“I have something I want to show you.” He said in my ear, frankly a little too close.
We had just met in Pulley’s Diner after a few days of chatting on Tinder. He was cute, and I was lonely — and so I found myself here.
As we walked outside, he started walking toward Benton Hall. I followed, assuming his dorm was on the north quad. It was only then, when he hung a sharp left under the arch, did I realize the situation.
“God I love the stars,” he said, now three or four steps ahead of me, “They remind me about how special life is, and how special the people in our lives are.”
“Yeah,” I said, slowing my pace down, “so many wonderful friends who come and go at a moments notice.”
“And then there are those ones that you stay with forever.”
I should have known it was going to go somewhat like this.
He was always a little forward.
He said “I love you” fifteen messages in and asked for my address before my phone number. His bio was “Trying to find the Romeo to my Juliet. No hook ups, I’m looking for the one ;).”
Which really isn’t what you’re looking for on a Tinder date — though it does add clarity to his ability to fall in love with someone he doesn't even really know.
One time, he sent me a screenshot of his horoscope online, and I could see that his other tab was on a website titled, “How to measure ring finger size withou…”
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Maybe I missed a lot.
“Like family and pets, and like, strong platonic companions.” I said during our date, trying to be as obvious as possible that I was not on his wavelength.
“I guess so. Tell me, do you think you can fit your finger through this loop?” he said, holding a string out to me
I booked it.
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