I had a conversation with myself that went something like this:
“So you moved back to LA?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re moving back after you left there, after you were living alone, kinda depressed, and unhappy, and after all your friends said you should stay in Colorado?”
“Yeah, basically.”
“And after being in Colorado for two months, you were happy and surrounded by a good group of friends.”
“Correct.”
“And now you’re, like, living alone, back in L.A.?”
“Mhmm. Didn’t seem like there was really a question there, but yep.”
“And you think that’s a good idea?”
“Apparently, I do.”
After moving back here, after much pressure from friends, I finally downloaded Hinge. I felt dirty doing it. I don’t know why. But it turns out it’s pretty fun. In fact, I’m downright addicted to it. I think I’ve averaged about five hours of sleep for the last week chatting with all sorts of people. I’m hoping it’s a new-and-shiny type thing, rather than a permanent personality change. I guess we’ll see.
There are two people with who I’ve really felt any sort of connection on the app. One is a 29-year-old graduate student who apparently didn’t read that I was a bit younger than her over the past week. (“You graduated in 2019??”) She and I just planned a doggy walk date where I guess I’m going to drive to Irvine and walk around the block with her and her dog—I assume dinner or some other food, too. (Oh God, who pays?) The other person I’ve connected with is a 23-year-old graduate student, studying urban planning. She’s also a waitress who used to be a barista and successfully convinced me to buy my first pumpkin anything bullshit. Specifically, it was an iced chai latte with pumpkin cream. I memorized the order before stepping foot into the store so I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of the barista—like that makes any fucking sense. So under a gray sky, I walked to Starbucks from work this morning and gave her live updates as it all went down.
Me:
7:53 a.m.—I hope you’re still sleeping but here are live updates: just walked into Starbucks.
7:53 a.m.—Line is utterly ridiculous.
8:02 a.m.—Just ordered.
8:11 a.m.—Okay it finally came. Is it weird that I’m nervous?
8:12 a.m.—You know I was pretty skeptical I’d like it but goddamn this is good
Her:
8:12 a.m.—HAHAH
8:12 a.m.—good morning
8:12 a.m.—I told you
8:12 a.m.—U owe me
My paper heart crumpled and uncrumpled during that exchange. I’m planning on asking her on a date; I’m not sure what it’ll be yet—a walk? a picnic? I was hoping to surprise her with a gift at the end, where I say close your eyes and hold out your hands. Then I’ll just put a full-sized pumpkin in them. The second date (I hope) will be carving jack-o-lanterns.
I hope this feeling lasts.