My very first date
First dates are always a mix of fun and nervous energy. The anticipation, the awkwardness, the slowly building attraction. Some people hate first dates. I fucking love them. I feel immensely confident on a first date. But it wasn’t always this way.
My relationship with Daniela had ended a year before. I had held on that something might change with us, but I couldn’t stay stuck in a waiting game forever. I knew I had to take a step by myself. A step I’d not taken before.
I needed to install a dating app.
Bumble seemed like the right one for me. From what I understood, Bumble aimed certain features at making women feel more comfortable and empowered, it had a woman as its CEO, and seemed to be geared towards genuine connections.
One night in December, I’d finally had enough of the uncertainty. I downloaded Bumble. I had no idea what to expect, but I had the evening to myself and could take my time with it. I dutifully followed along with the tutorial as it held my hand through all the steps needed to create a profile. And soon enough, I had one ready to go. Six pictures, three prompts, one bio. That was all they would have of me.
I swiped for a bit, then sat and waited. Half an hour later, I had my first match. I talked with her for a bit and it was pleasant enough, but it seemed to go nowhere fast. She somehow asked me about something I bought at Costco and then had another half-dozen Costco-based follow-up questions, that I didn’t really care much about. I continued swiping and getting new matches, but it was all very overwhelming. I put my phone down.
I needed a little break. I had to be intentional about what I was doing. not just swipe on whoever and talk with everyone. But what did people talk about on dating apps? What was acceptable to say and what wasn’t? I didn’t want to make a faux pas and embarrass myself.
I swiped some more and matched some more, but again, nothing really went anywhere until finally, I matched with Alexis.
Alexis’s profile caught my eye instantly. Her opening image was a photo of her with serene water ebbing behind her as she sat on a dock. A small, coy smile streaked across her lips as her long brown hair with blonde highlights fell onto her shoulders, covered by her unbuttoned buffalo plaid shirt. A fake Instagram lens flare was put over it that made her look almost angelic. She looked right at the camera. Right at me. How could I say no?!
Though we matched, the power was in her hands on Bumble. She’d have to message me first, or our brief match would be lost to time. A few hours later though, she sent me a message asking how my Sunday was going.
I was in!
We started bantering back and forth right away. She was a year or two older than me and talked about how she had a big family that she loved, as we spun off into a talk about our families in general. We both played Settlers of Catan with friends, listened to true crime podcasts and she was taking some spin classes at a place in my neighbourhood. I lamented the many empty storefronts surrounding it and she asked if I lived in a house there.
“Apartment, the high rise on XXX. Top floor, woo woo! What area of the city are you in now?
“Oh wow, penthouse suite! You must have a private elevator that skips all the other floors. I’m outside the city in XXX.”
“Hahaha. Yes an exclusive elevator all to myself, but I let the rest of the building use it, I’m very generous like that.”
She was funny and quick, and we just kept talking. We shared our favourite podcasts as I remarked the actor playing Big Bird had just died.
Probably a conspiracy, we joked. Suspicious timing (was it thought?)! I was having a great time, though I told her I had to run off to a Jets game. But before I went, she did something I didn’t expect at all.
She asked me out.
“Hey do you want to get a drink? We can swap theories on Big Bird and go all in on all our true crime podcasts.”
Umm, fuck yes. We’d only been texting for a matter of hours. I didn’t have to stress about working up the courage to ask her on a date myself. I didn’t even have to navigate how to get the conversation to that point where I would start thinking about how to do that. She did it all for me! I was so grateful. And impressed.
We went about figuring out a time and place as I said:
“Also, this will make you officially date number 1 of bumble for me, so congrats. I will have to get an award ready”
“Really? I’m number one? Are you that new to bumble?”
“Lol yup this is day 2. You will set all standards, so pressures on.”
We kept talking throughout the day as we settled on meeting for a quick after-work drink the day after right at 5:00 p.m., at the King’s Head, an English-style pub and restaurant.
Monday rolled around, and I eagerly prepared for my inaugural dating app date. I picked my outfit (a nice yellow and black number from Zoo York, buttoned but with the sleeves rolled up), spritzed on some cologne (spray the air, then glide through it, as JVN from Queer Eye advised), and splashed a little of David Beckham’s signature beard oil on to complete the picture (just the right brand of off-shoot luxury I was going for). I was ready.
I walked into the King’s Head just after 5:00 p.m. to see Alexis sitting at a table already. She looked just like her photos and was wearing a sweater with her jacket still on, but peeled it off as I took a seat right across from her and said hello.
As I sat down, I thought I could see someone I recognized a few tables over. Oh god, the first date I ever go on, and someone I vaguely know is going to see me. They’ll wonder who I’m with, maybe even say something or come over. I wasn’t 100% sure it was them, and I couldn’t do anything about it, so I focused straight ahead at Alexis. Her smile was so warm with just the right hint of nervousness that I couldn’t help but smile back.
My nerves evaporated right away as we started to chat about our days. She had just gotten off work from nursing. I was recently laid off and told her about an interview I’d just had that went well. We both managed to share some of our recent work frustrations as if to justify our need for an after-work drink. Her line of work had many more one-on-one interactions, and it was clear she really cared for the people she was helping. She was a little stressed from it, but from the way she spoke, it was obvious she loved helping people. We soon got into talking about true crime podcasts, of course. She kept centering the discussion around the victims, while still being able to throw a joke in with her quick wit. I thought she was incredibly sweet and empathetic, but also very strong-willed and opinionated. I was transfixed by her right away.
We ordered another round as we talked about how some podcasts seemed more like incredible investigative journalism, while some just felt like morbid exploitation. Soon we were talking about every piece of media we enjoyed and why, hitting our favourite movies, TV shows, and music. You know, like a conversation?
More rounds of drinks came and we just kept talking. I was growing so smitten with her. She talked so confidently and intelligently. But mainly it felt like our conversation was so effortless. We were essentially just staring at each other, rattling off our thoughts on everything we could think of. Oh, and she was incredibly pretty. That may have motivated my staring, a tad.
It seemed like we just couldn’t stop. There were no pauses in our conversations, we kept hopping from topic to topic. We were ranting and laughing about each other's families and things that happened to us.
Suddenly, it started to get more personal. She asked about the relationship I had just gotten out of, and I opened up to her about what that experience was like. She similarly shared about a couple of the relationships she had been in, and how she was treated. We’d both been shaped by our difficult experiences, but neither were too jaded or negative about any of it.
Things kept getting more serious as she dug into her previous relationships. I could see her hesitating about thoughts that she wasn’t sure she wanted to share (after all, it was a first date). I decided to save her the trouble and moved the conversation along. We were back to joking around when we somehow got onto a documentary we’d both seen on the Jonestown massacre.
She started talking about how saying “drink the Kool-Aid” was a phrase people really shouldn’t use, since it had such sinister undertones of hundreds of people dying by mass murder. I told her I saw her point, but she was like, “no, really, it’s so horrible.”
And then she started to tear up.
Not heavily, just a few tears coming out. It was like she only realized she was crying a couple of seconds after it happened, and quickly began to wipe her eyes and apologize.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry, this is so stupid. Why am I crying?”
I reassured her instantly that it was completely fine. I wasn’t sure if this was pent-up emotion from something else, or her true feelings on Jonestown, but it didn’t matter. She was simply being genuine and I found it really endearing.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s fine. And you’re right, you know!”
“Who cries on a first date?” she chuckled. “God, this is so embarrassing!”
I didn’t want her to feel ashamed at all, so I just tried to not make a big deal of it. Truthfully, I didn’t find it a big deal at all. I could tell she was very sweet, and this was just more proof of it! I tried to make some dumb joke to move the “spotlight” off of her, and we laughed and changed the subject. Soon we were back to our regular banter.
“You know what?” she eventually said. “I’ve been to the King’s Head so many times and have always seen people play darts here. Let’s play some darts!”
We looked around. It wasn’t too busy, so we didn’t think it would be very annoying to the other patrons for us to get a game of darts going. I told her I’d figure it out, and confidently strode up to the bar to ask about playing darts.
The bartender brought out six darts and asked me not to lose any of them. He then pointed behind to a more secluded area with a dartboard where we could play.
I couldn’t help myself. As he handed me the darts, I motioned back to Alexis and said to the bartender, “my first date in ten years.”
“Ooohhhh!” replied the bartender. “Looks like it’s going well! Good luck.”
Alexis and I finished our drinks, ordered new ones, and started playing. We, of course, were both terrible, but we were able to get fake competitive with each other and start some flirty trash talk as we tossed dart after dart with little-to-no strategy around what we were doing. This was my element! So many opportunities to be a shameless flirt. I could throw in a playful touch after a good throw, lightly tease her about her shots, or hold my gaze in mock disbelief when I missed the board completely.
After some solid competition and heightened flirtation, I hyped up our next game as the championship for our little best-of-five games. I turned the trash talk to 11, assuring her of my impending victory. Of course, my hubris got the better of me (or was it my plan all along?) and I met my demise soon after, as she beat me by whatever made-up scoring metric we were using.
I walked close up to her and congratulated her on the victory.
“Who knew you were such a darts hustler?” I said, staring at her as I shook my head in fake disbelief.
“Yeah, who knew?” she said back, not looking away, with a satisfied grin on her face.
We held our look for a moment.
Woah.
I think I knew what that meant.
No, I definitely knew what that meant.
And one second later we were kissing right there in front of the King’s Head dartboard.
We stood there for a while, kissing softly until we finally pulled apart. I looked around. No one had seen us. It was a Monday after all. Just a cheeky kiss in a pub, our little secret.
We laughed and returned to our table and got back to talking. We were like high schoolers who knew something none of the rest of the class knew. We talked with a little less inhibition as we returned to the subject of dating. But I didn’t want to press too far. And it was getting late. Alexis looked at her phone to check the time.
“Oh my god, it’s midnight!” she said.
“What? That’s impossible!”
“No, really!” she turned her phone towards me.
There it was: just before 12:00. We were both blown away. This was supposed to be a quick after-work drink. We hadn’t even ordered food!
“We’ve been talking for SEVEN hours!”
We had completely lost track of time. We packed up our things, called it a night and both independently drove off to our homes, each stopping for McDonald’s on the way (in which I also told the girl at the drive-thru window that it was my first date in ten years. She said “great.”).
I’d go out with Alexis a couple more times, to a board game cafe, and another time to a Jets game. I could feel the vibe was off at the Jets game. Her body language just seemed less open to me than before. After the game, I asked if she wanted to come back to my place for a drink, but she declined. The next day, I got this text:
It was very on-brand for Alexis. Incredibly sweet and thoughtful, and thinking about others first. Lead me on? By going on dates with me? Come on! She was too hard on herself.
What she didn’t realize, was she had done me an incredible service. She had given me a first date back into the dating world that gave me all the confidence I needed at a time when I was coming out of my lowest moments. After our messaging back and forth and my date with her, I now had the resolve that I could do this.
I would go on many dates afterward over the next few years, and sometimes looking back through my phone now, I’ll see a name like Jennifer Bumble or Ashley Tinder and think “who was this person again?”
But I’ll never forget my very first date with Alexis.
