The Hinge Experiment: Harry Potter, Butterbeer, and a 2 AM Departure!
Last weekend, after attending the South Carolina Forum, I got to spend more time with Airica, and it was awesome.
We had the meat sweats at the Brazilian steakhouse, followed by salad and ice cream. Then, on Sunday, we went out for Mexican food.
Or, as they call it in Mexico…
Food.
You're welcome. I'll be here all week.
But that was last weekend. This weekend, things are getting a little more magical. By magical, I mean I'm about to do something that requires an alarm clock at an hour when most people are still dreaming about it.
Airica Has a Date With the State Fair
This Saturday, Airica is heading to the South Carolina State Fair with her family.
She's looking forward to getting her nieces and nephews some elephant ears. For those unfamiliar with fair food, elephant ears are those enormous pieces of fried dough covered in sugar and other deliciousness that make you question every nutritional decision you've made that week.
And what about Airica?
She's planning a little fair surf-and-turf for herself.
I hope she has a fantastic time with her family. I'm sure the kids will enjoy the rides, games, and treats, while the adults will be doing the usual calculations about how much money they just spent on a stuffed animal that cost more than dinner.
I'll be sitting this one out.
Why?
Because Sunday is Harry Potter day.
We're Going to COSM Atlanta!
On Sunday, Airica and I are heading to Atlanta for something called Shared Reality at COSM.
If you're unfamiliar with COSM, it's an immersive entertainment experience that combines a massive, high-resolution dome display with shared experiences that make you feel like you're stepping into another world.
You can learn more about the experience here:
COSM: The Experience
And what better way to experience this than with Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone?
Yes, we're going to experience Harry Potter in Shared Reality.
There's just one little detail.
The showing starts at 8 AM.
Eight.
In.
The.
Morning.
Who Schedules Harry Potter at 8 AM?
Let's do some math.
The drive from Mount Pleasant to Columbia is approximately two hours.
The drive from Columbia to Atlanta is approximately three hours.
That means I'm looking at about five hours of driving to get to Atlanta, depending on traffic.
And because I need to pick up Airica in Columbia before heading to Atlanta, here's the plan:
2 AM: Leave home in Mount Pleasant.
4 AM: Arrive in Columbia and pick up Airica.
4 AM–7 AM: Drive to Atlanta.
7 AM: Arrive, park, and prepare for the experience.
8 AM: Harry Potter begins.
Around 11 AM: Finish the approximately three-hour experience.
That's right.
I'm leaving home at 2 AM on a Sunday to take a woman I met on Hinge to see Harry Potter.
Somewhere, Steve, the Iguana, is looking at his life choices and wondering how he ended up on the sidelines while I drive across Georgia before sunrise.
A few weeks ago, I wondered whether to delete Hinge because I had no matches.
Now I'm planning a road trip that requires me to wake up at an hour usually reserved for vampires, hospital workers, and people who have made questionable life decisions.
The Hinge Experiment has escalated.
There's a Special Harry Potter Menu!
Now, here's where things get interesting.
COSM has a special food-and-beverage offering for the Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone Shared Reality experience.
You can read the details here:
Harry Potter Shared Reality: Special Food and Beverage Offerings at COSM
Naturally, I had to investigate.
There's a Shepherd's Pie offering, and I purchased one for Airica.
Just one.
Why just one?
Because Shepherd's Pie at 8 AM is not my idea of breakfast.
I understand that we're entering the Wizarding World. I understand that the food is part of the experience. I understand that Harry Potter has probably eaten stranger things than Shepherd's Pie.
But I have my limits.
I'm a man who can eat Brazilian steakhouse meat until he experiences the meat sweats. I'm a man who's had shrimp and grits, rib eye cooked medium-well, and enough candy to stock a small convenience store.
Yet somehow, the thought of Shepherd's Pie first thing in the morning has me saying, "No, thank you."
Airica gets the Shepherd's Pie.
I'll stick with whatever else looks appealing.
And Then There's Butterbeer
I've also never had Butterbeer.
Yes, I know.
Apparently, this is a significant omission in my life.
I've watched movies, reviewed movies, driven to theaters, and even traveled to Pooler, Georgia, to experience the world's tallest IMAX screen.
But Butterbeer?
Nope.
I've never tried it.
I may take a sip.
Just a sip.
I'm not committing to a full Butterbeer experience until I know what I'm getting into.
For all I know, it’ll taste like cream soda and butterscotch, with a magical sugar rush that will have me bouncing off the walls before we even leave Atlanta.
And considering we're starting this adventure at 2 AM, I may need all the assistance I can get.
The Hinge Experiment Has Come a Long Way
Think about where this started.
I was on Hinge, wondering whether to delete the app.
No matches.
No conversations.
No dates.
Steve the Iguana was preparing to become my permanent companion.
Then I matched with Airica.
We talked.
We met for lunch in Columbia.
I nearly fell into a booth at The Grand.
We laughed, talked about our lives, and spent four hours together.
Then came the Brazilian steakhouse, the meat sweats, the gifts, and my first Boo Basket.
Now we're planning an early-morning road trip to Atlanta to experience Harry Potter in Shared Reality.
That's quite a progression.
I'm not going to pretend I know where this is going. We're still getting to know each other, and that's part of the fun.
But I do know this: I'm enjoying the experience.
I'm enjoying the conversations, the laughter, the time together, and the opportunity to do something different.
And if you had told me a few weeks ago that I'd be leaving my house at 2 AM to drive to Atlanta with someone I met on a dating app, I probably would have asked what you were smoking.
Now I'm checking the route, planning the departure time, and wondering whether Butterbeer is worth the hype.
Stay Tuned!
Saturday is the South Carolina State Fair for Airica and her family.
Sunday is Harry Potter, Shared Reality, a very early departure, and possibly my first sip of Butterbeer.
I'll report back.
Will I survive the drive?
Will the experience be worth waking up at 2 AM?
Will Airica enjoy her Shepherd's Pie?
Will I discover that Butterbeer is the greatest beverage ever created?
And most importantly, will Steve the Iguana finally admit that The Hinge Experiment is working?
Stay tuned!
The adventure continues.
The Hinge Experiment: Meat Sweats, My First Boo Basket, and Eyebrow Shenanigans
I'm in downtown Columbia, South Carolina, this weekend for a South Carolina government forum. Some of my fraternity brothers may not be shocked to learn about my participation, and I even made the local news! Want to know more about that adventure? Check out my other blog post.
But that's not the only reason I'm in Columbia.
The real bonus? I get to spend time with Airica.
And last night, we took things to an entirely new level.
Forget the Salad. Bring on the Meat!
We went to a Brazilian steakhouse.
If you've never been to one, let me explain. They bring meat to your table, and then they bring more meat. And when you think you've had enough meat, somebody shows up with another kind of meat.
It's basically a carnivore's all-you-can-eat buffet.
Now, most people start with appetizers. There's salad, smoked salmon, and sides like onion rings and fried okra.
We skipped all of that nonsense.
Who needs salad when there's an entire parade of meat coming your way?
We went straight for the main attraction. Steak, meat, more meat, and then meat that showed up just when you thought you couldn't possibly eat another bite.
And we kept eating.
And eating.
And eating.
At some point, I think my stomach filed a formal complaint with management.
But we weren't just eating.
We were laughing.
A lot.
Transparency, Laughter, and Getting to Know Each Other
One thing I've enjoyed about getting to know Airica is that we can talk about our pasts.
And let's face it, we all have a past.
Some of it is funny. Some of it isn't. Some of it involves decisions we might make differently today. Some of it helps explain why we are who we are now.
We talked openly and transparently about our lives, shared stories, and laughed together.
Neither of us needed to pretend we’d lived some perfectly curated existence.
I appreciate that.
At this stage of my life, I'm not looking for somebody who has never made a mistake. I'm interested in getting to know the person sitting across from me, understanding what matters to her, and seeing whether we enjoy spending time together.
Last night, we certainly had a great time.
Although I may have enjoyed myself a little too much.
The meat sweats were real.
I'm pretty sure I consumed enough protein to keep a small village going for a week.
And somewhere between the laughter and the endless procession of meat, something else happened.
My First Boo Basket!
Remember how I mentioned Airica suggested I might get a Boo Basket?
Well...
IT HAPPENED!
I received my first Boo Basket.
For those unfamiliar, a Boo Basket is a gift basket, typically filled with treats and goodies, given as a fun seasonal surprise.
And now I can officially say I've received one.
At 54, after years of dating misadventures, questionable decisions, and enough stories to keep this blog going for the foreseeable future, I have finally entered the Boo Basket era.
I have to admit, it feels pretty good.
Previously, my first-date souvenirs included paying for meals, a few hurricanes, and money that mysteriously ended up covering somebody else's rent and phone bill.
This time?
I got a gift basket.
Ladies and gentlemen, The Hinge Experiment is showing measurable improvement.
I'm not saying there's a direct correlation between a successful first date and receiving a Boo Basket, but I'm certainly not going to argue with the results.
Tonight: Sweets, Laughter, and Potential Eyebrow Crimes
If last night was about meat, tonight may be about sweets.
And apparently, there may also be some eyebrow-related insanity.
For those keeping up with the ongoing saga, Airica has already issued a formal directive:
DO NOT TOUCH THOSE EYEBROWS.
The eyebrows are staying.
Ming the Merciless lives!
My fraternity brothers have reminded me about my bushy eyebrows during our Tuesday and Friday Zoom hangouts. A guy at a recovery meeting has compared me to Ming the Merciless. Now Airica has made it clear she likes them as they are.
At this point, I'm afraid to touch them.
What happens if I trim them and she doesn't recognize me?
What happens if I go for threading and accidentally remove half my personality?
What happens if I show up looking like a completely different person?
I could lose my entire identity.
The eyebrows aren't just facial hair anymore. They're a relationship issue.
So tonight, there may be sweets, more laughs, and whatever eyebrow-related insanity Airica has planned.
I'm not sure whether I should be excited or afraid.
Possibly both.
Columbia Is Turning Into a Pretty Good Weekend
I came to Columbia for a South Carolina government forum.
I participated in something that may surprise a few people who know me, and I even appeared on the local news. That's a story for my other blog.
But the unexpected bonus has been spending time with Airica.
We've shared a meal, laughed until we could barely keep going, talked about our lives, exchanged gifts, and continued getting to know each other.
And somewhere along the way, the guy who was seriously considering deleting Hinge has found himself planning weekends around a woman he met on the app.
A few weeks ago, my Hinge inbox was emptier than a refrigerator after a fraternity party.
Now I'm in Columbia, eating enough meat to require a second stomach, receiving Boo Baskets, and trying to figure out whether my eyebrows need legal representation.
I did not see this coming.
I'm glad I took a chance on meeting someone new.
I'm glad we can laugh together.
And I'm glad I can enjoy someone's company without feeling like I need to perform or pretend to be somebody I'm not.
That's what I'm enjoying about this experience.
It's not about whether every date leads somewhere. It's about getting out there, being open to new experiences, and discovering whether there's a connection worth exploring.
Right now, this connection gives me plenty to smile about.
The Hinge Experiment: Current Status
The match happened.
The first date happened.
The second round of hanging out is happening.
The conversations are continuing.
The Boo Basket has been received.
The meat sweats have subsided. Mostly.
And the eyebrows remain untouched.
Steve the Iguana may need to reconsider his retirement plans.
As for me, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my weekend in Columbia.
Tonight, there may be sweets, laughter, and some eyebrow-related shenanigans.
Tomorrow, who knows?
One thing is certain: when I started The Hinge Experiment, I never imagined I'd be writing about Brazilian steakhouses, Boo Baskets, and the continuing adventures of Ming the Merciless's eyebrows.
But here we are.
And I'm having a pretty good time.
Stay tuned. The Hinge Experiment continues!
The Hinge Experiment: Harry Potter, Market Research and a Very Profitable Weekend
Apparently, the universe has decided that The Hinge Experiment™ needs a travel budget.
I found out yesterday that I might be able to go to Columbia, South Carolina, this weekend for a two-day market research interview/discussion.
That sounds pretty good on its own.
Then I found out there was a small problem.
Airica was hoping we could go see the Harry Potter experience at COSM in Atlanta.
Well, that ain't happening.
Atlanta will have to wait.
But then I realized something.
Airica is in Columbia.
And suddenly, this market research weekend got a whole lot more interesting.
Wait... This Actually Works
The original plan was Harry Potter in Atlanta.
Instead, we're going to have:
Friday night: Dinner with Airica.
Saturday: I do my market research session, then we hang out afterward.
Sunday afternoon: More time together.
So instead of one Harry Potter adventure in Atlanta, I potentially get three opportunities to hang out with Airica in Columbia.
I'm calling that a win.
And there's another little detail that makes this weekend even better.
Somebody Is Paying Me to Go on This Trip
Let's review the economics here.
I'm getting:
A hotel for the weekend.
Food during the market research sessions.
Payment for participating.
And 72 cents per mile for the drive.
Seventy-two cents.
Per.
Mile.
When can I do another one of these?
Seriously.
Where do I sign up?
If somebody wants to pay me to drive to Columbia, put me in a hotel, feed me, pay me for my time, and give me an opportunity to see Airica...
I suddenly have a very strong interest in market research.
I may become the world's foremost expert on answering questions in exchange for hotel rooms.
"Would you recommend this product?"
Absolutely.
"Why?"
Because you're paying me to be here.
Next question.
The Harry Potter Detour
I do feel bad that the Harry Potter plans aren't going to happen.
Airica wanted to see the Harry Potter movie at COSM in Atlanta.
Unfortunately, the timing of this market research opportunity makes that a no-go.
But here's the thing I've learned about dating:
Plans change.
Things come up.
We adjust.
And instead of spending the weekend apart because the original plan didn't work, we're finding a way to spend time together anyway.
Friday night.
Saturday after my session.
Sunday afternoon.
I'm pretty sure that's significantly better than sitting in my hotel room eating whatever they give me and watching television.
Although I reserve the right to do that for at least part of Saturday night.
I'm 54.
I'm allowed to get tired.
Then Came This Morning
This morning, I beat Airica to the "Good morning" text.
This is apparently becoming a competition.
And I have to admit, I hesitated.
It was my usual dialysis morning.
The time when most normal human beings are asleep.
The time when I'm awake because I have an appointment with the vampire machine to clean my blood.
The dialysis facility was also short-staffed, so I ended up sitting in the waiting area.
And while I was sitting there, I thought:
Should I text her?
It's early.
Really early.
Most of the world isn't awake at the hour I willingly allow a machine to remove approximately every useful thing from my blood while someone sticks two needles into my arm.
Would "Good morning" at this hour be considered sweet?
Or would it be considered:
"Why the hell is this guy texting me at 5-something in the morning?"
There's a fine line between romantic and requiring a restraining order.
I decided to risk it.
I sent the message.
Apparently, I'm Learning
One thing I've noticed about this whole experience is how different it feels.
I'm not trying to manufacture conversation.
I'm not sitting there wondering if I'm going to get a response.
I'm not staring at a Hinge screen wondering why someone disappeared.
We're actually talking.
We're making plans.
And now we're figuring out how to make a weekend work when the original plan doesn't.
That's dating.
At least, I think that's dating.
Remember, I'm the guy whose recent dating résumé includes being asked for rent money and a phone bill.
My qualifications are limited.
Columbia, Here I Come
So now I get to drive to Columbia, get paid to participate in market research, get reimbursed for the mileage, stay in a hotel, eat someone else's food...
and see Airica three times.
Harry Potter may have lost.
But I think I came out pretty well in the rewrite.
And somewhere, Steve the Iguana is probably sitting on a beach wondering how the hell this happened.
A few weeks ago, I was seriously considering deleting Hinge.
Now I'm planning a weekend around a woman I met on it.
Maybe The Hinge Experiment isn't quite ready to end.
Maybe it's just getting interesting.
And if anyone knows where I can sign up for another two-day market research study in a city where Airica happens to live...
I'm available. 😂
The Hinge Experiment: Please Do Not Touch Those Eyebrows
Today was one of those days when I feel like I need a vacation from my day.
It started with an eye appointment.
The good news: the retina is still attached.
That seems like a pretty good way to start a Tuesday.
I go back in a month for another check. The purpose of that visit is to make sure I haven't developed macular edema, specifically DME. If everything still looks good, I'll move to appointments every three months to make sure I don't eventually need one of those delightful shots directly into my eyeball.
Because apparently normal people get eye exams.
I get eye exams where the doctor is checking whether my retina is still where it belongs and whether we're going to have to inject something into my eye.
Dating after 50 is exciting.
Then Recovery
After the eye appointment, I went to a recovery meeting for an hour.
Airica knows I'm in recovery.
There's no reason to hide it, and frankly, I'm not interested in hiding it.
It's part of my life.
Just like dialysis.
Just like the prosthetic.
Just like the eyes.
Just like the eyebrows.
Apparently, the eyebrows may actually be the most important part of this story.
We'll get to that.
Then Off to the Vascular Surgeon
After the meeting, I headed over to Novant to have my fistula graft checked.
The good news continued.
Everything looks good.
I don't have to go back for four months.
I'll take that.
So far today:
Retina attached.
Fistula graft good.
Recovery meeting completed.
Eyebrows apparently still under consideration.
Then It Was Time for Mom
I stopped at Come Back Shack and picked up lunch.
For me:
Fried chicken salad with ranch.
For Mom:
Hawaiian chicken salad with fries.
I got to the skilled nursing facility and found Mom asleep.
Instead of waking her up, I left her food on the rolling tray next to her bed.
By then, lunch had apparently become dinner.
I sat in the lobby, ate my salad, and checked movie times.
Why?
Because apparently there is a new Tom Cruise movie called Digger.
Review coming.
Yes, I am aware that my life has somehow become a combination of dialysis, medical appointments, recovery, assisted living research, dating, and Tom Cruise movie reviews.
I'm leaning into it.
And Then My Phone Buzzed
Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I heard from Airica.
And one of her first messages was:
"Please do not touch those eyebrows."
Ladies and gentlemen...
We have confirmation.
For those of you wondering whether Airica actually likes the Ming the Merciless look...
She does.
I have proof.
Apparently, these eyebrows aren't a problem.
They're a feature.
The threading appointment is canceled.
My eyebrows live to fight another day.
The Conversation Continues
Airica and I had another awesome conversation.
We talked about having a wish.
Then somehow that conversation turned into Amazon Prime Day.
Then Christmas lists.
Then Sono Bello.
Apparently, I need to lose about 20 pounds.
This is becoming an aggressive dating strategy.
First:
"Don't touch your eyebrows."
At least she's keeping me on my toes.
Then We Went Everywhere
We talked about the songs I listened to while driving around Mount Pleasant.
We talked about me going to a recovery meeting.
She knows I'm in recovery, so there isn't any reason for me to pretend otherwise.
We talked about my salad.
I even sent her a completely respectable picture of it.
Not a nasty selfie.
A salad selfie.
Apparently, there are levels to dating after 50.
I'm choosing to believe this is one of them.
Then somehow the conversation moved to pizza.
And tiramisu.
Apparently there's some saying involving "Not the tiramisu?"
My 54-year-old brain did not comprehend the reference.
It went straight over my head.
Apparently there are cultural references I missed while I was busy doing whatever the hell I was doing for the last 30 years.
I'll have to investigate.
The Important Part
For those keeping score at home:
The conversation is still awesome.
And we're making plans to hang out this weekend.
Together.
Not hanging out with each other, which would be a fairly ridiculous definition of a date.
That's another thing I like about this.
We're not spending all day trying to figure out whether the other person is interested.
We're actually talking.
We're making plans.
We're learning things about each other.
And I'm not sitting around staring at Hinge wondering why my match disappeared into the digital abyss.
This is different.
Tuesday and Friday Have One Problem
I did let Airica know that Tuesday and Friday nights are already spoken for.
Those nights belong to my fraternity brothers and our Zoom hangout.
And without fail, I get grilled about the date.
How did it go?
What did you talk about?
Are you going to see her again?
What happened?
Basically, it's like having a Greek chorus of nosy brothers who have collectively decided that my dating life is their new favorite television show.
Now they have even more material.
Because there was a first date.
There was a mug.
There's a second-date possibility.
There are weekend plans.
And apparently, the eyebrows have received official approval.
I'm sure Tuesday's Zoom will be completely normal.
Absolutely no one will ask me about Airica.
Sure.
And I'm the guy who almost fell into a booth on his first date.
The Hinge Experiment Update
A few weeks ago, I was wondering if it was time to delete Hinge.
I had no matches.
No conversations.
No dates.
Steve the Iguana was practically packing my bags.
Now?
I've had an actual first date.
It went well.
I'm still talking to her.
We're making plans for the weekend.
She sends me good morning texts.
She likes my eyebrows.
And somehow, I'm okay with all of this.
For once, The Hinge Experiment doesn't feel like an experiment.
It feels like I'm just getting to know someone.
And that's probably the best part.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a retina to keep attached, a fistula graft to maintain, a movie to review, a mother to visit, fraternity brothers to answer to...
And 54-year-old dating decisions to make.
Oh, and apparently I'm keeping the eyebrows.
Airica has spoken.
The Hinge Experiment: My Eyebrows Are Now Part of the Story
I'm older than most people wandering around the dating-app wilderness, and saying I don't have much recent dating experience would be an understatement.
Actually, forget recent.
I don't have much dating experience, period.
My last first date was about five months ago.
For anyone new to the blog, that one didn't exactly end with a mug and talk of a Boo Basket.
She tried to shake me down.
First, it was rent money.
Then came the phone bill.
Luckily, I escaped after paying for a meal, a few hurricanes, and maybe $60 cash that I had on me.
Considering how that evening was headed, I consider myself lucky.
So now that I've had an actual enjoyable first date with Airica, I've encountered an entirely new problem:
What the hell am I supposed to do next?
Is There Still a Three-Day Rule?
Do I wait three days?
Four days?
Do I call?
Text?
Send a carrier pigeon?
Do I conjure up a magical genie and ask it to grant me three wishes, with one of them being:
"Please don't let me screw this up."
I don't know the rules.
The last time I had a first date, I was apparently supposed to bring enough cash to cover someone's monthly expenses.
This feels different.
Thankfully, Airica may have answered the question for me.
Good Morning
Today is a dialysis day.
That means my alarm goes off around 4:15 in the morning so I can start getting myself together and make my 5:50 dialysis start.
Once I'm hooked up, I usually try to sleep.
It makes the time go faster.
But this morning, I got a more-than-pleasant surprise.
A "Good morning" text from Airica.
WAIT.
WHAT?
I don't have to wait three days?
I don't need the genie?
I don't need to analyze the date like the Zapruder film?
Apparently, people who enjoy talking to each other can just…
continue talking to each other.
What a concept.
I was so pleasantly surprised that my dialysis needles almost came shooting out.
For the record, that would have significantly changed the tone of this blog post.
But I Had a Question
On my drive to dialysis this morning, I started thinking about something Airica said during our date.
I had asked her why she swiped on me.
Her answer?
Apparently, I had an "interesting look."
Interesting.
I've been thinking about that one.
Is "interesting look" another way of saying:
"You're not ugly, but I'm also not prepared to call you conventionally handsome"?
At this stage of my life, interesting works.
I've got one leg, no hair, questionable eyesight, kidneys that have outsourced their responsibilities to a machine three days a week, and now apparently an interesting face.
Put that on Hinge.
Then She Mentioned the Eyebrows
Airica also pointed out my eyebrows yesterday.
Specifically…
how bushy they are.
Excuse me?
My eyebrows?
Bushy?
No way.
All right.
Maybe a little.
Actually, this isn't the first time I've heard this.
It's becoming something of a recurring theme.
Most Tuesdays and Fridays during the fraternity Zoom hangout, I can count on someone to remind me that my eyebrows have apparently declared independence from the rest of my face.
Then there's a guy at one of my recovery meetings who calls me:
Ming the Merciless.
If you're not familiar with Ming, look him up.
Look at the eyebrows.
Apparently, you'll understand.
And now Airica has joined the Eyebrow Oversight Committee.
At some point, when multiple independent organizations reach the same conclusion, I suppose I have to consider the possibility that there might actually be a problem.
They're Large and in Charge
I told Airica this isn't the first time I've heard about them.
These eyebrows are large and in charge.
It's actually a little unfair.
My head decided years ago that growing hair was no longer part of the strategic plan.
Meanwhile, my eyebrows apparently looked at the newly available resources and said:
"We'll take it from here."
All the hair production has been consolidated into two small strips directly above my eyes.
Efficiency.
Maybe this is why Airica thought I had an "interesting look."
She didn't swipe on me.
The eyebrows matched hers.
I'm just their transportation.
Do I Need Threading?
Now I'm starting to wonder whether I need to try one of those eyebrow-threading places.
I've seen them.
Someone takes a piece of thread and somehow uses it to rip hair out of your face.
This sounds exactly like the type of activity a man with my medical history should voluntarily add to his schedule.
Dialysis Monday.
Eyebrow torture Tuesday.
Dialysis Wednesday.
Recover from eyebrows Thursday.
Dialysis Friday.
Dating Saturday.
Seems reasonable.
The problem is that I know myself.
I'll walk in and say:
"Just clean them up a little."
Then I'll open my eyes and discover that I've gone from Ming the Merciless to Whoopi Goldberg.
No eyebrows.
Nothing.
Just forehead transitioning directly into eyeballs.
So, About That Follow-Up...
I guess I don't have to figure out whether I should wait three days.
Airica texted me.
She said good morning.
We survived the first date.
She survived my driving.
She survived my near fall at The Grand.
She survived four hours with me.
She made it home with all of her organs.
And the next morning, she still wanted to say hello.
I'll take that as a positive sign.
Does that mean there's going to be a second date?
I still don't know.
I'm new at this.
Maybe I still have to audition.
Maybe I'm waiting for the callback.
But compared with where The Hinge Experiment was a few weeks ago—zero matches, zero conversations, and Steve the Iguana preparing to become my permanent companion—I'd say we're making progress.
And if there is a second date, I may arrive with slightly more aerodynamic eyebrows.
Or I may leave them exactly as they are.
After all…
She swiped right on the eyebrows she saw.
No sense engaging in false advertising now.
But if the next picture you see of me has absolutely no eyebrows whatsoever, you'll know what happened.
Airica started it.