L.A. Affairs: What began as Tinder moments turned to ashes after Burning Man
I lasted approximately 14 hours on Tinder. I’d held off signing up for the app mostly out of sheer defiance. Only desperate people looking for a quick one-night stand resort to location-based apps … right? But I decided to chance it anyway.
I found someone I thought was cute and tall enough, and right-swiped him. We were matched right away, but I stubbornly refused to initiate contact. About an hour later he wrote, “How do you feel about Nutella?”
He must be my soul mate.
I replied that I was a big fan, which prompted him to suggest some nontraditional uses for Nutella that would make your Great-aunt Edna blush. Oh.
Then he said he lived in Culver City and asked if I wanted to meet up right away. Well, no. I didn’t.
I later found out from a male friend that most guys right-swipe to say yes to every single profile, just to see who responds. Disappointing yet not surprising. I deleted Tinder and moved on to JSwipe, where I’ve met quite a few cool guys.
I’ve also met a few who were less than stellar. And several times I was more drawn to the friend in a photo than the guy himself but was too chicken to ask for an introduction. (Gentlemen: Stop posting group pics. They do you a great disservice.)
The next guy I encountered, last summer, is the real story. Let’s refer to him as Harry. (Initially I swiped right because he had a picture of himself dressed in a Harry Potter beanie and scarf pushing a luggage cart into a wall at a theme-park Harry Potter attraction.) I thought he was funny — and handsome, and I wished he would swipe right on me. I kept going through his pictures and, upon closer inspection, realized I recognized one of the guys.
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My sister looked at the photo and reminded me that we’d met this man during a family vacation. He had mentioned setting me up with his younger brother, who lived in L.A. But I had declined. Who meets a guy’s brother in another country and agrees to go on a blind date back home?
Then Harry swiped right on my profile.
I told him I’d met his brother, and we laughed about the randomness of it. After a few hours of texting, he asked if I wanted to go to a movie. It was late, but in my mind it was OK because the universe had somehow matched us. He picked me up and we went to see “The Purge: Anarchy.” I’m a total wuss when it comes to scary movies, but I figured that if I had to, I could grab his arm — initiate contact.
I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone so quickly. We whispered about the plot throughout the movie. He held me closer every time I jumped. Afterward, we walked through the darkened mall outside the theater holding hands, and he leaned down, put his hands on my waist and kissed me.
We agreed to talk again soon. I think I floated up the stairs to my front door.
Soon meant the next day, when he asked me out to dinner. During the meal, I was mesmerized; we meshed on so many different levels. He seemed to be feeling it as much as I was, but I held back in my conversation because I didn’t want to come on too strong. We talked for hours.
He told me that he was extremely excited about attending Burning Man and invited me along, but it meant missing a week of work, and I just didn’t feel like we were ready to spend a week camping in the desert. We hung out a few more times. Although he was very preoccupied with preparations, he still made time for me.
Then he went off to his weeklong desert festival.
What I didn’t count on was missing him as much as I did. I reread the endless texts from our whirlwind seven-day courtship. I found a live feed of Burning Man and watched it in the background of my desktop at work. When the festival ended, I waited excitedly for him to get back into cellphone range.
A week passed. Total silence. Although I was anxious, I stayed quiet.
Finally, two weeks later, I get a quick hello text. I played it super cool. Hey, nice to hear from you. Welcome back! A few days later I got another hello from him, followed by a “maybe we can hang out next week.”
We didn’t.
I can’t explain what happened. But the guy who left was not the guy who returned. The guy who returned blew me off and then disappeared. My friends said I should tell him how I felt, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I decided if I meant anything more to him than a pre-Burning Man fling, he would come back to me eventually, right?
He hasn’t.
Chani Rubin is a car lover, a music fan and a writer @chanirubin.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the current dating scene in and around Los Angeles. If you have comments or a true story to tell, email us at [email protected]. We pay $300 a column.
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