Cupid Tinder Match: One Man Show
Reporting live from the murder scene of your dating hopes and dreams
Guy on Hinge: What’s up Niki
Guy: How’s this insanely disgustingly hot humid night during this crazy ass pandemic life been treating ya
Guy: You hanging in there
Me: Gotta be honest with you. Makes me wanna Murder people. With murder. I like that my phone auto capitalized murder.
Guy: Yes Niki
Guy: I now
Guy: I have gone back and forth
Guy: It’s been an incredibly awful four months
Guy: Words can’t describe some of the anger and frustration I have dealt with
Guy: Judge me if you feel the need
Guy: But if it weren’t for several dope medications
Guy: I would have lost it
Guy: I wish I could just talk to you it would make this so much easier
Guy: (phone number)
Guy: Call me
Guy: If you feel like talking for 5–10
Me: The humidity makes me wanna murder people. Can’t stand it
I honestly didn’t see the part where he mentioned the pandemic, I only saw the humidity part and my brain went into sympathy rage.
And each one of these was a separate text with it’s own “ding!” notification. For the love of GOD, stop communicating with people like this. It’s not cute or clever or whatever you might think it is. The ONLY thing it is, is annoying. You can finish your thought and THEN hit send. Promise.
Guy: Call me
Guy: We can discuss
Guy: Humidity is why Florida is the arm pit of the country
Guy: It’s disgusting
Guy: It’s horrible
Wow, zero to therapy session in three seconds. Good GOD, man. What in the hell just happened here? You’re supposed to ease someone into your mental breakdowns, not introduce yourself with them. Christ Almighty.
Want to hear something worse? I felt obligated to call him. That I’d be a Bad Person if I didn’t. I instantly started putting what I might want and need in the backseat and started putting what this psycho stranger might want and need first. Like the right proper co-dependent person I was raised to be.
Thankfully, I’m self-aware and have been doing all this crazy work on myself like some kind of asshole, saw my bad habit/old pattern and said, uh, nooooo. Homey don’t play dat.
I also flashed to calling him, him having my number, the calls never stopping despite me blocking him, and him somehow showing up at my doorstep. Trusting your gut: another neat trick I’ve been perfecting over the years after so much neglect.
Guy: Ok. Niki
Guy: Are you ready
Guy: Cause I’ve got it
Guy: What’s your Drink?
Guy: You tell me your drink right I’ve got some of the truly best kush vape oil that is even possible to get
Guy: And I’ll route give you a norco or a Xanax which ever one you think will calm down said murder spree you’d like to do
Guy: I’d even be willing to buy the bottle
Guy: The liquor store near me closes in an hour so
Guy: Ya know
Guy: Think about it
Now we’re suddenly getting together? Tonight? You don’t even know where I’m at. See, I always get bogged down in the little details like this, not being able to understand how they can just skip right over such crucial things. Crucial? Really, Niki?
I cling to the only things I can attempt to make logical sense out of. The rest of this plays out as narration as I stare into the camera at you, breaking the fourth wall.
This guy represents the kind of people who I’m convinced the vast majority of the online dating world is now made up of: those who are incapable of getting a date in the real world.
It didn’t used to be this way, I swear. 11 years ago it was a great mix of all kinds of people. But over the years, like with any reality TV series, it becomes formulaic and less quality.
Where online dating started out as a supplement to an already robust pool of dating options, it’s now just mostly where all the rejects gather to, apparently, continue getting rejected.
And, like anywhere else, it’s not all rejects. Obviously, because I’m there, as are a bunch of other swell and awesome folks. But, like anywhere else, we’re few and far between.
And this one, guys? This one sealed the deal. I’m done with online dating. And this time, I meant it. Stay tuned.