BREAKING NEWS: The Hinge Experiment May Have Produced an Actual Date

I don't want anyone to panic.

Remain calm.

Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.

Because after weeks of conducting what has increasingly resembled a federally funded research project into why people on dating apps refuse to actually date, something extraordinary has happened.

I MAY HAVE A DATE.

Yes.

A date.

With another human being.

In person.

I don't think cryptocurrency is involved.

“Missing Me” Is Apparently Not Missing Anymore

Those following The Hinge Experiment™ may remember contestant number three, appropriately named “Missing Me.”

We've had an interesting communication journey.

There have been messages.

There have been gaps.

There have been “good mornings.”

There have been questions I've asked that apparently entered the same mysterious dimension where missing socks from the dryer live.

But I continued the experiment.

Eventually, I decided to try something radical.

Something perhaps unprecedented in the history of online dating.

I asked a woman on a dating app to go on a date.

I know.

Crazy.

My message was simple:

“Whatcha doing this weekend? Can I take you out?”

Then...

Nothing.

Thursday passed.

So naturally, I deployed the internationally recognized symbol for:

HELLO? IS THIS THING ON?

“?”

Elegant.

Sophisticated.

Shakespeare would have been proud.

And then last night...

A RESPONSE.

“That would be nice.”

WAIT.

WHAT?

WE HAVE ENTERED UNCHARTED TERRITORY

I immediately asked:

“Are you available Saturday? Tomorrow?”

She replied:

“Sunday I could be.”

Ladies and gentlemen...

WE HAVE A DAY.

This is no longer theoretical dating.

We have moved beyond:

“Good morning.”

We have advanced beyond:

“How was your weekend?”

We have smashed through the seemingly impenetrable barrier known as:

Actually answering a direct question.

Sunday.

SUNDAY!

At this point, I feel like NASA Mission Control.

Houston, we have verbal confirmation of Sunday.

Of course, Sunday isn't enough.

Now we need a location.

I've never really been to Myrtle Beach or Surfside, so I suggested Tydz, which keeps appearing in my algorithm.

Because apparently the same technology that has spent months showing me scammers, bizarre Facebook Reels, and random videos I never requested may finally be useful.

So I wrote:

“Ok, Sunday it is! I have not been to MB or Surfside before. Tydz keeps coming up on the algorithm for me. Work for you?”

And...

Sent.

Now we wait.

Again.

Naturally.

Steve, Don't Pack Your Bags Just Yet

Longtime readers know I had already developed an alternative strategy for meeting women.

Steve the Iguana.

The plan was simple.

If online dating completely failed, I'd acquire an iguana and become that guy walking down the beach with a giant reptile on his shoulder.

You know the guy.

Everybody talks to that guy.

Nobody approaches a random bald man walking down the beach and says:

“Hi! Tell me about yourself!”

Put a four-foot iguana on his shoulder?

Suddenly:

“OH, MY GOD! CAN I PET HIM?”

Steve was going to be my wingman.

But Steve, I've got some news.

You may not be needed on Sunday.

Don't get too comfortable, though.

We still don't have a confirmed restaurant.

We don't have a time.

We haven't physically occupied the same ZIP code.

And I've been doing this long enough to understand that there is an enormous difference between:

“Sunday I could be.”

and

two people actually sitting across from each other at a restaurant on Sunday.

So Steve remains on standby.

What the Hell Do I Do Now?

Here's the really funny part.

I've spent so much time writing about trying to get a date that I haven't adequately prepared for the possibility of actually getting one.

What happens now?

Do I need clothes?

Obviously I need clothes.

But which clothes?

How early do I arrive?

Five minutes?

Ten minutes?

Thirty minutes?

Do I bring flowers?

That seems like too much.

Do I open the door?

Absolutely.

Do I tell her I've been documenting this entire dating experiment on my blog?

Probably not in the first seven minutes.

Do I mention Steve?

Steve is probably a second-date conversation.

And what do two people on a first date even talk about in 2026?

Maybe I'll start with something safe:

“So... how are you coping with the stupid heat and humidity?”

Wait.

I've tried that one before.

The Hinge Standings Have Changed

Let's review how far we've come.

Kelli: Unmatched. She has the Google Voice number. The phone has not exactly been ringing off the hook.

Gina: We communicated. Still part of the greater Hinge cinematic universe.

Missing Me: Has potentially accomplished the impossible.

A DATE.

Sunday.

Possibly Tydz.

Potentially two actual humans meeting face-to-face after initially encountering each other through a rectangle of glass connected to the internet.

What a time to be alive.

But I'm not declaring victory yet.

Until I'm sitting at a table across from her, this remains Schrödinger's Date.

The date simultaneously exists and does not exist until Sunday arrives and somebody opens the restaurant door.

So...

Will Missing Me become Meeting Me?

Will Sunday actually happen?

Will we have a great time?

Will she take one look at me and suddenly remember an emergency dental appointment?

Will I finally have to write a blog called:

“Holy Crap, I Actually Went on a Hinge Date”?

Or will Steve the Iguana receive an emergency call-up from the minors?

We'll find out.

For the first time in The Hinge Experiment, however...

I might actually need to make plans for Sunday.

Pray with me, Forest.

Pray with me.