Last night I had a dream that I was going to prom with a Tinder date. I woke up, took a Lexapro and was immediately thankful that online dating didn’t exist back when I was an 18-year-old. Sex was already way too easy to come by, and I’ve especially never had a problem finding love.
This weekend I listened to Frank Sinatra while taking a bubble bath with a guy I matched with on Tinder. Candles were lit around the bathroom and we went from zero to eight years and a baby within the span of a night. I was drunk; he doesn’t drink so I snuck and drank free champagne in the bathroom of Beauty and Essex a few times, grateful that people can’t tell how drunk I am.
I deleted Tinder after matching with him, thinking that this Elizabeth Taylor-esque Adonis was most definitely the one.
We spent the majority of the weekend together, burning incense and talking in excessive cerebral prose. He went to NYU so I guess that’s to be expected.
Last night he sent me a rulebook of the things he needs out of a partnership via text; I did my taxes.
“What do you want from us,” I read his text the following day while at Coney Island, devouring a corn dog and cheese fries. He’s vegan.
Freedom. I should have replied.
“I’m not entirely sure but I know I want to be with you. I don’t know how long, but I really like your smell,” I replied, stuffing a cheese fry into my mouth.
A few texts later and his full guidebook came along: meditation and yoga together; affection; spending time watching films and discussing them. We meditated before sex a few nights ago. My chakras were so aligned. Maybe I am the 28-year-old version of someone who could’ve gone to prom with a Tinder date.
I headed home from Coney Island and decided that completing my taxes would be a much better way to spend the afternoon than engaging in the conversation. Being punctual was never my strong suit anyway.
After completing my taxes, I finally returned to the texts:
“I’m too stressed out to discuss this. It’s giving me anxiety.”
I then turned off my phone and read Anna Karenina, much more pleased with the fictionalized version of Count Vronsky than the one I am currently dating.
Maybe everyone makes mistakes in dating and the high school version of me taking a Tinder date to the prom had more things figured out than I do now.
I just received confirmation that my taxes were approved. Things move quickly these days.