I'm no stranger to swiping left.
If you're single and online - you can certainly appreciate the workout my thumb gets from the consistent left swipe.
In other words, my iPhone is saying, "No thank you Bumble - keep 'em coming!"
It was January. I had just finished a month of coaching my family members on their New Year strategy towards weight loss and I took it upon myself to lead the charge. Daily tips and weekly weigh-ins kept us all on point and as a collective, we lost over 20 pounds in a month! I was thrilled and so was my family. It just goes to show that when you have support, you can really achieve anything!
What was perfect about this weight loss family experiment is that I was primed and ready to jump into the dating scene with my new svelte physic.
And, so I swiped right.
A few texts and conversations later - our first date was planned. He picked the place. (Please note: all single men reading this...if you want to make an impact, don't be wishy-washy and make the girl pick the place. Man up, and take the lead.) There's something sexy when a guy takes charge, makes the reservation and tells me where to meet him.
We met in NYC. I arrived first. Yes, if you're Type-A and a strong independent female, this is a strategy. He may have made the reservation, but I'm still in charge. I assessed the space. He did good. It was a cozy, warm and popular wine bar. Every where you walked you bumped up slightly against the next person. As if the universe was conspiring with me, two seats (the only seats) opened up next to each other. Like a hawk bearing down on its prey, I snagged them. A beautiful Cabernet in hand, I awaited his arrival.
Bumble did good this cold January evening.
He walked in - tall, dark and handsome. I had to rub my eyes (not really as I would have ruined my lashes) to make sure I wasn't witnessing a mirage in the middle of winter in New York City. This is a rare experience in online dating. Inevitably, they are shorter than they claim, exceptionally late or eat with their mouth open to name a few. We were off to a good start. He pulled my chair a little closer to his, our knees touching & a warm quiver shot up my back.
The night seemed magical.
Our wine bar appertivo came to an end, but we weren't ready to call it quits. The night was so cold. We put our coats back on and he grabbed my hand. My heart jumped out of my chest at the feeling of having his hand in mine. We walked out the door and the sound of salsa music seduced us down the street. He was Spanish. He looked at me and asked, "Do you like to dance?" Shivering as the cold wind whipped through my coat, I looked at him smiling..."Clearly, you don't know anything about me yet. Let's dance." Hand in hand, we moved inside and to the bar to grab a margarita. At this point in the night, the tables were being moved out of the way to turn the restaurant into a salsa bar. That's right, couples whirling each other around as if "Dancing with the Stars" was being filmed right in front of us. I channeled my inner J-Lo and we joined them. Moving across the dance floor as if we've been doing this for a lifetime, the music moved us together, yet as one. My college Professor had nothing on the chemistry lesson we were teaching that night.
It was late and he politely offered to drive me home. "Wait. You want to drive me back to New Jersey?" For those of you in this area, you know that commuting through a tunnel is like offering to drive cross-country. Another point for this Bumble date! Not to mention, I was happy to spend the extra time with him. We arrived at home and said our good nights as we sat in his Beemer. I was so ready. He leaned in for the kiss.
Ladies are you with me? This is the point where you determine, what the future potential looks like for you and your new man. After the night we had, the expectation was high that cupid's arrow would take me out - right in the ticker! I was not prepared for what happened.
It was as if a full on excavation was being done to my throat, but I didn't know anything was buried down there. Not only was his tongue on a hunt to remove my tonsils, but every attempt I made to 'train' him on the proper way to kiss was quickly dismissed by a lick of my face.
That's the thing about dating at 44, I'm retired from the training business. If you can't kiss, I'm out.
Covid paused my dating life back in March, but as I recount this story, my tonsils are grateful for the time I have to focus on myself. Although, I have to admit (or maybe it's the wine) - I could use a good excavation right about now.