Meeting new people can be challenging. Meeting new people to date is even more
challenging. These days one of the more
common places to meet new people is online.
The following is an email my friend Caleb sent me, describing an experience
he recently had with one of the many online dating platforms.
Corban, it was absolutely a joy getting to catch up last weekend. I
was really glad to hear from you and how life is coming along these days. I
miss you my friend, and surely hope this finds you well. As promised, here is a
story in great detail from my ridiculous, slightly shameful night with 3 female
FBI agents and way too much…milk (milk was a bad choice).
It all began with the crushing defeat of the team with the
Cinderella-story by the not-so-fairy-tailish NBA powerhouse from a certain Lone
Star state. As the game came to a close in utter annihilation, I received a
text from a friend, inquiring as to what I had planned for the rest of the
night. Not seeing the message for some time, I picked up my phone to plan out
my reply. Before I could respond, he arrived in giddy excitement.
"There is this fine looking girl on Tinder, who’s at Blind Bear
with her friends and we're going to meet up; wanna come?"
Let me back up a bit, to explain this "Tinder." Tinder is
hailed as "the digital equivalent of stepping into a party and immediately
knowing which of the people you find attractive think you’re good looking,
too" by the Huffington Post. Apparently hooking up happens in real time,
in an unreal way.
Though I had an inkling as to what this night might hold, I embarked
with Darin to the trendy bar where his not-so-romantic crush was waiting. In
the dimly lit light of the speakeasy-themed…dairy farm…we scanned the room for
a small group of young women who were also using their radar systems to spot
the not-so-knight in shining armor in the throng of souls looking for something
stronger than their eleven dollar…milkshakes…could muster.
He finally locked eyes with a girl who matched the profile on his
Tinder account. With long brown hair and an inviting smile she threw her arms
around him in a friendly hug, perhaps to minimize the awkwardness of finally
meeting the guy who only previously existed in her phone. As they paired off to
get acquainted the faithful friends and I sat down to try and ease the oddness
we were feeling at being wing-women and wing-men who had apparently been grounded
indefinitely. Who needs a wing-man when you have Tinder?
In the course of our conversation about who we are, where each of us
is from and what we're doing here in this city, one friend mentioned that she
was studying seismology as a graduate student at the local university. At this
point my ears perked up; for we were in a city not known for its emphasis on
the study of the earth's plates and geologic motion. An odd field of study for
this particular region indeed. As I sipped my…milk…on the rocks and watched the
young singer belt out an old rock song that my parents probably listened to
many times in their youth, I felt the vapid intentions of the momentary lovers
from across the room as they offered forced smiles and awkward caresses of the
shoulder. But what can you expect from two strangers who both know the
direction of the end of the night? When Tinder Girl and her friends got up to
use the bathroom, Aaron turned to me and stated, secretly, "Dude, my girl
is an F.B.I. agent." Midway through sipping my milk I heard these words
and stopped my swallow. Before I could respond, they returned from the bathroom
and announced, "We're going to get out of here."
After we had all finished…our shakes and milk glasses…the consensus
was to move along to the next dairy of choice, in which a lively blues band had
started to play, and the mood was vibrant. At the entrance to the dairy, there
sat one of those pesky hostess wenches that just wants your money and checks to
make sure your not an underage teenager who snuck out of their parents house.
Just when I was about to lament the fact that I wasn't carrying the $5 needed
to gain entrance, TInder Girl pulled out a wallet, and showed the girl at the
door. With a surprised and irksome look on her face, she waved us all in to the
bar. We had kept our $5, and the plot had thickened more.
When our time at the music filled…dairy…had ended we journeyed to
the only place that made sense: the dance club. Before we got to the entrance
one of Tinder Girl's friend whispered, "I hope they don't do a frisk
down" with a wink "cause some of us are packin" as she motioned
to her leg. The foggy conscience I called my mental state heard what she had
said, but couldn't respond in any other manner than with laughter.
Upon leaving the dance club at 2 a.m, we ventured to the ladies'
apartment, just a few blocks away. Darin tried eagerly to swoon his Tinder love
and persuade her to let him come up with her to the place where I imagined they
would probably just play a board game or some other innocent activity that had
nothing to do with sex. Naivety aside, I desperately hoped that nothing would
come of their dance and leave me either forced to head upstairs with them to an
unknown fate or left on my own to find a way home. As they bantered back and
forth in flirtatious fashion, I let my milk influenced gaze take in the empty
streets and dark buildings, and feel the magnitude of the vacancy. After a
couple minutes of this indecisive dialogue she curtly said goodbye and walked
up the stairs...alone. Without seeming too distraught, Darin turned to me and
shrugged his shoulders.
"Lets get a cab," he said. Off we went in search of our
ride home away from the revelrous evening that brought us in contact with the
Law; even if they were off-duty.
