Disclaimer: This is the second half of my date with an ex I found on Tinder. Feel free to read the prior entry or take this as a standalone piece.

We sat there emotionless and sharing awkward conversations. Sheri was two and a half Long Islands in to my half a beer. This girl wasn’t playing tonight. Whoever had brought out the resting bitch face in her must have been important. The Ex maybe? I wasn’t about to ask and open that box of crazy, her texting war was doing more than an ample job.  Sheri was always a laid-back and easy-going woman, at least from what I recalled. Never one to ignore company or allow her emotions to burst from her pores like tonight, something was off. We exchanged some more small talk and caught up on one and others lives. She was still slaving away at a dead-end office. Her traveling goals had stopped at Vegas, Cancun and Los Angeles. She had attempted to purchase a home but her ex sold her on the idea of moving in to his flat in Midtown Sacramento. It’ll be fun he said, they would share their lives together and begin building towards the future. What he had failed to mention was that he had earned himself a 523 FICO and was in debit from DUI one and two. Never mind the gambling habit. None of that had stopped her though, he loved her and they’d find a way to make it work. Fast forward past some broken dreams and empty promises later and here we were. Thanks Guy, you really set me up for success! Lucky me. Waitress please pour me another drink.  This was going south fast.

After exchanging some pleasantries and fond memories, fond for me at least, we began to dig little deeper into our respected past.  She was surprised to find that I had been single and on Tinder. I delivered a white lie and explained that I was relatively new to it and was just trying to meet new people. My mouth must have smelled like a septic tank because we both knew there was some serious bullshit flowing. Sheri stated she had chosen to try Tinder after finding out Mr. Hot Shot was using it as a way to play Big Spoon with some Tinderellas. She was broken and admitted to feeling lost and depressed. She had given this man some of her prime years, lost friends and dented family relationships and it was all for nothing.  Like an ice cream cone withering in the sun she was feeling the pressure of that biological clock. The ticking would grow louder by the day. Now I by no means find myself old at 30 but it’s obvious to me that the line of thinking isn’t a two-way street. I’ve never understood the desire to meet, enter into a legal contract and reproduce. What happens when things go sideways? How is it fair for a man or woman to fork over 50% of what they’ve earned because their partner negated on the contract? Maybe this is why i’m still single. But I digress.

She was really opening up and venting.  She admitted to me about their final fight. Yes she had still taken him back after multiple indiscretions and wanted to work things out. “I just thought that he could change. I wanted to fix him.” Ladies, there’s no fixing us. Please don’t repeat my friend’s mistakes and have some self-respect. During the afore-mentioned final fight Mr. Hot Shot admitted to also seeing the “Mother of his Son” and wanted to work things out with her. Like that Shameful Sheri was being cast aside and put out to pasture. One smashed windshield and a bleach bath to his closet later she was packing and on her way out. Perfectly said response right? Initially lost and depressed she would learn to crawl and walk again. Sheri had explained to me that she had joined the Tinder Nation as a way of getting back at Mr. Hot Shot. She wanted to experience casual and meaningless sex. She wanted to see how this could be better than waking up next to her and her morning breath each day. In a sick way she was living his sexual fantasy to fulfill a void. I could see the tears begin to form as the memories were rushing back. How had I become Dr. Phil? This was Hindenburg all over again. She would excuse herself to restroom and I would continue to eat alone and order another Sake Bomb. Somewhere out there my Guardian Angel was slacking, guy must have been on the couch smoking some dust.

Sheri had been gone at least 10 minutes and was either passing a massive stool or was projectile vomiting all over the stall. Please tell me it was the former. Five more minutes passed, had this chick snuck out on me? That’s exactly what I needed for my ego. Some wandering thoughts later Sheri reappeared, a different woman this time. She was extremely chatting, wide-eyed and going 100 miles a min. From Debbie Downer to Charlie Sheen in one bathroom trip? Had my date just railed two lines of Starbucks Espresso Black? I wasn’t about to make any accusations and took the date as it was. We continued to drink and stepped out for a smoke. It took a few aggressive sniffles for me to understand what was going on. This woman was clearly “walking on the moon” right now. Of course this would happen, of course I would be spending my night at dinner with a junky. I’m not one to judge, we all have our vices and nobody’s perfect but come on now. Was it really that bad that you had to shove a rock up your nose in order to get through dinner and conversation with me? At least that explained why she hadn’t touched her meal. I had to remind myself to get that boxed up for tomorrow. Couldn’t let the chef’s work go to waste. We would go back to our table and attempt to communicate once more. I would ask some probing questions about what she was looking for and why we were out tonight. She would side step the questions and begin to rant about how much she hated her Ex and I would nod and agree. This would be my Friday night. This is why Exes are Exes. Sensing the train wreck and trying to throw a Hail Mary I suggested we pay the tab and head out back to my place or another bar for some drinks. She immediately shot me down and proceeded to chastise me for even suggesting. I’d had it with this shit and was ready to give this slut muffin the cold truth she deserved. Who was this Blow Head to judge me? Never the one to hold back I would ask if she realized who she’d become. I casually addressed that nobody really takes a party girl seriously and that it wouldn’t be the best idea to be a 30 plus year old woman with a consistent sinus infection. Like an agitated father I would express my disdain and disgust for who she was currently. Tears. Mucus. A quick glass of water to my face later and that would be our evening. I should have swiped left on this one. I should have left the ghost in the past. I made eye contact with our waitress. She put on her Hurt Locker suit, brought the check and helped me get this ticking time bomb out.

What would become of Sheri? I hear she doesn’t go out as much. I also hear she’s met Mr.  Right and they’re planning on moving in together. I also saw that they made it to Europe and China. Congratulations to the both of them and I wish them both the best. What did I learn? Never go out with an Ex on Tinder that has a fondness for the Devil’s Dandruff and a drinking problem. Seriously though, we meet people and for a moment in time everything makes sense. We grow and better ourselves. Some of us grow together and others grow apart. There’s nothing wrong with either, it’s one of those fun facts of life. In the end we must learn from our time together as we are only afforded so much of it. We must use that knowledge to enjoy and respect future relationships we may entertain. The problem comes when we refuse to acknowledge a toxic situation and attempt to salvage or revisit. Always good in theory but terrible in practice. Remember they’re exes for a reason. Happy swiping and remember nobody likes a resting bitch face at dinner.