Swipe Right, Flip Hair: My First Date Disaster
I am a 20-something on medium, describing my dating adventures in all their details, because why not.
This, is about my very first date with someone I barely know till date, from the dating app.
So there I was, a bundle of nerves in my early twenties, eagerly awaiting my very first date. But hold on, let’s not breeze past the juicy details. How did all of this even begin?
I hopped onto the Tinder train initially, as most people do, accompanied by a friend for some lighthearted fun during a trip (because apparently, horny twenty-somethings prioritize romantic pursuits over enjoying a perfectly good trip). While my friend swiftly bid adieu to the app, I, on the other hand, stuck around (even after matching with an account named Coronavirus, pre-world chaos). Talk about foreshadowing, right?
Soon, the grapevine informed me that Bumble was the superior choice — a women-centric app where ladies take the lead. Excited to explore both my bi identity and potential romantic escapades, I signed up. However, after being professionally ghosted by someone from my own college (while I myself was in college), my heartbroken sobbing self uninstalled the app, swearing never to get onto it again.
Fast forward to a pandemic-induced bout of extreme boredom, and there I was reinstalling Bumble with a sigh.
After a seemingly endless two-hour swipe-a-thon, and a series of empty small talk filled chats, I, fueled by a desperate need for excitement, made a spontaneous decision — go on a date with the next ‘decent’ match. Enter the chosen one, or rather, the next contestant in my dating game. Their profile was sparse but hinted at being a reader, a developer, and liberal. Good enough for me, right? We exchanged a few texts and boom, we had a date set for 5 pm that very day.
Cut to me at the designated shopping complex around 4:30 pm, nerves on overdrive, regretting every life choice I’d made that afternoon. Meeting a total stranger? What was I thinking? What if I didn’t live up to my profile hype? Just as I was about to retreat back home, I, against my better judgment, decided to swing by the nearest alcohol store and chug down a few beers. Because, why not?
Arriving back on the scene feeling a tad tipsy, the date showed up just as I polished off my last bottle. Needless to say, the next couple of hours were a blur of alcohol-induced bliss. I could barely hear my date, who spoke in a volume meant for library whispers. Nodding randomly to what I assumed were some generic opinions, my tipsy self found the simplest things hilariously amusing.
“Oh, you’re a cloud developer? That’s EXTREMELY funny, hahahahaha.” Safe to say, my behavior was cringe-worthy at best.
As the alcohol started to wear off, I miraculously found my ability to listen — it was hidden under the influence of liquid courage. And that’s when my date dropped a bombshell.
“And that day, my hair flipped around just like Fleabag’s!” they proudly proclaimed. Now, call me superficial, but bear with me. Did my date, an Asian man, just compare himself to Fleabag, a white British (and my favourite) comedian/actress? There could be no justification for this. My judgmental radar went off like fireworks on New Year’s Eve. A couple of such bombshells later, I had had enough.
Trying to keep my composure, I swiftly concocted an excuse to bolt. “I’m an Asian woman; I’ve got to be home by 8 pm,” I nonchalantly declared, pretending I wasn’t contemplating a mad dash for the exit at that very moment.
To my surprise, the date seemed incredibly understanding. They agreed to part ways, but not without a cringe-worthy finale.
A hug and a movement toward my face.
Panic set in. Did they think I was harboring secret desires? I expertly pulled back, turned on my heel, and sped off on my bike, ghosting them on WhatsApp (not the coolest move, in hindsight, but desperate times call for drastic measures), after ensuring they got their coffee payment because, manners.
So, there you have it — my inaugural experience with a date from the app.
P.S. Found a few snapshots of that memorable date in my gallery, with them grinning beside my drunken self. I did have a bit of fun, I suppose. Cheers to the first date — may the next ones be less Fleabag-esque and more sitcom-worthy! 🍻
Who knew I’d have my first kiss with the second major date from the dating app world? Here is the next story: Swipe Right, First Kiss: The Michael Scott Vogue Poster Affair
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