So how does one end up on Tinder? I was introduced to the app about a year and a half ago by a friend that used it in Europe. He explained it to me as a way of meeting people that were in the area and looking to meet up. Sounds innocent enough to a guy looking for some companionship and new connections, remember, I’m in the “hotbed” of Sacramento. It wasn’t like I was in a relationship or pulling dates left and right so why not give it a shot. It’ll be fun I said, nothing bad could come of this right? It’s not online dating OBVIOUSLY because it’s an app in my phone.

It took one swipe to the right while parked at the local Foods Co in a real lady-killer of a car, my 2000 Ford Taurus. Waiting for my previously mentioned comrade, I had been on Tinder for less than an hour when I came across 24 year old Shelby, single and no kids, Giants fan, beer aficionado and into “no drama”. We messaged back and forth over the next few days and got to know each other. Talked about food-porn, the Giants, our dating history and the obligatory “what are you on here for”. Even exchanged Instagram’s (a very serious move) to prove we weren’t robots or murderers. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, sounds crazy right? Getting to know somebody through messaging and emojis. Enjoying resources my dad would only dream of to meet lady friends. Anyways, I had asked her for her number but was met with resistance so we left it to messaging. No worries, this was obviously somebody that played it safe. We agreed to a date at my neighborhood bar The Virgin Sturgeon. The drinks are cheap and strong, the service amazing and Mark the bartender has always been an honest face with advice when needed. A real locals only bar and somewhat of a safe haven for me.

I recall being nervous and slightly excited with the idea of meeting this stranger, nonetheless I sat at the bar feeling rather dapper. I had borrowed a friends button up shirt and wore some elf-like brown dress shoes. Got my haircut and even wore a dab of cologne, also borrowed. Dare I say I was at my most presentable. My mind wondered around, could this be a good fit? What topics of conversation would she be interested in? I had read up on first date etiquette and was practicing the do’s and don’ts. If everything went well then what? What would date two be? Would she like me or would she feel catfished? Was there a secret Tinder review site where I’d be exposed as a fraud of some sort? God, I was becoming a mess. I decided to have my Walker Black neat just to ease the nerves. I was 15 minutes early and didn’t want her to see me with the jitters. As I waited and sipped I began going through my phone and swiping through Tinder. This of course at a time where you had unlimited swipes and access to all the dirt you could imagine. Those 15 minutes came, went and turned into 30. Figured she was running late, no big deal. I continued to swipe, made a couple of matches, which turned out to be a rather bad move but more on that later. After my second drink It started to become painfully clear that I was being stood up. I felt like a jackass and I was sure the other people at the bar knew something was up. I could feel them looking over, judging me, mocking me and thanking their spouse for never exposing them to the horrors of online dating. Nevermind them, it was just my nerves showing. I decided to sack up and go into my phone. I went into our message thread and find out what was going on. Bad move, when I scrolled down I could no longer see her profile or access our messages. It had to be Tinder malfunctioning, I closed their app and opened it up again. Nope, no luck, Shelby had deleted her application or better yet blocked me out. What could I have done to cause this? I did everything I could not to come off as a douche or desperate. At least I thought so anyways, I was myself and hell, I thought I’d done pretty damn well prepping for this. I’ll never know for sure what caused it but that’s how it goes sometimes. Lesson learned, never get your hopes up on Tinder and if she’s not giving you the phone number there may be an issue. Fuck you Tinder and Shelby. I was done with this crap.

Three drinks after being stood up on a Wednesday and some open conversation with Mark, my bartender, I was back to swiping and messaging, a dangerous thing my fellow Tinderites, but it was this combo that led me to salvage some of my night by going back and forth with Cassandra from Midtown. Good flow, good banter, not “too crazy,” and some attractive face pics. Discovered we both loved baseball and she was a foodie as much as myself. Former softball player, catcher, had a mouth like a sailor and was living that downtown life. We exchanged numbers fairly quickly (see I learned) and set a date for tomorrow after work. Happy hour, what could go wrong at Happy Hour? All in all not a bad 1st Tinder date, yeah I was stood up, blocked and got drunk alone but I had linked with this new Tinderonie and salvaged my night. Who knew what this next date would bring? She seemed just as eager to meet as I did, maybe we’d hit it off and go from there. As for Shelby, would I ever tell anyone what really happened, no. I’d go on to say we met up, had conversation, she wasn’t what I was looking for and scheduled a second date that never worked out. Had to save face some way.