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Thanks Tinder!

June 17, 2015

<sarcasm>Thanks Tinder.</sarcasm>

Things were going well with Pumpkin Patch. The banter was easy. We shared a sense of humor and love of sarcasm. I did sense some hesitation on his part. He wasn’t always direct. But Friday, he invited me to his apartment for wine and Adult Swim. We had a great time and I spent the night. The sex was good. Nothing earth shattering but he was skilled and precise. He had a nice body and he was sweet and affectionate. We comfortably slept together and he made me coffee in the morning before I went home to go about my weekend of laundry, photos and cleaning.

He texted me now and again over the weekend. Then, early Sunday evening he messaged me, saying he was in the parking lot of a bar. “Why,” I asked.

“I just left a meeting with another Tinder match. It went ok. But I wanted to talk to you.”

Huh, I thought to myself.

Interesting, I both said to myself and texted him. He continued to chat with me but I was distracted. As I stood in my bedroom hanging laundry this little fact was stewing in my head. An internal argument ensued. My logical mind began, “Ok, he’s meeting other people. That’s cool. I mean, you knew he wasn’t ready to get serious. So, this is normal. This is dating, right? It’s all good. No need to be alarmed or feel bad about it.”

Then my heart flashed back to that Friday night. He had his hand in my hair and held me in his arms as I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When we were intwined in each other, I rubbed his back and he said he liked having me there, in his bed. “Yeah, this is bullshit,” my heart countered. “I don’t like it.”

His texts continued, like everything was cool but I couldn’t respond with my usual quick quips. I told him I was on the phone as I allowed weird, undefined feelings to work themselves out. My gut chimed in, “Do you really want to be one of the women he’s seeing?” it demanded. “You think you’re that girl? You think you can kiss him, have sex with him, knowing he might be doing the same thing with someone else? You think you can lie in his arms and hear his phone bling and not wonder if it’s another woman messaging him?”

“You just met him,” my brain countered. “Is it reasonable to expect exclusivity?”

“You’re not even that crazy about him,” my heart added. “He’s not Z or Mr. Moon.”

I told him I had a question for him, the next time I saw him and tried to forget about it.

The next morning, I woke up and my gut won the argument. “Oh, hell no, honey. You need to talk to this boy. You are not going to be one of his play things.”

I texted him and asked him if I could see him that evening.

“Uh-oh,” he responded.

I walked into his apartment, still in my walk clothes, sweaty and gross. I asked him for water and he invited me to sit down.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I fumbled with my words like a teenager until I finally said, “I wanted to bring this up before but I didn’t find the moment, so I’m thinking now I should probably clarify…….can you let me know if you’re dating someone else. Are you dating someone else?”

“Well, I am seeing someone who lives in Baton Rouge. So I only see her once a month. And then there’s the Tinder match I met for the first time yesterday. You’re the only person I’ve actually been on a date with.”

Huh, I thought.

“Well, I’m not sure I want to be one of the people you’re seeing.”

“Ok,” he said.

“So, can you let me know when if you’re dating someone else, so I can sort of have that option?” As the words left my mouth I knew that wasn’t going to cut it either.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said.

He convinced me to stay, offering me food and a new Adult Swim show he discovered on Hulu. I ate his pasta and told him funny stories. In my head, the whole situation was churning. By the time I got up to leave, I was convinced I wouldn’t see him again. I just couldn’t do it.

“I’ll see you later,” I said as I walked to the door.

“I don’t get a hug?” he asked.

I turned to hug him awkwardly and he kissed me, as gingerly and sweetly as ever and I put my forehead on his. I think I knew that would be our last kiss.

I walked to my car, bummed out. Another disappointment. I think the romantic in me was hoping for a different response. I think I was hoping he would see me walk in and say, “Look, I agreed to meet the Tinder match before you and I got to know each other. But I don’t want to go out with anybody else. I want to be with you. I want to see where this goes and enjoy being with you as long as I can.”

But he didn’t.

Later, he texted me asking for clarification. “Do you want to know if I’m dating or do you want to know what dating means to me?”

“I’m still figuring this all out myself,” I responded. “I just don’t think I can be one of your balls in the air.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “I like you. I like your presence. I want to keep seeing you.”

I didn’t reply until he said goodnight.

“Goodnight.” I wrote.

Since then, he’s put out feelers for conversation, but I’ve only responded with brief answers.

I just don’t want to play. And I think he’s gotten the message that I’m not available anymore.

He can find others to play with.

I’m not that girl.



So, thanks Tinder. Thanks for the match. Good job. You’re 0 for 3 now. But glad you’re helping Pumpkin Patch meet new women. Great. Just great. I think I’m going to delete your ass, you sorry little flame.


Just kidding, you know I’ll bring you back when I’m over it.


From → Rantings

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