Great.
A Tinder Unicorn
As I walked to the restaurant, I realized that Jude would be the very first person I’d ever met online. Even to me, it sounded impossible. How could that be when half of all marriages started online these days?
I immediately wondered if this Tinder date would become one of those kinds of stories: against all odds, two complete strangers meet on a dating app and end up being together.
Nooooo.
I reminded myself that this encounter was pure research. I wasn’t going to have sex with him, he was not going to become my boyfriend, and under no circumstances were we in any way going to be “together” in the near future.
I entered the restaurant and looked around.
I saw no one who bore even a passing resemblance to Jude, but what did I know?
Everyone had said that no one looked like their profile photos anyway.
I noticed some random guy in a dark shirt and trousers.
Could he be Jude? He didn’t appear to be looking for anyone, but he wasn’t going anywhere either. He was just standing there, sort of leaning up against the wall. Would Jude do that? Would he just stand there?
I went up to the guy. “Are you Jude?” I asked.
He looked at me like I was a piece of crud on the bottom of his shoe.
“No,” he said sharply.
I backed off and went to the bar.
I took a seat next to a woman who was turned away from me. I ordered a white wine with a glass of ice on the side.
What if Jude didn’t show up?
He would though. Of that, everyone had assured me. Because people on Tinder put so much work into arranging a meeting, they tended to honor the commitment. So there was that at least.
Then I suddenly sat straight up.
The woman on the other side of the woman next to me had begun talking. Loudly.
She was man bashing.
I scooted over a little on my stool.
All I can say is that I’ve heard a lot of man bashing in my life, but this was different. The vitriol, the bitterness, the rage. I hit the Record button and slid my phone closer.
She immediately stopped talking. I waited a moment, then slid my phone back. I looked at the recording and hit Delete.
“Excuse me?” she said in a loud, fake-sweet voice.
Uh-oh.
“I noticed that as soon as we started talking, you were doing something on your phone. And when we stopped talking, you took your phone back. Were you recording me?”
Shite. “I was,” I admitted, coming up with a quick explanation about how I was doing a story about Tinder and just wanted to make sure my tape recorder was working.
“Tinder sucks,” she roared. “It’s the worst. I only go on it if I feel like getting a free drink out of a guy. And most of the time I can’t even get that!”
I, on the other hand, apparently could, because Jude arrived at that very moment. And, well, let’s just say that he was taller and a lot better looking irl than he was in his photos.