DIVING IN AGAIN

It’s been a month since I was dumped. Harsh verb but fits perfectly. I held my breath and hoped he’d come to his senses. I thought he’d realize that, however disappointed he’d been in me, he could express that and then rejoin me in getting us back on track. I was sure we’d been a solid two-year investment. In stock market terms, you hold on, ride through the low, have confidence in its inherent value and wait for the momentum to surge again. But he got out. A complete selloff. I had become a bad investment.

 

The stock market analogy is perfect. My dabbling has had dismal results. Same for relationships.

 

Our closure call helped me clearly see he was not going to reinvest. In the days that followed, I went back on apps for single gay men…and apparently for gay men in “open” relationships. Based on the number of faceless profiles, I wonder if their partners know it’s open. Not my business. Call me old-fashioned, but I like faces.

 

I told myself I wasn’t ready for anything anywhere on the casual-to-serious spectrum. Still in shock. Still feeling the bruises from being rejected. Too embarrassed and humiliated to even mention the breakup to friends. (But blog about it? No problem! Weird, I know. This is how this particular writer processes life.) Getting on the apps was symbolic. Must move forward. The future isn’t to be found in the past; alas, but especially not the recent past. That’s gone. He’s gone.

 

A couple years away from apps and it’s been jarring to lurk again to see what’s there…and what’s not. I’ve taken to laughing at things I’ve observed and experienced so far. Like every form of social media, people can be their worst selves online. Decorum? If I were to mention the word, the reply would be: WTF? (Actually, there wouldn’t be a question mark. I just need to see it for my own sanity. Breathe. The world is not coming to an end.)

 

When I say I’ve been laughing, I truly have and not in that meaningless LOL sense. (We seem to have phased that expression out, thankfully.) Men have devolved to boys, young teens with urges but not enough words. This is a reminder of why I never wanted to teach ninth grade. Funny. Not funny.

 

This morning I glanced at Grindr. The worst. I never ever thought I’d be there. A guy who identified himself as a swimmer had viewed me. Same age. Fit. His tags included hiking, reading, writing and travel. And his profile concluded with a refreshing remark: “Not your daddy.” I despise when gay men use daddy to describe themselves or others. That comment alone was worth sending this guy a message. The matching interests were a big bonus. So, yes, message sent.

 

What I hadn’t realized because, either I don’t understand technology or there was a glitch, was that he’d already messaged me. So we had basically first-messaged one another in parallel universes. That’s something. I might use it in a gay romance I write.

 

What I’ve already come to realize—or remember—on these apps is most message exchanges go nowhere. Example (not a real exchange): 

Hey.

 

Hi! Thanks for the message. How are you? Looks like the sun may finally come out later today.

 

Good.

 

You can guess which person I am in the sample exchange. I like words. These “teens”? As previously noted, not so much. Granted, I basically said nothing. Inane chitchat, the sort of stuff I abhor as an introvert, but I understand I shouldn’t open with my mental health history or that tragic tale about getting dumped by my ex. 

 

Good. Was he answering how he was doing or was he happy about my sunny forecast? Did it matter? Nothing to go on. Did I really have any further interest in a monosyllabic creature, albeit one with nice biceps?

 

Let me answer that monosyllabically (when in Rome…): Nah.

 

End of hypothetical exchange. 

 

Back to this morning’s not-your-daddy swimmer guy who reads/writes/hikes/travels. He stood out. His profile said he liked meeting for coffee so I’d suggested we do that. He replied immediately:

 

Yes please

 

No punctuation but at least he had manners. Wowza. (Sad, yes, but that’s all it takes to get a wowza online. I’m working on my very own little emoji for that.)

 

Ninety minutes later, we were sitting across from one another at a café in Chinatown. I walked; he took the Skytrain and then biked over. Wowza. Wowza. (Double emojis would be so useful right now.) I LOVE mass transit! I’m that geek. I actually say, “I love mass transit!” Frequently. He’s never owned a car. Kudos! And biking? I love cycling, too! Everywhere I can.

 

Because that
Valentine's Day stunt
is so last month...

Cupid was clearly messing with me. Let’s take this total sad-sack, dangle a carrot and then watch him fall again. Hysterical!

 

Attraction? Definitely! 

 

Mutual? He said so right away.

 

A clear, direct communicator. Emoji.

 

He runs his own business, working with schools and other entities throughout the world on empowering collaborative action to respond to climate change and to process mental health impacts related to it.

 

Okay, Cupid. Enough. You’ve had your fun. Now you’re just being mean.

 

There was so much more. An hour of engaging conversation. I had to work hard to keep my smile from crossing a line to goofy and/or gaga.

 

A hug goodbye. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. My turn to say, “Yes, please!” 

 

One hour. One date. That’s all. 

 

Easy. Breathe. 

 

A follow-up message pinged on my phone the moment I walked in my place. (Off Grindr, on my regular message stream, thank god!):

What a treat to meet you—I have to admit that it was just a bit surreal as you seem so very much worth getting to know. I look forward to our next coffee date.

 

Words! Meaningful ones! Emoji, emoji, emoji.

 

More messages exchanged. We’re chatting again tonight after my bike ride.

 

The sun can come out today or not. I’m already basking in something. A lovely start.

 

You better not be playing me, Cupid. But, if you are…well played. Wowza!