For many single adults out there today, there’s an app called Tinder. The “straight” version of Grinder, Tinder is an application where you simply swipe left or right on someone’s photo. It’s a simple little game you might say and it’s highly addictive. Only a few weeks ago did I write about throwing in the towel on dating. I guess that’s the beauty of bipolar. Your emotions escalate and drop and you make decisions based on your moods. And when your moods go up again, well they may, in fact, change.
I have met some great people through this app in the last year and a half of being single. The sweatshirt I am wearing at this moment actually was created by a buddy of mine who I met on a date over a year ago. The date went nowhere and we went on another date maybe six months later, but we have remained business colleagues and friends. His business makes money off of me now.
My first Tinder experience was interesting. We met, had great chemistry, a few dates later had sex, and I began to take an interest in him. Until I found out that a girlfriend I knew for a very long time had a date planned with him. He told me I was being childish and unflattering when I told him my thoughts. She still went on the date and slept with him. He left her like trash. Girls suck. Guys are dogs. I learned that quickly.
Then there has only been one real dating experience through Tinder I should say that lasted for a few weeks and that was about one year ago. Let’s name him Bob. I swiped right on Bob and we matched. There was instant chemistry over the phone calls we had and he was from my area (Philadelphia/South Jersey). We had a mutual friend and she even vouched for him. Bob came to meet me after one of my shows and instantly grew a crush on me, or so he says. The first night we hung out, we slept together. Definitely not a good thing on either of our parts, but we are both adults. The casual dating began to turn into something more. It had only been about six months or so since I split with my ex-boyfriend Steve. My heart wasn’t quite ready, but my vagina definitely was. We met each others’ best friends, I hung with him on his birthday, and he even spent the night at my house (which usually doesn’t happen with guys I am not interested in). Things were going great until I made a dinner reservation for him at a restaurant he has always wanted to go to but had never been. He told me I was too nice and he wasn’t ready for a relationship. He became cold towards me. To this day, I’m pretty sure he met another girl on Tinder and was more into her, but that I will never know. Months go by and he dials me up about a month or so ago. I go to his place, we hook up, and something didn’t feel right. The next day I go onto his Instagram page and he has a serious girlfriend. And it looks as though they met right around the time I originally met him. Wow, my instincts were right. Thank you universe for protecting me. He would have been cheating on me if I was his girlfriend now. I’ll be happy if I never speak to Bob or see him ever again.
Two weeks ago I decided to dust off my Tinder app and do some swipes. I have been on dates here and there, but nothing that has truly sparked my interest. I have met a really great guy, but the monologuing type. I am not quite sure if he is into me or if he is into himself more. Another guy I refuse to meet up with because well, the first few messages we had between each other he sent me almost a full body nude. The third guy, well it has been just fantastic. But I refuse to count my chickens before they hatch. So I won’t say much about him. However, I will say a little about the evening I met him.
I’m working, having a busy day as usual and I meet up with an old friend. When I say old friend, he’s someone who knows my SHIT. We spent some time in the loony bin together back in late 2012 and I can appreciate his craziness. There are two people I have kept in contact with from mental institutions (and I’ve been in quite a few over the years). And he is one of them. We caught up since we hadn’t seen each other in a while. He said he lost my pilates mat somehow between his move and owed me some drinks. I ate a few appetizers since it’s Sober February. I felt bad leaving him to go on a date with someone he actually knew (the third Tinder date is a buddy of his), but it felt so good to be myself with someone. For a couple of hours we talked, laughed, and busted each others’ balls with sarcasm. He encouraged me to go on my dreaded date since he knew the guy was good peoples. So I did.
I get into my car, drive to my neighborhood and walk into my date. Right away, I think of what my friend just told me (he couldn’t see us together) and he was right. But I’m not trying to judge a book by its cover so I continue to walk over to the man smiling at me with a ridiculously hipster-looking mustache. Two hours into the conversation and neither of us have barely touched our drinks, I am smitten. This was the best conversation I have had with someone in years. He gets me. The fact that he did Peace Corps (I work for an adult education nonprofit catering to low-income immigrants), loves music and is knowledgeable about it (I’m a musician), hippie (i’m a fire spinner, nuff said), has been through some shit (no comment necessary), the list goes on and on.. We were so open and honest with each other, I even admitted my favorite movie to him–Howard the Duck. Oddly enough, he knew it and loved it the same. Our date was longer than six hours and ended with a wonderful kiss (even though I had no idea of what to do about his mustache) and some amazing hugs.
I’ll keep you up-to-date with how it all turns out. But to be honest, I’m not expecting anything from it. What I do know, is he is one of those people that if I do mention my disease to, wouldn’t be too bothered by it. And that feels nice.