Earlier this year, when I still had faith in dating apps, I went out with a guy who was a self-proclaimed Disney addict—which is a quality in a person that I have never understood. I should have known right then and there that this date was doomed to fail, but alas—me and my open mind.
The story of us was short and awkward, and a bit too saccharine for my taste: in a message, he asked what it was that drew me to him, what made me ‘like’ him. In other words: why was he so alluring? Why did I shoot him a shot, and shoot him my heart?
Truthfully, I was as shocked as he was that we had matched. I didn’t remember liking him at all, and was sure I had accidently swiped on him in my early days of figuring out the app. I dreaded telling him this. Anyone who has used dating apps surely knows how finicky they can be with the swiping.
Yet, I did tell him, gently as I could, because I thought to myself, “who wants a relationship built on lies?!” And when I told him, he thought it was hilarious.
Actually, I don’t think he really believed me, because on our date he gave me a bag of homemade popcorn in a brown bag, addressed to: “Popcorn lover Michelle,” and from: “accidentally super liked but not your dream guy.” I laughed and cringed all at once.
That was the nail to the coffin of my online dating era, and what left me wondering if Luna the cat might be my one and only soul mate. Laugh if you must; she has outlasted them all.
Thank God for cats, and for bad first dates. I pray for fewer and fewer of them. (The dates, that is. The cats can stay.)