Miranda – One thing you should know about me is I’m an all or nothing kind of gal, and it’s probably a bad thing.
The Tinder game has been an uphill battle for me right from the get go. I’ve probably downloaded and deleted the app a dozen times so far in the last two years in my complete inability to find a decent man. Take it back two months ago, and I find myself yet again on the app, praying that the 12-year-old boys and the slimy fukboi’s have since left to give way to the Prince Charmings’ of the world. A couple swipes later (who am I kidding -more like hundreds) and who do I find but Mr. Starry Night.
I learn soon after that Mr. Starry Night is wonderful. He is intelligent, ambitious, and his sense of humor hits the mark. A couple days later we have a date for Friday drinks, stemming from the coincidental discovery that we were reading the same book, at the same time (Blink by Malcolm Gladwell in case you were wondering).
Monday rolls around and while bored out of my mind at work, I did something uncharacteristic and decided to reschedule the date to later that day because fuck it, I can’t wait another 5 days to find out if this man is actually a serial rapist. Surprisingly, he says yes and hours later we find ourselves at a craft beer bar having a blast over beers I can’t pronounce and mussels, the best kind of combination. Three drinks later, we’re tipsy and sloppily trying to maintain a witty banter and there, I understood that this fantastic night was coming to an end. We paid for the bill (dutch, mind you) and walked outside into the warm summer night. Just as I was about to thank him for the great date, he surprises me by saying “so, where to next?” Wait, there’s more?
Overall, it was an incredible and diverse night. We walked around in a park, I screamed like a little bitch when I saw a body laying in a dark corner, which ended up being just a homeless man taking a nap (sorry again for waking you from your slumber), and I saved a girl from her abusive boyfriend (more like distracted him enough for her to run away, but I’m still a hero). You know, just a regular first date. We ended the night lying in a field of grass, looking up at the vivid stars while he lay next to me, coughing uncontrollably every once in a while due to his recovering cold. It was very romantic and why I named him Mr. Starry Night. I could just end the story here- and call it the best first 7 hour date ever, but that wouldn’t be an accurate depiction of the sad state of my life.
Mr. Starry Night and I parted ways and within 10 minutes he texted asking to see me again. Giddy at the prospect of finally finding a decent man from Tinder no less, I then proceeded to imagine every possible outcome of this encounter. Remember- I’m all or nothing. In fact, I was so excited and nervous at this insignificantly significant part of my life that I spent the next 5 days restless and unable to sleep.
When Saturday finally came, we had yet another enjoyable date eating and watching a movie, but something felt a little bit off. Call it my spidey-senses tingling or what have you, but something had definitely changed. At the end of the date, I mustered up the courage to explore this feeling I had. Sometimes, I hate it when I’m right. After a bit of probing, I learned a few things:
- He likes me, he’d like to hang again.
- He’s not quite over his ex yet – he just came out of a long-term relationship.
- He hooked up with a girl the Thursday and Friday before we met for the second time and he’d like to see where it goes with her.
Well, that escalated quickly. What a rollercoaster of emotions. Upon hearing these stark revelations, I abruptly thanked him for the honesty and hurried home, another chapter closing behind me. We had a brief, but enjoyable stint together.
Like a star, he was there- shining bright and in the next moment, gone, as if he never existed at all. Don’t mind me -I’m not suicidal, just dramatic.