Love Me Tinder
I met a girl on Tinder, and we went for a coffee date. We shared some of the same music tastes, and she lets me know that one such performer is playing at a local club on Friday. I suggest we go together and do dinner before.
When Friday comes, we do a late sushi dinner and head to this club around 10 for the aforementioned show. The headliner, who we wanted to see, is supposed to go on around midnight. We get to the club, finally get to the bar and order drinks then head to the dance floor.
She pounds the drink and says that she is getting another drink. She comes back a few minutes later with a new drink, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and wanders off to the dance floor.
I am not someone who is overly possessive and figure my wanting to be in the back to get a full visual and auditory experience is not her jam.
I wasn’t worried. Then, 20 minutes later, I looked across the dance floor—and my stomach dropped. I see her grinding on some dude.
Now, mentally, I am already back at my car, but I want to see what happens when she makes eye contact with me.
They start making out, and the guy notices me eyeballing them. She then wanders off to get another drink, and the said guy comes up to me asking if I have a problem.
I explain the situation, and he says something to the extent of, “Sucks, bro, she’s with me now. Push off.” I took his advice and did just that. So, I called up a friend and went to his house, and we played Catan till about 2.
Then my phone rings. It’s 2:30am, and she is calling me asking where I went, since my car was clearly missing from the parking lot. I told her that I went home and she was on her own to find a ride.
I said something like, “I bet that guy you were making out with could give you a ride,” to which she responded with “which one.” We kissed once and made out zero times. I laughed, hung up, and rolled for more bricks.