I never thought I’d see the day where I would go out on a Tinder date. I mean the whole concept of Tinder is creepy and just straight-up superficial. I value myself in being that person from the movie who falls in love with the chubby guy with the great personality and cargo shorts. I mean abs are so 2006 anyways. Just thinking about going through a catalog of available man-meat and swiping right or left depending on attractiveness sends shivers down my spine.
But I guess I’m here, getting ready to meet Tom for the first time. A lot is going through my head.
- Is this dress too slutty?
- What if it’s not slutty enough? What I’m I? A nun?
- What if instead of the 32-year old cat lover from Cincinnati, I get two dwarves in an overcoat trying to see what it is like to have sex with a regular person?
Ok, I totally stole that from an episode of Family Guy. Wait, hold on, what if he doesn’t like Family Guy? OH MY GOD! I would straight up stand up and leave. I may be over-thinking this. Dammit, stupid Karen!
Karen is my best friend. She is the funniest, most wildly-inappropriate friend I’ve ever had. In high school her name became a verb. She was once caught in the janitor’s supply closet giving a blowjob to what we later found out to be a very tall 15-year old. So ever since then, when referring to giving head, people would say “pulling a Karen.” (Sidenote: why is it called “giving head?” I mean, I know the top part of the penis is called head, and rightfully so, but why do people refer to this as an act of giving? If anything, the giver is “taking from head.” Gross, I’m sorry). See, any other girl would’ve been devastated. Some would even ask to switch schools and start dressing like a member from My Chemical Romance, but not Karen. That whore took it as a compliment. Bitch would strut around the hallways owning her newly over-sexified persona. Guys wanted to be with her, girls wanted to be her, and I got to be her best friend. I know this sounds like the plot of a typical high school movie. But let me reassure you, no, the hot quarterback did not ask me to prom, he asked her. And no, I didn’t became popular just by taking off my glasses and untying my hair, revealing my beauty to the world. In fact, people would just know me as Karen’s friend.
“Hey dude, do you know Brenda?”- Douchey student asked.
“Nah man, is she hot?”- Dumb student responded.
“Ummm… Kinda. She is that girl that hangs out with Karen.”- the douche asserted.
“BJ Karen? Oh, yeah I know the girl that hangs out with her. Why, did she die?”- Dumbass concluded.
This was basically every conversation about me in high school. But enough about my high school invisibility cloak, back to the future. Karen signed me up for Tinder after she said, and I quote, “my sad life was bringing her down, therefore, ruining her game.” Like I said, Tinder was never my idea of getting back out there, but just based on the amount of scented candles and pet-charity donations I’ve made online this year, I think she has a point.
So I was not only swiping left or right based on appearance. I would always read their bio and look at all of the pictures, I figured that was the morally-right thing to do. But let’s face it, bringing morality to Tinder is like bringing enchiladas to a Donald Trump potluck. It just doesn’t belong there. Anyways, swiping left always made me feel bad. It affected me to the point where I was swiping right to everyone just to not hurt their feelings. Once I reached 200 matches, I decided it was time to start getting a bit more selective. Tom was the first guy who really grabbed my attention. He was a good looking, yet approachable guy who smiled on all his 5 pictures. His bio read:
“I don’t know how to use this but my office mates thought it would be a good idea. Hope you are having a great day! Swipe right to get to know each other. By each other I mean you, myself, and my cat Mr. Wiggles”
It was so adorably lame! I love cats, mild-mannered adults with cheesy smiles, and lame bios and pickups, so what could go wrong here? Swipe right, and what do you know? IT’S A MATCH! This was the first time a match made me giggle like a school girl. Within about 20 minutes, I got a message from Tom:
“Hello! Thanks for swiping right and inherently becoming my match! My name is Tom, I hope we get to know each other. Hope you have a good one!”
So. Freaking. Nice
After that, we started messaging and getting to know each other. He charmed my socks off. Literally, one day I forgot to put on socks because I was laughing at a stupid cat meme he sent me. We had been talking for about 2 weeks and he finally asked me out. He chose my favorite restaurant as our first date. “Blassiago” was an Italian restaurant that started as a hip spot for trendy city people and then transformed into a “boring-early-30’s-friends-and-elderly-couples” kind of a spot. So it was perfect. I wore a black dress that could either be described as a trendy, age-appropriate dress for a woman or the dress that the sluttiest girl from a catholic school would wear to prom, depending on your views.
I arrived about five minutes early and there he was, cheesy grin and all. Dinner went by so unbelievable smoothly, that I couldn’t help but anticipate something big and bad to happen next. He was charming and talked about the movie I am so interested in watching without giving out any spoilers. I talked about the time I fell offstage in front of a women’s conference. (This is probably the funniest story in my repertoire. Dammit! I should’ve used it to close. It’s all going downhill from here!). The conversation kept going as if we had known each other for years. The only flaw I saw was that he picked up the check so quickly that I couldn’t even see how much it was. As a feminist, I would’ve at least liked to have the choice of being able to pay for myself. #whitepeopleproblems
As we walked out of the restaurant with our doggy bags, he asked to take me to my car since I parked a bit far. He was driving a nice, jet-black BMW. It is not that I care about wealth, but this was my dad’s favorite car brand and it felt like a sign. He opened my door and took me to my car. We hugged, said our goodbyes, and we never saw each other again.
That’s right! I never contacted that son-of-a-bitch in my life. As a matter of fact, as I got into my car, I blocked his ass and deleted my Tinder account for good. I mean he had a Nickelback CD. A. FREAKING. NICKELBACK. CD. I’ve never been so disappointed in my life. I decided online dating was not for me. At least in real-life dating what you see is what you get. Not this shameful virtual reality where even the nicest guys have a… I’m sorry, I can’t even say this without tearing up… freaking Nickelback CD!
If you are still wondering, Karen and I are still friends. Maybe not best friends, but still friends nonetheless. I mean I know Karen didn’t have anything to do with the Nickelback incident, but still, it was because of her I had to deal with it. I decided to write my story as a public service announcement, if you will. If this was a video, this would be the moment where I would tearfully look at the camera and say:
Please be careful when online dating. Even the nicest people can have the darkest secrets. Value yourself, and know when to swipe left.
Camera fades to black.