream.

……

……

She unmatched me.

……..

……

Damn it.

Yet, at the same time. I’m one step closer.

 

 

 

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