Page 32 of Tap Left
ThatGuy iseasy to talk to. The conversations with him aren’t rigged with explosive emotion. We talk about silly things. Stupid things. And he makes me laugh a lot. My decision should be simple. I think I want to meet him, but I also dread it too.
Dating is hard. And it only gets harder with age. You have to navigate through a sea of potentials who are judging you based on their first two-second impression of your face. It isn’t like before when a guy would flirt with you in a coffee shop or restaurant because he found you attractive. Now they want your handle. They want to interview you and see how compatible you are. Or if you’re cool with no strings attached, which seems to be the requisite checkbox on Tap Left. They want to see photos of your body before they decide if you’re worth their time. And the pressure is too much.
The only decent guy I’ve found so far is ThatGuy, and I’m beginning to wonder if the girl in yoga class was full of bologna when she raved about this app.
I have messages from other guys who want to connect. Damon being one of them. He is smart and handsome and successful to boot, but my gut tells me that he's not being completely honest about himself. He wanted to meet with me in a hotel due to the fact that his apartment was being renovated. And if that didn't work, he suggested we meet at my place.
No and no.
I’m exhausted already, and I haven’t even begun. The only reason I haven’t deleted the app altogether is because of ThatGuy. He has made no such sleazy propositions. And it feels safe with him knowing there's a boundary there. There is a three-week buffer before I actually need to make a decision.
Another message comes through.
ThatGuy:
It's a hell of a day at the office.
LolaB:
What do you do?
ThatGuy:
Oh, I have my fingers in all sorts of pies.
LolaB:
So you're a drug lord, basically.
ThatGuy:
Basically, yes.
Atext from Daire.
I'm thinking about you right now. Bent over my desk. We need to do that again soon, LB.
My fingers hoverover the keyboard, debating on a reply. I don't know what to say, but I can't ignore him forever. He'll know something's up. So I send him back a winking emoji. Short and sweet.
ThatGuy:
What do you do, Lola B?
LolaB:
I work in books.
ThatGuy:
Huh. Figures.
LolaB:
What's that supposed to mean?
ThatGuy:
The trifecta. I knew you were too good to be true. Funny, cute, and now smart? I can't handle it. I think I need proof.
