A Tinder Moment

“I don’t go on many coffee dates, or any dates for that matter, but when I do, nine times out of ten, the conversation steers towards “I’m not really looking for a relationship but would you consider a booty call  friend with benefits deal.” To which I usually reply, ‘The only man who can legit ask that and get a ‘yes’ from me is going to be Gerard Butler.’”

So, there I was, sitting across from a Libra in a coffee shop in total, awkward silence. Even though we were meeting for the first time, we looked like a divorced couple meeting to discuss separation of property. All my efforts to engage him in conversation were thwarted by a scowl meant to dissuade me from making the meeting last longer than it took to finish our coffee. 

But small talk seemed to be okay and so we discussed things like the weather, his parents’ dating life and his CrossFit training – which is going really well, in case you were wondering.

Other than that, he made it very obvious that he wasn't interested.

If I had to be honest, I saw the first sign of disinterest the night before when, upon texting to confirm our plans, he only sent back a smiley face. Now, after a week of constant texting, and the experience of having entire relationships of communicating through text only (thank you technology), I knew receiving an emoji as a reply was not a good sign.

So, how did I get to my Tinder moment?

Well … We both swiped right.

 What does that even mean? Funny you should ask.

After I swore off all forms of online dating, and reaffirmed my vow to wait patiently for Gerard Butler to realize I exist and that we might be meant for each other, my girl friend introduced me to an app called Tinder. I wasn’t going to do it, but then I thought, why not? It couldn’t be worse than the time I tried OKCupid, Match and PoF – at the same time.

But what is Tinder?

If OKCupid and that “Hot or Not” television show had a baby, Tinder would be the illegitimate lovechild.

Tinder is a location-based, booty-call-app (which I thought was a dating app) that pulls info from your Facebook to create a limited ‘dating’ profile and hooks you up with people in your area. You flip through photos of singles (or people you hope are single), and if you think someone is hot, you swipe right; if not, you swipe left and you never see them again. If they swipe right, too, then it’s a match and you get to chat within the app and go from there.

Yes, it’s vain and shallow.

However, in a slightly less shallow move, I swiped right on a guy who most wouldn’t consider attractive, but we had sarcasm in common and he met my base criteria – he was over 30 years old. Turns out, he swiped right, too.

And that’s how I met the scowling Libra, a 42-ish, single dad whom, when I asked for another photo, did not presume to send a snapshot of his junk. #winning

We chatted through text for a few days, set a coffee date and he did not stand me up … unfortunately.

I should have known when he dismounted from his CrossFit sticker-covered, elevated Jeep Rubicon; his long, peppered hair flowing in the breeze; wearing a smedium CrossFit t-shirt; medium-length cargo shorts; flip-flops; a pookah shell necklace; and the disinterested “s’up” greeting with one-armed hug; that this was not going to be a match. But I’m always up for meeting new people and from our textversations, we seemed to have a lot in common.

Okay, so … we are both single parents, dig sarcasm and work out.

Apparently, he did not want to be friends.

I cut things off before our coffee had a chance to get cold and just in time to make it to open gym because I wasn’t sure I could listen to another story about how much he lifted this one time or how many times he PR’d Fran or why he only dates CrossFit chicks. While I wasn’t expecting much, the Libra’s self-absorbed attitude, plus the fact that he was at least five to six years older than the age listed on his profile, was a huge turn-off. He left without saying good-bye, speeding off in his Jeep Rubicon – the spokes-vehicle for tools everywhere.

(No disrespect to Jeep Rubicon owners, it has been my experience that men I meet who own one have turned out to be tools.)

A few days later, he sent a slightly accusatory text asking me what happened, as if it were my fault he wasted our time and expected an explanation. I knew this could only mean one of two things:

• His other prospects didn’t pan out.
• He text the wrong person.

 I didn’t reply back and shortly after, I deleted the app from my phone.

Online dating was supposed to be a way to expand the demographic of men I was already meeting to perhaps include something other than boy toys looking to get their MILF card punched and older men in the midst of various stages of a mid-life crisis trying to re-live their youth through younger women, alcohol and bad decisions. 

But I’m meeting the same guys online as I am offline.

The only difference is that online dating allows me to meet people from the comfort of my couch, in my pajamas, watching Netflix; which beats getting dolled up and shaved to go wading through a sweaty, cologne drenched sausage fest bar crawl on the off-chance someone will be more interesting than their dance moves, choice in wardrobe and pick-up lines.

I’m all about time management, just not time wasted. It’s almost too much work. Plus, it gets in the way of gym time.