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 — one of Elizabeth Taylor’s grandsons. True story. 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 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.
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