10 years ago, on a dating app, I met a guy. Yes, I have been using online dating for 10 years…and all of them in NYC. Not much has changed, not even the faces. Some disappear for a year or so (guilty), but we always come back and pick up right where we left off…annoyed.

Anyways, 10 years ago, on a dating app, I met a guy.  Let’s call him Tim. Tim seemed great.  He worked for a cool online magazine, lived in the East Village, and he really stood out when he opted to switch from the app to email right off the bat. YES, email…we wrote each other letters, which felt somewhat romantic.  So when it was time to meet, I really felt like I knew Tim.

He picked the place (love when this happens). It was a cool bar on NYC’s Lower East Side, the kind that even at 8pm on Tuesday they make you wait outside. He arrived first. He didn’t stand up when I got to the table, which was a minor strike.  However, as soon as I sat down, he pulled out a bag from under the table and placed it in front of me. Inside was a beautiful potted succulent. Keep in mind this was a decade ago, before succulents were trending. They were just Tim and my ‘thing’; we had emailed about them several times. It was so sweet and thoughtful.

Once we finished and we stood up to leave, I noticed that we were the same height; I’m 5’1”.  I normally like guys who are much taller than me, at least 5’10”, but things were going so great.  The romantic letters and the thoughtful gift gave me the feeling that there was something really special about Tim.  He was clearly very kind and I couldn’t let something so shallow be a deal breaker. However, I did make a mental note that when someone doesn’t include their height on their online dating profile it probably wasn’t just overlooked…

Next, he leaned in (or up? – definitely not down) for a goodnight kiss.  It was nice and I decided right then and there that I would see Tim again.  Admittedly, this was partly because of an inclination to prove to myself that physical appearance shouldn’t matter as much as what’s on the inside. - inside the bag, inside of my inbox, and inside of me.  I wanted to give it time and see if this thing could have legs, long legs, unlike our legs.

Our next date was on New Year’s Eve. I know, I know, but I’m unconventional and I didn’t have plans (a better way of saying I was going through an antisocial phase). He invited me over to his place and he cooked me dinner, which, if I remember correctly, was pumpkin soup.  Dinner was delicious, we watched the ball drop, and then I decided I wanted to get my year off right, by getting off.

I slept with Tim and I must say, it was really good, despite the fact that I was still struggling with the whole lack of physical attraction due to my issues with ‘heightism’. I completely forgot about it, but I suppose it doesn’t matter when you are horizontal and it all lines up just right. I did, however, inadvertently make a serious faux pas afterwards. He asked if I wanted a T-shirt and I responded with, “I don’t think it will fit”.  Thankfully, he pretended not to notice.

He made me breakfast in the morning and again I thought to myself, “He is a good guy.” There was no light of day weirdness. It was comfortable.  The eggs were perfectly scrambled, and the bacon was super crisp. Over OJ we decided to share embarrassing stories.

I went first, telling him about getting pantsed in the 5th grade, while standing on top of ‘the hill’ at school.  I was wearing my cheer uniform and when I was de-skirted, the entire school saw my girl parts.  It was mortifying.  I still feel sick thinking about it. The worst part was that afterwards my ‘vag’ became known as the first glimpse of a ‘real life vag’ for every 5th grade boy in my town.

Cute little story, first one that popped into my head. I was feeling so relaxed and I was proud of myself for looking passed the physical and really getting down deep to what mattered. I smiled and continued sipping my OJ.  Then it was his turn. His story went something like this, “I used to be a DJ.  I also had a girlfriend who I had been with a couple of years during this time. One night, I was late to a gig and rushing to get all of the equipment packed into the car, so I asked her to help me.  She helped, begrudgingly... Then, on our drive there, she was giving me shit, making fun of me, and calling me names like ‘butterfly catcher’ and ‘loser’.  So, I punched her in the face.”

I never saw Tim again. Sigh. They say big things come in small packages. I was surprised. Big Time.

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