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.