Well, That Was Fast: I Got My First Hinge Match

Remember when I said the Tinder experiment was over and I had moved on to The Hinge?

Remember when I wondered how long it would take before I got a match?

Apparently, the answer was:

Not very long.

I woke up this morning and got a bit of a late start. No dialysis today, so there wasn't an alarm dragging me out of bed at an ungodly hour. I eventually got myself moving, checked my email, and there it was:

“Niel and Kelli, you matched!”

Wait.

WHAT?

I actually matched with someone?

On a dating app?

Already?

I was surprised.

I was amazed.

And against everything I've learned from online dating thus far, I was even a little...

Hopeful.

Her name is Kelli, and she's in Conway, South Carolina.

That's roughly an hour away from me.

Some people might look at that distance and say, “That's kind of far.”

I look at it and say:

I like to drive.

Problem solved.

But First, I Had Stuff to Do

Despite receiving this potentially historic notification, I didn't immediately drop everything and begin crafting the greatest opening line in the history of online dating.

I had things to do.

Also, let's establish something very important:

I don't spit mad game.

There was no:

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

No carefully researched pickup line.

No ChatGPT-generated Shakespearean sonnet about her eyes.

I eventually opened the conversation with:

“Hello Kelli! How are you coping with the stupid heat and humidity?”

Smooth?

Debatable.

Authentic?

Absolutely.

Because it is stupid hot and humid.

We're in South Carolina in August. You can walk outside for four minutes and somehow need another shower.

So rather than pretending I'm some suave dating-app Casanova, I went with something every person in South Carolina can currently agree upon:

Why is the air wet?

And now...

I wait.

This Is Where the Experiment Gets Interesting

The first hurdle has officially been cleared.

I got a match.

Now we move on to Phase Two of The Hinge Experiment.

Will Kelli respond?

Will we have an actual conversation?

Will we discover we have things in common?

Could there eventually be a drive to Conway—or somewhere in between—to actually meet another human being in person?

Or will the universe continue its recent tradition of using dating apps to teach me valuable lessons about cryptocurrency, WhatsApp, and international investment opportunities?

I don't know.

But right now, I'm choosing optimism.

A real match appeared.

I sent a completely normal message.

She's about an hour away.

I like driving.

And, most importantly, nobody has tried to sell me anything yet.

This is already progress.

Now we wait.

Pray with me, Forest. Pray with me.

Pumpkin Spice in August? Krispy Kreme, We Need to Talk.

I live in the Low Country, where today’s high was 95 degrees with approximately 99% humidity.

Did it actually feel like 120 degrees? Maybe not according to science. According to the amount I was sweating? Absolutely.

Tomorrow, we get to do it all over again. The forecast calls for 94°F — about 34.4°C — with a heat advisory.

So naturally, this is the perfect time for...

PUMPKIN SPICE.

Wait. What?!?!??!

I received an email today from Krispy Kreme. And before anyone starts judging me, I don't go there that often. I apparently maintain enough of a relationship with Krispy Kreme that they know how to find me when they have important doughnut-related news.

The email announced some limited-time flavors.

Café Mocha. Okay. Chocolate icing, coffee-flavored buttercream swirl. I'm listening.

Maple Cheesecake. I like maple. I like cheesecake. This relationship has potential.

Biscoff Cookie Butter. Yum. No further questions.

And then...

Pumpkin Spice Cake.

Excuse me?

IT IS AUGUST 11.

Can we please slow down?

What's the rush?

Is pumpkin spice really that addictive? Are there people sitting around in July checking their calendars and whispering, "Just a few more weeks..."?

I don't understand the draw.

We've spent years complaining that teenagers are growing up too quickly.

Then retailers decided that apparently Christmas needs a three-month warmup, so the moment the last trick-or-treater leaves your driveway on Halloween, somebody starts playing Mariah Carey and putting inflatable reindeer on the lawn.

Now apparently fall doesn't even have to wait for summer to end.

We're skipping right over Labor Day.

We're ignoring the swimming pools.

We're pretending the beach isn't approximately the temperature of the surface of Mercury.

PUMPKIN. SPICE. IS. HERE.

Meanwhile, much of the country is dealing with heat advisories, and here in the Low Country I'm trying to determine whether I actually need to shower or whether standing outside for five minutes already counts.

I don't want a pumpkin patch.

I don't want a sweater.

I don't want to hear about crisp autumn air.

I WANT THE AIR CONDITIONER TO KEEP WORKING.

At this rate, the seasonal calendar is going to collapse completely. Pumpkin spice will arrive in June, Halloween candy will hit the shelves around Easter, and we'll be buying Christmas trees while we're still setting off Fourth of July fireworks.

Krispy Kreme, the Café Mocha looks good.

The Maple Cheesecake looks really good.

The Cookie Butter might actually get me through the door.

But Pumpkin Spice Cake?

It's 95 degrees outside.

Let the pumpkin sleep.

Its time will come.

Another One Caught: Parking Like the Rules Don't Apply

I caught another one.


Today I was on my way to the local Harris Teeter to pick up additional lottery tickets for the pool I'm in (more about that over at NielFlamm.com/blog). Harris Teeter is only about a mile from my house, and to get there, I pass Rivertowne Public House—which, by the way, has a great Caesar salad and chicken nachos if you've never been.


As I approached Harris Teeter, just past the Pub House, I noticed a white BMW X3 with a South Carolina license plate WUP 290. The driver was inching his way into a parking space so slowly that he backed up traffic in both directions. It wasn't a particularly difficult parking job—it just seemed like everyone else had to wait while he perfected it.


I didn't have time to snap a photo on the way in because I was headed to buy those lottery tickets. But I secretly hoped the BMW would still be there when I came back out on my way to get a car wash.


It was.


One thing that crossed my mind: this happened before anyone at the nearby pub would reasonably have had a chance to enjoy a few adult beverages and make questionable decisions afterward. From what I observed, this appeared to be a sober driver making a deliberate choice to take as much time as needed, regardless of the line of cars waiting behind him.


That's one of the reasons I'm glad I have this blog. It gives me a place to document the little moments that make you shake your head.


One quick note before anyone points it out: yes, you'll notice a golf cart parked in a handicap space. It appears to be a legitimate designated spot, and I don’t have information on whether the owner has a disability. I'm not making any assumptions about that.


What I am commenting on is the behavior I personally witnessed. Taking your time is one thing. Holding up traffic in both directions because you're determined to execute the perfect parking maneuver is another. A little consideration for the people around you goes a long way.


As a BMW owner myself, I hate seeing behavior that reinforces the stereotype that BMW drivers are selfish or entitled. Most of us aren't. Unfortunately, it only takes a few memorable moments like this to give everyone else a bad reputation.


Let's all remember that parking lots work best when everyone shares them with a little patience, courtesy, and awareness.


Have you ever witnessed a parking lot moment that made you wonder what someone was thinking? Leave a comment and let me know.

🥵 Summer Called… It Wants Its Temperature Back

I was out running errands around 3:00 PM EDT today, and my car’s thermometer looked like it had simply given up.


Then there was the humidity—easily 80% or more. You know the kind. You step outside, and your shirt immediately files for divorce from being dry.


The official temperature may have been one thing, but it felt like 200°F. I half expected to see eggs frying on the hood and my prosthetic asking for air conditioning.


If you saw someone sprinting from the parking lot to the nearest building, there was a good chance it was me. Stay cool, stay hydrated, and if you’re in the South, remember: you’re not sweating… you’re just slowly becoming part of the atmosphere.

I Was Offended… Apparently I’m a Senior Now

Today, I was offended.

Not by politics.

Not by social media.

Not even by hospital cafeteria coffee.

No… I was personally attacked by kindness.

I stopped by Harris Teeter on Ben Sawyer in Mount Pleasant to grab lunch before heading to the hospital to spend time with my mom. It wasn’t exactly a gourmet feast—a sandwich, a Coke Zero, a KitKat, and yes… a chocolate chip cookie.

Before anyone starts judging my nutritional choices, remember… hospitals burn emotional calories.

I rolled up to the self-checkout and hadn’t even entered my alternate ID or scanned my first item when a very pleasant Harris Teeter employee walked over and said:

“Let me give you an additional discount.”

Now we’re talking!

I’m thinking maybe it’s Customer Appreciation Day.

Maybe they liked my smile.

Maybe they recognized my dazzling personality.

I happily started scanning each item while the self-checkout AI watched me like I was starring in CSI: Grocery Store. Every beep felt like I was proving my innocence.

Finally, I hit Pay.

That’s when I saw it.

Senior Discount.

…Excuse me?

Senior?

Who?

Me?

Are you absolutely serious?

I thought I looked pretty good for my age. Half Asian genes are supposed to buy you extra time before aging catches up. We don’t gently age—we apparently hit the wall decades later… and then gravity just wins in one spectacular weekend.

Sure, I qualify for an AARP membership.

But I always viewed that as more of a suggestion than an identity.

Now I’m wondering if I should start saying things like, “Back in my day…”

Should I begin eating dinner at 4:15?

Am I required to complain about gas prices and the weather?

Should I start carrying hard candy in my pockets?

I guess the next logical step is downloading the OurTime dating app.

Apparently, society has spoken.

On the bright side…

If someone wants to save me money because they think I’ve earned enough birthdays, who am I to argue?

I’ll take the discount.

But I’m still recovering emotionally.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go yell at some kids to stay off my lawn.

…The lawn I don’t even have.

Getting older is weird.

At least the Coke Zero was still full price.