As it always goes with Tinder we met while swiping in boredom. La Actavista wore a safe but seductive smile, cat eyes, dimples and curly hair. Not kinky curly but those big loopy curls you see when women put extra effort into the occasion. Her profile was decorated with pictures of marches for “lives that matter” and “Migrant Workers Rights”. There was even a selfie with Dolores Huerta, this was a very thoughtful and insightful woman by all accounts. She contrast those profile photos with beer pong, red cups and some racy Vegas memories. So obviously there was a wild side to her. We had swiped right on each other months prior and exchanged information yet never managed to set a date. She was too busy with social meetings and shutting down freeway onramps while I was too busy working or developing an affection for a local card room/coffee shop. Aside: The things you see in a Vietnamese coffee shop on a Wednesday night are a cross between Tijuana, Vegas and episode of Taxi Cab Confessions. They are also unpublishable. Just know they involve buckets of Hennessy and Heineken, “Performance Dancers”collecting crumpled dollar bills and cigarette smoking indoors. It was during one of these Wednesday nights that I would receive a text to meet at a local Buffalo Wild for a beer and some wings. The struggle to decide if I wanted to donate to Chastity, Nikki or whatever she called herself’s college fund or attempt a connection with a Tinderella was a real one. On one hand I could sit here with a mutual grouping of degenerates and be assured a memorable evening where filth was encouraged. On the other hand I could spray myself with Axe body spray, pop a tic tac and drive towards triumph or failure. The former would offer me an expensive tease with an end result I could not and would pay for, while the latter would at least assure me a shot of a connection and potentially a walk of shame. Plus if all else failed I could drown my struggles in wings and beer during a reverse happy hour. My decision was made. I picked up my picketing signs and set off for a mutual protest against loneliness and celibacy.

As I arrived the fear of failure had been pushed out by the thoughts of drinks, conversation, casual sex and chicken wings. Maybe not in that order but they were definitely in my thought process. The parking lot was packed and full of “Bro’s”(Douchebags with biceps bigger than my head). I had forgot that it was discount Wednesday and this particular Buffalo Wild was located in the suburb of Natomas. Natomas once was a thriving portion of Sacramento, originally a community on the outskirts with a quiet local feel. In the years since (pre housing crash) it had turned into a expanding development of track homes, get rich quick Dotcommers, low income housing and both a Walmart and a Target. Real exciting stuff. Unfortunately for us, the bubble popped, development stopped and we were left with the skeleton of what should have been. All this leads me to Buffalo Wild being the single most popular place to be on a Wednesday night, full of a who’s who of the community. That’s sarcasm if you didn’t pick it up. After circling the parking lot for a spot that fit my Taurus I finally made my way inside.  A quick scan of the bar and there she was. La Activista had already started her drinking and had apparently made a new friend. Sitting next to her and engaging in what seemed like overly friendly conversation was Chuy(pronounced chewy). A younger Hispanic male, wore a lady killer smile, spoke fluent Spanish and had deep pockets. How did I know, well the Black Card was out on the bar in full display. Nice move kid, I tip my hat to you for the effort. It was becoming clear to me that my date was being stolen before I even had the opportunity to say an awkward hello.

Now what I wanted to do was go over to them and go Pan’s Labyrinth on him with a wine bottle and take my pride back. What I did do was nowhere near as drastic and somewhat submissive.  What can I say, I was still learning how to be me. I approached the happy couple and created every bit of awkward tension I could.  Introduced myself as Sergio…from Tinder and apologized for my delay. Chuy realizing the situation but not wanting to fall back swiftly apologized for any misinterpretation and offered to purchase us a round. Before I could shoot it down La Activista cashed in and seemed way to eager about it. Was there something going on that I didn’t know? This little Tinderonie was taking full advantage of what was quickly becoming a group date and abusing it to the max. So be it. Three rounds, a few stories of how we met, her latest crusade and what our new friend Chuy was doing alone at the bar later…we were allowed to start our date.

Chuy finally took a hint, gave her a half hug and wished a both a “beautiful night” and left with a smile and a shaking of his head. Finally. What the fuck had just happened? More importantly, where were my chicken wings? La Activist apologized for the situation but admitted that she wasn’t really sure about meeting or getting to know me. That’s where Chuy had come into play. See Chuy was an ex coworker of hers and they had just “randomly” run into each other tonight. He had kept her company and was advising her on this situation, providing a man’s perspective. Sounded like a bunch of malarkey to me. Chuy obviously was trying to get some butt love and cuddle time in, I’m not that naive to not notice the play. Who did she think she was talking to? So back to why I was not really that desirable. I was made aware that it was “different” talking to a man who had a child, worked a corporate job and spoke broken Spanish. So “Shooting Blanks” Chuy had less bagage , flashed a Black Card, had a degree in Ethnic Studies and owned his own home down the street was more desirable? Did I mention he was younger? She continued to explain that the kid was just fun and was nothing more than company. Hmmm, “fun”, that’s a dangerous word to decribe a person of the opposite sex. Whatever though, my wings arrived, Mango Habanero, how’s that for Ethnic Studies? We continued drinking and discussing deep topics like Social impacts of race and blah blah blah blah. By the time we both had finished our buffet of fried wings and no name tequila(Cuervo, again trying to up my Mexican for her) we both realized driving would be a mistake. “Split an Uber?” I casually tossed out. That seductive smile reared its head and agreed. “Yeah, I’m down the street. What time do you work tomorrow?” Had this night just turned in my favor? Thank the Retail Scheduling Gods that I was off.

We arrived at her condo, hit the fridge for a glass of wine and plopped on the couch. Next step was the Netflix. After a few minutes of deliberation there we were indulging in “The Wonder Years” and the episode where Kevin falls for his French teacher. We didn’t really pay attention but I recall looking up and making eye contact with Kevin’s Father as it seemed like he was judging both Kevin and I for our mistakes that evening. As if on cue I would be pushed off as La Activista bolted for the bathroom. Yup, that was happening. I sat on the couch, the Tony Romo bobble head staring at me and Joe Crocker singing The Wonder Years theme song over her LA Actavista’s gushes of vomit. Naked, afraid, drunk and fearing her pulling a choke job a la Tony Romo I did the gentlemanly thing. Put on my clothes, requested an Uber and checked on my date. She had casually walked out looked me in the eyes and asked if I was ready to get back to what we had started. Now I’ve made worse mistakes in my life and have hit further bottoms plus she had agreed to brush her teeth. Ride canceled. In the distance Tony Romo Bobble Head stared at both of us, judging with shame and disgust.

So what became of us? Absolutely nothing would become of us. We would hang out once more and repeat the scenario without the puking this time then we would drift away. There would be no responses to text messages or weekend Snap Chats. La Actavista would vanish and I would be left with a memory and the realization of what had happened. The missed connection would bother me but not hinder my spirits. Fuck it, it was a hell of an experience and not a bad Wednesday, all things considered. What would bother me and throw a curveball into the entire situation was a month or so later. I would be out with a friend of mine at Dive Bar( Swanky place that wanted to be LA but was stuck in Sacramento) the same bar with the Mermaid in it. It was there that I would run into La Activista, her roommates and boyfriend of three years. How was this verified? Facebook and Instagram post celebrating their anniversary with quotes like “Through everything you’ve held me down” and shit like that. Yup, I had been used on Tinder and was simply a dick during a time where “she was going through a lot, a lot of dick.” I wonder if there were others out there that she had taken down just like me? Was there a support group for this kind of situation or an establishment that would help me protest this kind of behavior? No, no there wasn’t at all. On top of this the real kicker? The boyfriend, well his name was Chuy. Yes that Chuy.