I should mention that I also had convinced myself that my (potential) husband was in Chicago. He was/is there waiting for someone just like me. He’s randomly gonna bump into me while he’s in a perfectly fitting peacoat, perfect jeans, fitted hat and Timbs. So obviously I was/am ready to get to him.
So here I am sleeping in my mom’s childhood bedroom, spending my days blowing through my “savings” on chai lattes while I apply for jobs and spending my nights watching bravo and SWIPING!
Yes… SWIPING… yes, on Tinder.
The thing about Tinder is it’s the epitome of instant gratification. And for an unemployed 20-something at the peak of her quarter life crisis anything that makes you feel wanted is worth a try.
I was so hesitant at first. It’s the internet! ONLY weirdos need the internet to find dates. Even though I didn’t feel like it at the time, I was still reminding myself that I was a smart, pretty, witty girl and I DID NOT need no damn dating app to find a man!
“Just start swiping!” said my friend that should be a tinder brand ambassador. NO! Really she’s probably gone on at least 50-60 tinder dates. “It’s fun! You have nothing to lose and plus you can’t afford to take yourself out to eat.”
With reassurance that “everyone” was swiping and the appeal of free food plus an excuse to put on makeup and real clothes was reason enough to do it.
What felt like 100,000 subpar conversations and 1 horrible awkward date later (he had on Gucci shoes and LV belt! Yuck!)
I finally matched with Handy.
Honey Never Rots