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.

The Tinder Experiment Is Over. Welcome to The Hinge.

Well, it happened.

The Tinder experiment is officially over.

I deleted my profile. Hopefully.

I say “hopefully” because deleting anything from the internet feels less like destroying evidence and more like politely asking a multinational corporation to maybe stop showing it to people eventually.

But Tinder and I have parted ways.

After the swiping, the matching, the questionable conversations, and the recurring suspicion that I was less likely to find a date than I was to receive an exciting new investment opportunity, I decided it was time.

So naturally, I did the sensible thing.

I joined another dating app.

Welcome to The Hinge.

Yes, I know it's just called Hinge. But “The Hinge” sounds more dramatic, like a nightclub, a medical procedure, or something at Home Depot.

Apparently, Hinge is “designed to be deleted.”

Challenge accepted.

The question is: why will I delete it?

Will I actually meet someone?

Will I get any matches at all?

Will I match with someone, have a perfectly normal conversation, and then hear:

“I don't check this app very often. Do you have WhatsApp?”

🚩🚩🚩

Will someone want to take the conversation offline almost immediately?

Will she suddenly have an incredible business opportunity?

Will cryptocurrency somehow enter the conversation?

Will she own a thriving import/export business that requires absolutely no physical location?

Will we talk for three days and then she mysteriously disappear?

Or—and I realize this is an absolutely insane possibility—will someone actually want to meet me in person?

Coffee.

Dinner.

A movie.

Two human beings occupying the same physical location without anyone trying to sell the other one something.

Imagine that.

I'm going into The Hinge with an open mind. I'm going to swipe—or like, or comment, or whatever terminology we're using over there—and see what happens.

I'm not expecting perfection.

I'm not even expecting normal.

I'm just hoping for an actual human being who wants to have a conversation, laugh a little, eventually meet in person, and doesn't need me to download another messaging app before revealing that her uncle has taught her a proprietary cryptocurrency trading strategy.

The bar is low, people.

Very low.

So begins the next dating experiment.

How long will The Hinge last?

How many matches will I get?

How many will turn into conversations?

How many conversations will turn into actual dates?

And how many will end with me staring at my phone thinking:

“Oh, for God's sake. Not again.”

Only time will tell.

Until then...

Pray with me, Forest.

Pray with me.