Tinder Date #137: A Review

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Today at noon, I received a message from her about an argument we had the night before. It said something about the Mexican refugee camps and how the kids born in this country aren’t citizens. It was one of the first conversations we had and I wanted to leave right then.

It wasn’t about what she was saying. Truth of the matter is, I could give a flying fuck in the night about her stance on political issues. But it was something about how she was saying these statements. Each one was connected to another idea with no supporting structure, like a tangled mess of cords in the bottom of your suitcase. I snacked on kung pow chicken as I listened further.

“Look people don’t believe me, but I know. I’ve lived in 14 countries and can speak several different languages. I use to live with a rich Jewish family that had connections. Like they told me Obama was going to be president back in the 90’s. Like I knew then!”

I took a sip of my Moscow Mule. This girl fully believed every syllable she was saying. It reminded me of a group of 70’s year olds sipping coffee at 6 am in a Greek Restaurant and talking about the Illuminati.

“I believe you. I’ve heard some of these conspiracy theories before.

“THESE ARE NOT CONSPIRACY THEORIES! I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY THESE THAT!”

I smiled and ordered another drink.

Things actually calmed down after that and we started talking about cities in Michigan. Then moving out of mitten.

She mentioned that she always had to keep moving to the next thing. It’s why she traveled so much. It’s why she had these crazy lifestyle stories. Like living on the streets in London, or stealing a passport from an Irish drug kingpin and leaving it in a taxi.

After she told me that, I knew exactly who she was. I think that is the reason why I wanted to leave. A lot of people I’ve met who travel have this calmness to them that’s hard to put into words. I like to think it’s the things they’ve experienced coming through their actions. But I think it only happens when you reflect and compare which is hard to do when you’re chasing the next thing.

Her stories were like a season of Weeds or Orange is the New Black (Yes I know, same writer). Lots of self induced shit, piled on with more self induced shit. I mean the reason she’s in Chicago in the first place is because she is traveling back home to Michigan and decided to not get on the last bus. All I kept thinking about is what is this girl running from? Do I really want to find out and get tangled in all that?

I sure as fuck didn’t but I’m always game for an adventure and a good story. So I stuck around.

#

Later today, at 5:00pm a few more messages came in from her. All this is really strange considering she still has my number. It’s never good when someone jumps back a level of communication.

They read:

“What’s it like being gay and dating women? Like I’m just curious?”

Hahaha

She was cute. Definitely one of the better looking girls I’ve met off Tinder. She was throwing the cat at me all night. But I wasn’t interested and ended up going home alone. My mind kept running with the last handful of shitty one night stands where I felt like an ass hat.

Hank Moody would say “A morning of awkwardness is better than a night of loneliness.” That fucker doesn’t know what he is talking about. There are worst things than being alone, but it often takes a while to figure that out. I’d rather be alone than with someone I can’t seem to find anything beautiful about. It feels too much like settling.

I had my first one night stand when I was 18. I was at my buddy house and I didn’t catch her name. It was like a badge of honor. Friends cheered me on. But 10 years later, things are different. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me and most of the one night stands go one of two ways.

Sometimes they’re like a cherry on top of a gorgeous night where two people meet randomly, click on different levels, and have an adventure around the city. Those ones stick with me forever.

But the ones I have off this app are closer to the other kind. Their all business, like the red light district in Amsterdam. Two humans borrowing each other to masturbate with because they have this emotional urge inside of them. I use to be okay with that, but lately it’s been feeling less like free will.

Dating use to be fun, why does it suck now?

#

In summary,

Don’t use the phrase “Conspiracy Theories” ever.

Cute girls aren’t use to getting rejected by their personalities.

Always follow the golden rule: “Never bump uglies with crazy” even if that means you get called gay.

Tinder sucks.

And I feel like an alien for preferring some type of deep connection with a few people as apposed to just skimming the surface with hundreds of people.

2 out of 10, would not date again.

If Tinder Profiles Were More Than 500 Characters: Pt. 3

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Part 1 Part 2

You:

-Hold my hair back when I puke

-Gives honest thoughts on my writing

-Are up to blow off work one Thursday to go to Navy Pier but happen to run into your boss when drunk walking down the boardwalk. You duck behind a Red Eye paper dispenser while I walk over to distract him, kind of like Julia Styles in 10 Things I Hate About You, only I keep my clothes on but would flash as a last resort.

-Thinks swing dancing in New Orleans is one hell of a vacation

——————————————————-

I:

-Can flip eggs without a spatula

—————————————————–

Pretty fair trade if I don’t say so myself.

If Tinder Profiles Were More Than 500 Characters: Pt. 2

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Part 1

-I don’t want you to come straight over to my apartment to watch Netflix

-I don’t want to send you $5 on Venmo for naked Snapchat pictures

-I want to meet at a coffee shop or bar

-I want you to get upset at me for being late because I thought we were meeting at a different spot down the street

-I want to hear about your day over glasses clinking and the faint murmur of 90’s alternative music

-I want to interrupt with various jokes that show off your perfect snorty laugh

-I want to hear about your superstition with ghosts and how you once saw a figure in black when you worked at the Old Adolphus Hotel

-I want to whisk you out of the bar and wonder around the city looking for other haunted buildings

-As we walk, I want to tell you how much I love to write, despite the amount of times I’ve been told my writing sucks

-I want to hear the passion that gets your blood pumping

-I want to finally find a dark building and make up a story why one light is still on

-I want to get so lost in our conversation I miss the last train home

-I don’t want to get super “handsy” when we stand behind your car, just bask in the tension of our eyes lingering during a pregnant pause

-I want you to say awkward things because your happily uncomfortable in the moment

-I want to interrupt by pulling you in for a kiss and breaking it off before you reach to bite my lower lip

-I want to say good night and walk an hour back home, past our haunted building, thinking about how excited I am to see you again

If you can’t handle any of that please swipe left

 

If Tinder Profiles Were More Than 500 Characters: Pt. 1

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Me:

-Aspiring writer to be featured on “The Best of Craigslist”

-Professional at playing hide and seek from my boss for 8 hours straight.

-Blogger, but not in the conventional click bait “10 ways to be told how to do something by a person who’s currently forcing a giant brown log into porcelain because they don’t like working for someone else, need money for their Frosted Flakes dinner, and get a soft chub at the idea of telling someone else how to do something, they’ve done a few times.” I just write short fiction.

-Actual read profiles (sorry)

-Not really into poly relationships, mainly because (Insert a dad joke about angles and Geometry here)

– Would like to find the original girl that wrote “If your beard doesn’t connect, neither can we” and buy her a drink.

You:

-Must have personality, wit, and enjoy the occasional cocktail, which depending on both ends of the conversation, may lead to a shitload more of them.

-Consider a “Shitload” to be an actual unit of measurement and wished one day it would officially be entered into the metric system.

-Thinks the guy that invented the upside-down smiley emoji to be the face of our generation

-Have once tied your bootlaces so tight that you had to perform a surgical operation with a butter knife to remove them from your leg. But it really wasn’t a planed thing. Like you were just walking down busy McKinney Ave, near Shell Shack, with your omelet material for the week. Some of it says organic produce on the package, but it’s not from Whole Foods, so you’re kinda on the fence about it, but hey, we’re all trying to save some money and be healthy at the same time. Look the point is, you moved out of your way for the sweet old couple ahead of you wear matching SMU gear and the next thing you know, your left bootlace gets welded to the right, forcing you to move like you’ve seen way too many kidnap movies. The weeble-wabble finally falls to the pavement, leaving literally egg all over your face, where all the Alpha Gamma Delta girls sipping mimosas laugh hysterically.

-Like the Beatles

Swiper no Swiping

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“Can I ask you a question?”

That’s always an interesting thing to hear when you first meet someone. The anticipation afterwards killed me. Best to bask in it for a minute and take a few guesses. Maybe it’s ‘Could you date a women with a dick?’ or ‘I just won a shit ton of money and don’t know what to do with it all, do you want some?’ You really never know.

“Sure go for it,” I said. Her eyes poked out a bit. She was a sweet girl. Definitely seen some shit, some of the scars came through in her personality. But hadn’t been 100% through the wringer like yours truly. A lot of guys get turned on by that innocence. They want to keep the girl safe from all the shit out there. Not me. I feel the most at home with a yelling match about how the rent money was spent on coke. Times like those is when you really know who you’re dealing with.

“So why did you swipe right?” she asked. I blanked. I should’ve seen this one coming. Everyone wants to know what you see in them. I still wasn’t sure what to say. Realistically, I swiped right so many times on dead ends it gave me arthritis. My pictures suck, I’m a hobbit among Texans, and I have about $2.33 currently in my checking account. But I’ll still put my personality up against anyone within the DFW area. It’s just hard when I only get 20 seconds face time.

I spoke, “Because CLEARLY you are the easiest girl on Tinder.”

She spit up her wine laughing. I ordered another beer.

The Future of OKC

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She just grabbed the last box. A doctor. It was always a doctor. Even if he had a PhD. in interpretive dance, he was technically still a fucking doctor. Which meant more status than a broke writer. Fuck it, he thought. The best way to get over someone is to find someone new.

He pulled open his laptop and typed OkCupid in the google search bar. The screen loaded and he filled in his credentials.

User name: Mischief_Creator

But his password tripped him up every time. It was either Pussyslayer34 or NeedleDick14, both nicknames he’d received in college. Finally the screen loaded. “Welcome back Tom! There’s been a few changes since you’ve been away. Click ‘Next’ and we’ll walk you through them.”

“Strange,” He thought. “But I suppose it was bound to happen.” Tom had been a veteran since 2011. His Friends with Benefits neighbor showed him the site one night before heading to the bar. “It’s like shopping for Men! I fucking love it!” She said. Yet I would always seem to get a text after each date that read “Come over & Brg Condoms”.

He read on. “In an effort to be more personable. We’re no longer using user names. Please type your real name.” I guess internet dating has finally become the norm. No longer a shameful back alley thing. Couldn’t argue with that. I’d been on hundreds of dates myself. He typed ‘Tom Swartz in the column and clicked next.

“Thanks! We’re almost there!” A virtual pat on the back. “Now we need you to update your profile!” He figured this was normal protocol to update after he’d been away. Tom took a brief glance. “It’s all still relevant,” he thought. He scrolled down and hit Next.

“ERROR!” appeared in giant red letters. Beneath it read, “Too little emoji’s on profile!” What the fuck? Since when did that become a thing? He had to google how to use emoji’s on iOS as he only knew how to do it with semicolons. Finally he placed an upside down smiley face that he found funny and pressed next. The error message appeared again. This time it said “A minimum of 15 emoji’s needed.” Well this is stupid. He placed 14 more next to the first one and continued on.

“Great! Just one last thing.” Finally. This shit is taking forever. “We just need the link to your YELP! Dater” Tom took a sip of his water. What the hell? He clicked the hyperlink. “Yelp Dater: Because you need to know what you’re getting yourself into.” There were different sections for men and women. He clicked at random. A picture of chiseled jaw appeared below it read Jack Williams 9.5/10 reviews: “A real Gentleman. He let me wear his jacket on the walk to my Hyundai WD” Another read: “Great Girth 😉 WD”

Tom typed his name in the search bar. It had a random picture of him firing the finger guns at the camera. Underneath it said Tom Swartz 4.5/10 and only one review. “Only date if you like getting your insides scraped by a q-tip for 45 seconds WND” He had to google the last acronym. It meant exactly what he hoped it didn’t.

“Can’t win ’em all,” he thought. He copy and pasted the link. “Thanks Tom! Now get to swiping!” Swiping? I thought this was OKC, not Tinder. Oh well. The first girl popped up. Gloria. Her pictures where of only her giving a kissy face and showing maximum allowable cleavage within the particular shirt, accept for the last one in which showed her ass poking out enough to demonstrate she’d done a dead-lift or two. Maybe the profile demonstrated something. “This sums me up: smiley face, frowny face, beach emoji, airplane, crying face, water drops, mouth.” Huh. He swiped left.

Tom went at this for a while but all the profiles were the same. Same styles of pictures. Same “Live.Laugh.Love” and sixty five emoji’s demonstrating the slow death of the English language.

“Fuck this!” He thought. I’m trying to get back out there. I’m tired of hearing all this shit about leagues and staying in my lane. I don’t want to swipe a certain way and prey to the gods they swipe the same way. I want to choose. I want to find someone that likes words. Someone that can express themselves. Someone that want to understand and be understood.

He showcased his determination while walking into Starbucks and ordering a coffee. As he was getting a straw, he laid eyes on a beautiful dark haired girl. She was typing away on a Mac. “Actual words,” he thought. He walked over and just when he was about to speak he noticed her Spotify on her phone. Modest Mouse. Old School Modest Mouse. Lonesome Crowded West baby! Back when Issac had a drinking problem and a lisp. The glory days!

He tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I got to give you mad props on your music choice. It’s one of my favorite albums of all time.” Her eyes lit up. “Mine too! My brothers introduced me to it back home in Michigan.” “Get the fuck outta here!” Tom said. “You’re from Michigan too?”

They hit it off. Time felt like it stopped for a while.She had came down to Texas for law school at SMU. He use to work in the Patent Office and talked about the struggles of being a lawyer. He told her how he had the same dream but realized while working there, it wasn’t for him. That made her frightened. Tom said, “Look you can’t be afraid of your destiny. This is why you’re here! Get Excited!” She smiled after that. They talked for a while longer until finally there was a break in the conversation. Tom knew what that meant.

“I need to let you get back to studying but I would love to see you again sometime,” He said, ” Let’s exchange numbers Ms._____”

“Alicia. Alicia Horner. And I’d like that too Mr.___” Responding with the same happy tone.

“Tom Swartz” He answered.

She began typing in her phone and Tom followed suit.

“My number is 267….”

“Wait. Wait.” She said. He saw her smile vanish.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“I only date guys with a 7 YELP Dater rating or higher.”