Tinder Picture

As I enjoyed my delicious, hot, lunchtime coffee at the dining room table I perused my Tinder account on the laptop. What else was I going to do, ya know? Recently unemployed for the first time in my life because of the Corona Virus, Covid-19 shutdown. The dawn of the Social Distancing Age. The Invisible Ice Age. As if this year couldn’t get worse for me. My wife had left me and moved out recently, taking our two youngsters and one pooch with her save for two or three days a week. Mentally, psychologically, and emotionally I was just coming out of the woods. The woods of despair and depression. A forest, more like it. A forest at midnight. Intimidating. Thick, brooding, unrelenting. Hostage taking. I was a hostage in a forest, unable to find a way out. No light, so to speak, to run to. For the most part, I kept my shit together. Didn’t embarrass myself every chance I got. But after seven months of stumbling and bumbling through my shell-shocked life, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to just accidently bump into ‘that new someone special’. I decided, at the tender age of fifty-five, to give the digital dating scene a try. Figuring that if I were to embarrass myself in the quest of looking for love in all the wrong places, I might as well do it secretly on the internet. Sipping my coffee, I swiped away. Swipe right if ya LIKE. Swipe left for the big NOPE. It was mainly left. Left. Left. Left. With each left swipe a note reading NOPE, printed in red and boxed in red, gets stamped (with a hint of sarcasm and authority) on the picture and the picture vanishes into the ethernet world to the left. NOPE. NOPE. Definitely NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. With so many consecutive NOPEs in a row, I began to feel the power or authority of the swipe left action. NOPE-swipe. NOPE-swipe. NOPE-swipe. As the pictures vanished to the left, I added a morbid wrinkle of cynicism to my lunchtime festivity. Making like pre-presidential, reality Tv blowhard, Donald Trump, I started barking, You’re Fired!, with each disappointing candidate. Ya fi-ard. Ya fi-ard. Ya fi-ard. Sick, I know. This Covid-19 shutdown was already getting to me, I guess, turning me into an evil swipe monster. I had to separate myself from the madness. I got up to get another cup of coffee. On my return I was going to close the Tinder window. I was even thinking of dumping it all together. It just wasn’t working for me. As I sat back down at the table, cup warming both hands, a beautiful angel flashed across the screen of my laptop. Seriously. A picture of a woman, a stunning brunette, appeared on the Tinder page and scrolled around in pageantry. It’s a Match, the picture announced in print. I instantly started liking this Tinder thing. As I said, this woman was stunning. She had a handful of pictures attached to her bio. Each picture revealing a mysterious, charming face. Some revealing freckles.

The others, freckles concealed. In every one of her pictures her eyes spoke to me. They said, I want you to put your arms around me. I want you hold me close. Embrace me. Put your head next to mine. Let the scent of my perfume and shampoo hypnotize you. I want you to kiss my cheek. My neck. I want you to kiss the freckles on my face. I want you, Michael, to kiss my lips. I looked at the pictures again. Wow. Yes, this woman spoke to me. I had swiped right on her picture earlier never thinking that she would see my picture and swipe right. But she had. She swiped right. For me! Wow. I sat paused. Excited. Instantly ‘crushed’. Most likely flushed. I had a crush on her. I did want to kiss her face. Her freckles. Cheek. I wanted to breathe in her fragrances. And hold them for a moment. For an eternity. Allow them to intoxicate me. Hypnotize me. Capture and kidnap me. I wanted to kiss her lips. Softly, with eyes closed. Kiss tenderly as I soothed the small of her back with my steadily warming hands. Palms creating an electric, magnetic friction, swirling circularly on this woman’s fine attire, pulling us closer to each other. I wanted to look in her dark, mystery-filled eyes. And gaze. Face to face, noses barely touching. Gaze, and surrender, with a reckless abandonment, the spirit of my soul to enter her through her eyes and pair off with the spirit of her soul. Then kiss her freckles again. Watch her close her eyes with an assured, relaxed comfort. Then kiss her eyes. Then her lips again, softly. Selfishly, stealing a taste of the sweetness of her tongue. Watch her eyes open with a sudden, knowing alertness of a shared increase of blood flow and a shared acceleration of heart rates. Hearts pumping industrially. Harder, stronger. Synching to unison.

Now that we were ‘matched’ we were able to correspond with each other via texting, sending gifs and music. I didn’t hesitate. Her user name was Lilly Stardust. Her age, forty-three. I was Mike, fifty-five. I typed, OMG. Hi. Are you related to Ziggy or Lady Stardust? If so, I’M IN !! She replied within the same minute typing, Just love David Bowie… We carried on a spirited text chat about music. We were clicking with a seamless flow of banter. It was nice. It was friendly. At the very least, we were going to be friends, if we weren’t that already. I was very pleased. Just from our texting, I knew she was one cool girl. (I know…woman. But she is twelve years younger than I, and I feel like a teenager again. Starting a whole new life. Filled with a new sense of innocence and vulnerability. Wide-open vulnerability. So I use ‘cool girl’ here. Sue me. I knew she was one cool, COOL, girl.) After a little back and forth of texting correspondence, Lilly Stardust asked, So where do you live? (surprise face emoji) Psyched?! HellYEAH. I didn’t want to be the creepy older guy asking her questions like that. I was being nice, gentlemanly, taking baby steps. Basically, trying not to fuck things up. So where do you live? That question showed promise. It showed she had interest. First of all, she liked my picture enough to swipe right, then enjoyed our texting enough to ask where I live. My mind disappeared into my heart, signaling the first sign of hypnotism. I recovered fast enough to respond within the minute. Glenside, Pa, I typed in, matter of factly. I didn’t ask Lilly Stardust where she lived, however. Not right away. I did want to know, but I wanted to remain cool about it. Calm. But calm I hardly was. Nervous and excited was I. Back in high school was I. It least that's what it felt like. Back in Pelham New Hampshire I was. Back in the year 1980 I was. It seems like I just met this stunning brunette at The Knights of Columbus dance. We talked (surprise face emoji). I wandered if she’d want to go to the pallet-fire party out in the woods tomorrow night. Don’t ask, I said to myself. Keep your cool, fool. Go easy on the questions, I warned myself. Be a listener. Learn about this stunning brunette, before you scare her off, I reminded myself. Stardust and I ‘matched’ and ‘met’ on Monday, March 30th, 2020. On the morning of Tuesday, the 31st, I texted, Hey, too soon to say Hi again? Her reply, Hi! Not too soon. We slipped right back into a friendly text thread communication. It was natural, responsive, and flowing. There was a comfort level there. I was beginning to really feel the ‘match’ but it was still uncharted territory for me. I wanted to hear Lilly Stardust’s voice. A voice, coupled with the face on the pictures, would change the dimensions of our conversations. Increase the gravity of our possibly, burgeoning situation. It was kinda driving me a little crazy. Wondering what her voice sounded like. Wondering what Lilly Stardust sounded like in friendly conversation. What she sounded like whispering in my ear. My crush grew. I threw caution to the wind. Brave me. On the day after we met, I texted, Would you be interested in speaking on the phone? Putting a voice to the conversations? I would…however. I’d seriously be a little nervous about it. I have symptoms of having a crush on you. And I think I’ve turned into the dorky high school version of me. So talking on the phone scares the heck out of me. Trying to imagine what your voice sounds like intrigues the hell out of me. What a dilemma. The symptoms are quite real. A crush. I just visited WebMD.com. She replied, You’re funny… but I’m down for a phone chat. Excuse my French here, but, Holy Fuck. I typed back, Funny nothing. I seriously want to phone chat also. My blushing and heart rate have to subside first. I can’t express how excited I am about this (dorky, I warned u). I’m like, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. I’m seriously blushing. I feel like I’m at the seventh grade Knights of Columbus dance. With my gold chain and disco shirt. We exchanged some more banter, I grew a pair, then texted, Okay, Lady Stardust. Let’s make a plan for the phone…(can I say Date? Or should I say Chat?) Stardust recommended, How about a chat date? Then texted her telephone number. Holy @#$%, her telephone number! It had been more than twenty years since I attained a woman’s digits. I responded thusly, Oh sweet. I know it’s a phone chat but it feels like a date in a way. I am freakin’ a little. Nervously excited. How about I call you at 8pm? This stunning woman, who swiped right for me just one day prior, assured me with her confidence and humor. She quipped, I don’t bite so no need to be nervous. Damn, I felt so good inside. I hate sounding, or saying, or typing shit so cliché, but I felt {sorry} Blessed. Okay, I already admitted that I’m a dork. Sue me again. I’m a little nervous. But excited, I concluded. You’ll see. You might have to calm me down. Hyperventilation rescue. Jus Kdn. I’ll call at 8. My nerves settled down by eight o’clock. I felt good. Happy. I was moments away from talking to a woman who had a shared interest in getting to know one another. I called and she answered with a sweet Hello. It was quite easy. I didn’t hyperventilate. Like our text communication, our telephone conversation flowed freely. Smoothly. It was friendly. It was light. I was in tune with her and she with I. That felt nice. I listened to her chat about anything and everything that she was willing to share with me. It was heartwarming to have an intimate friend again. It was our first telephone conversation but immediately it became apparent that it was intimate. Intimate, as in new friends innately trusting each other right from the get-go. When the conversation started, I was pacing the living room floor. The dining room. The kitchen. Eventually the nervousness flew out the window and comfortableness settled in. I was at ease as I moved to the couch and listened to Stardust tell me about a recent difficult situation she went through. I was at ease telling her a little bit of my recent troubling situation. We didn’t get to heavy, but we did keep it real. I understood she was a human being coming out of a dark forest herself. I sympathized. I wanted to be in her apartment when she choked up a little bit talking about the recent passing of her father. I wanted to be there and put an arm around her. I empathized for her. I thought about the hard, seven-month journey she went through without a lover putting an arm around her and pulling her in tight to his chest so she could cry into his sweater. Everybody needs that in times of grief. She kept it real. Emotional. Trusting me to listen. I thought it was beautiful, the story she was telling me. Not that her father passed away, but that she was there for him and that I could tell she loved him very, VERY much. Having a daughter myself, that really hit home with me. The woman I was talking with was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. My crush on her was growing exponentially. Our conversation flowed organically. Freely, like a wild river born instantly from an unsuspecting hurricane full of power, might, and divine intervention. By the time the sixth hour of our phone call had passed, I was in bed under the covers. Electric lights off. Candles lit. The wild river conversation was still going strong. Six hours in. Making turns left, right, circling back around, splitting off and rejoining in the distance. It was wonderful to be a part of. There weren’t any uncomfortable lulls or silences. At some point, to our amazement, our bewilderment, we realized that we had been talking to each other for over six hours. We discussed our mutual tiredness (LOL, it was two o’clock in the morning), agreed that saying ‘goodnight’ was in our best interest. So, we said ‘goodnight’ to each other. Oh, wait a sec, let me tell you about this, occurred a couple of times, meanwhile. And two hours later we actually made-good on the ‘goodnight’. It was hard hanging up. The second sign that I was hypnotized. We were on the phone for eight hours and I didn’t want to hang up. Let me repeat what I just said. Lilly Stardust and I were talking on the phone for eight, yes! eight, hours. And I didn’t want it to end there. I found it very difficult to hang up. We all went through this in high school. It felt good then. To have someone you yearned for this way. It felt good now. At friggin’ fifty-five. The last two hours of our conversation were Pg13 Rated pillow talk. It was sweet. Cute. I didn’t want to let go of that. I wanted Stardust right next to me, actually. To put my arm around. To spoon. Hold tight. To kiss. I had high hopes of meeting Lilly Stardust in person. The natural progression of online dating. Match-text-chat-meet. Unfortunately for us the Corona Virus, Covid-19 pandemic had started changing the world at an unbelievable pace. Each day the news was getting worse. Worldwide and here in The States as well. Global pandemic. Local pandemic. New York City blowing up as the epicenter of the world now. A mere two hundred miles away. Drastic increases in cases, an unfathomable increase in related deaths. Social Distancing was the only solution (for the world!), and everyone had to really take notice and comply. Lilly Stardust and I were not meeting in person any time soon. On Wednesday we texted periodically throughout the day. We closed out the day with another telephone chat date. This one, our second, only lasted a mere four hours. Flowing, sweet, and reassuring. It was a warm, endearing feeling knowing that I was liked, and maybe desired. Of course I enjoyed the whole conversation but my favorite part was our Pg13 rated pillow talk. We felt very close. I yearned for Stardust to be next to me. To look in her eyes as our heads rested on the pillows. To stroke her arm resting on her lovely, shapely body. To feel her warm, minty breath on my face and ear as we played The Whisper Game. Thursday came and it was much the same as Wednesday and Tuesday. More bad news on the pandemic. Cases increasing. Deaths increasing. Worry and concern increasing. And much the same for Stardust and I, fortunately. Pillow talk and friendly company. There was a lot of this craziness going on; the virus pandemic, the crashing economies of the world, the unemployment, my unemployment. Stardust and I, finding each other on Tinder, of all things, was a godsend. Like Tuesday and Wednesday, we texted during the day. Both of us self-quarantined separately in our own homes. Stardust, super busy working from home. Me, super busy trying to be super busy not working from home. We finished off the day with a six-hour telephone chat. No uncomfortable lulls. Just complete comfort. Inadvertently taking advantage of the self-quarantine imposed pandemic. Unable to go out and get together, let alone meet in person, we talked and talked on the phone. Really getting to know each other. A situation like no other in these current times. The way we met and exactly when we met seemed to be like our hurricane-rain driven, wild river, telephone conversations; the perfect storm of unpredictability and divine intervention. The timing of our relationship is almost incomprehensible. Forced to bond through friendly, loving, and at times emotional conversations. During an unfathomable circumstance. Covid-19. Divine Intervention? Who knows? Especially after the hardships we each endured simultaneously. Did Lilly Stardust need to meet me? Did I her? One amazing fact stood out to both of us during our Thursday night chat: We could not believe that we only met (albeit online) a few days ago. The days will march on. The uncertainty will continue. Eventually the pandemic will be defeated. Eventually the stunning brunette, Lilly Stardust, and I will meet in person. We’ll hug. Our lips will touch. And our hearts will synch. Until then, I’ll cherish getting to really know her through our texting and chatting. Until then, I’ll really cherish our Pg13 Rated pillow talk. Especially The Whisper Game as we fall asleep (seemingly) next to each other. I’m not a religious person, per se, but I do consider myself to be a very emotional individual and spiritual. I’m thankful for many things during this unbelievable time in history of the world. I’m thankful for the life I’ve lived. I’m thankful for my children, how wonderful they truly are. I’m thankful for my health and for my optimism for the future. I’m also thankful for my angel. It’s a match.