Surprises are foolish things.

4/27/2013 The Lady 5 Comments

Like most dating gimmicks, I did not take Tinder seriously. If anything, it was merely a cure for my boredom, a simple and hassle-free solution to my currently man-less state. And just when I had deemed Tinder to be a harmless form of social media, I was bitten and thus infected with a dastardly poison. 

I had been spending quite a ridiculous amount of time liking and disliking the immediate vicinity's eligible bachelors. Naturally, I had set for myself a few ground rules:

1. Dislike anyone who has included a picture of themselves wearing one of those toolish tank tops {you know, the loosey-goosey ones which are often striped}. 

2. Dislike anyone who has included several pictures of them skiing and snowboarding. {This is nothing against skiing and snowboarding. I am sure they are great sports, but anyone who is obsessed with such activities is bound to detest yours truly. The Lady just so happens to be thoroughly un-athletic}. 

3. Like all men with beards. {Much like our dear Romantic, I have a slight weakness for a man who can prove his manliness through substantial and tasteful facial hair}. 

4. Dislike any man taking a picture of himself in the bathroom mirror in which he is hoping to perfectly encapsulate and immortalize his rippling pectorals. 

5. Dislike any and all men under the age of 22, no matter how attractive they may be. {Due to the fact that I will be 23 in just a few short weeks, I see no reason why I should be dating a younger man than myself. You may call this shallow and wishful thinking if you must}.

With my ground rules established, I liked and disliked men at my leisure. This careless and cursory activity consumed my many moments, and I kept to my rules as strictly as recently Returned Missionaries abide by the Honor Code. However, I soon made a fatal error. 

I came across a man who just struck my fancy. Dark hair, vibrant green eyes, and an adorable face. The problem was that this man was 22. A major dilemma as one of my rules had been firmly set forth, and the consequences of deliberate disregard to the rules was certain to be merciless. My Shoulder Angel and Shoulder Devil played a quick game of badminton and as so often happens my Shoulder Devil dominated the game {Shoulder Devil is quite adept at badminton}. Then I gently tapped the small heart on my screen. To my stark chagrin the unforgivable happened and we were a match. Then this man had the audacity to begin chatting with me! {The nerve!}.

Things took a turn for the worse. Tinder Man was funny, interesting, easy to talk to, and flattering. I hated him. We talked to each other for hours. We loved the same movies, we loved the same sports, we loved the same music, and we had similar family situations. He was infuriating. The first night we chatted, we were up until 3:30 in the morning. The next night was 4:30, and the next was 5:30. Loathing was all I felt for him. 

I had told him the truth about my situation: that I was graduating from BYU and moving to Arizona for graduate school just within the week {aka I will be gone from Provo forever come Monday}. This fact frustrated him greatly because we had been getting along so extraordinarily well. Deterred though no less determined, Tinder Man asked me out, and to my own shock and awe, I accepted. 

I am generally online dating's most outspoken opponent, so what I was doing was unheard of. But I did not stand Tinder Man up, although the thought crossed my mind several times throughout the day. I decided that meeting him would be perfect, as I was certain I would greatly dislike him in person as opposed to how I felt about him while I texted him. 

But blast it all, he was simply charming. He hugged me tightly and smelled so deliciously manly. I had felt a slight feeling of vindication during the first two minutes of the date because we generally did not know how to act around each other, but by minute three, we had slipped into the easy and witty conversation we had become accustomed to with one another. 

We finished eating long before we finished our date. We just sat at our table and laughed and shared stories and argued for several hours. It was perfect. 

Now I am packing my apartment with the great satisfaction of being liked by someone I find quite wonderful, and the wonder that I have met someone through an iPhone app, and the melancholy that my best date at BYU happened just a few short days before I left Provo forever. 

And if I were to give myself {or any one of you} any advice as I prepare part ways with BYU and begin adventures anew it would be this:

Plan to be surprised. 

Con Amor,
The Lady

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Ashley said...
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Anonymous said...

Nothing wrong with dating a younger guy! Especially only a year younger! That's nothing! Hope something good comes of this.

Are you going to keep in contact with him?

The Lady said...

P.S. I am going to be out of the country for a couple months (to Jane Austen land!!), therefore just out of blogging distance. I promise to let you know how things go with Mr. Darcy and I when I return.

Con Amor!

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