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The Fantasy of Tinder Love

#MyWorstDate

By Saber A’lyPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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Tinder has always, and will always be known as the dating app that really isn't a dating app. As a woman in her mid-twenties I am aware of this, but still hope that I meet one of the men of the 5 percent that want something more meaningful than a hook-up. Don't get me wrong, I have indeed met men on there just for the sake of being friends with benefits, but even that doesn't always go anywhere. When will a girl learn? About a month ago is that answer, I finally learned about a month ago.

It all started when I decided to give Tinder yet another chance. I selected my cutest of photos, typed a witty about me section and got to swiping. Left, left left, ooo he is really, cute right, right, right, right... Wait, I should message one of these guys. Keeping it simple seems to be better than sending some long drawn out message. "Hey, how are you doing?" I typed the message several times and sent it to all my matches. Some responded but it seemed to go nowhere, at this point what was the point. A few days later I hear a ding on my phone and look down to see that someone has messaged me. This was the really, cute guy. With a little excitement I opened the app to see at this response: "Good, just looking for a hook-up."

Now it was at this point that I knew I had two options: unmatch or respond. Being the woman that I am I responded. You might be thinking to yourself, what the hell is wrong with her, if she is looking for that 5 percent then this guy clearly isn't it. I know, I know, but a girl can hope, right?

"Finally, a guy that is honest about what he actually wants. I'm not looking for just a hook-up but maybe a fwb."

We kept chatting for a bit then exchanged numbers. The following day my best friend and I decided to go to a local gay bar for karaoke. I rocked the stage so much I got hungry and we had to get pizza next door afterwards. Mr. Hookup and I had been texting off and on all day. He decided he was going to pick me up and take me back to his place.

As soon as Mr. Hookup arrived I knew nothing was going to happen that night. He stumbled inside wearing flip flops, it's winter at this time, and was so drunk he sat at the wrong table and started chatting with a guy and girl that was not me and my friend. I had no intentions of saying anything, but my best friend told me to wave him over. So, wave him over I did. After arguing with him for about five minutes we finally convinced him to let one of us drive his car to his place and drop him off. That way we knew he got home safely.

I'm sure you are reading this and wondering to yourself how I could consider this not only a worst date, but a date at all. Don't worry, I don't. For foolish reasons I still don't understand, a week or so later I decided to give Mr. Hookup a sober chance.

Mr. Hookup was warned from the beginning that nothing sexual was going to happen, that he was just being given a chance since the first one was so drunken and awful. Boy do I wish I had never given this man a second chance.

To make this story more understandable I should share that I am black, and Mr. Hookup is white; this is relevant I swear!

"Nigga" a word that bothers mean people, myself included. When Mr. Hookup decided it was OK to call me "nigga," I simply asked him to refrain from doing so. I wasn't angry, it just made me uncomfortable. By the third or fourth time I was getting quite annoyed. I knew at this point that it would be smart to leave, but I stayed.

Eventually we were sitting on his couch chatting while watching Planet Earth. He had apologized more than once for calling me nigga and I forgave him. "If you could learn any language what would it be?" he asked me.

"Oh, that's easy, Spanish or ASL," I replied.

"Hmm ASL is that universal?"

"No, it’s only in America."

"What’s the point then? If I can't use it everywhere, then I don't want to learn it anymore," He told me with annoyance in his town.

I explained to him that we have a very large community of deaf people and learning it would be wonderful for not only communicating with them but others throughout this large country. He did not agree.

"I wish I didn't feel this way, but I do," he told me. I looked at him with squinted eyes wondering what he meant. "I think all deaf people and retards..."

HOLD UP! Did he just say retards? I can't believe he just said retards; as someone with a sibling that is mentally handicapped I hate that word!

"I think all deaf people and retards should die!" he exclaimed.

I, I didn't know how to respond, I just looked at him for a second then finally told him that he should keep such thoughts to himself.

At this point I was ready to leave, but his words slapped me in my face so hard I was stuck to my seat. Getting up and leaving just wasn't an option. I sat that frozen with a look of shock and horror on my face. Not only did he refer to people that are mentally handicapped as retards, he said they should die, and that deaf people should die. Obviously, he is not part of the 5 percent and I should get my ass out of there. But, there I sat in my seat.

"Like if I had a baby and it was a retard I'd kill it..."

BAM! Another slap to the face with words. It couldn't get worse from here I thought, he can't possibly say anything else that would be worse than killing a helpless baby because it was mentally handicapped. But, another blow was about to come.

"Like if I had a baby and it was a retard, I'd kill it, I'd kill that NIGGER!"

With shaking hands on my bag, and a face full of pure rage and hatred for this man, I quietly told him I was leaving. I proceed to get up and walk outside to my car. I just left, I couldn't sit there any longer. I was so angry steam could have come out of my ear. So hot with rage I was shaking. I was afraid! This man barely knew me, hell I barely knew him. If he is so comfortable telling a stranger that certain people should die, what would he have done if I had mentioned my mentally handicapped brother? Would those slaps to the face with words have been real slaps?

As I drove home angry I received several calls from Mr. Hookup. I answered his third call angrily asking him what he wanted.

"Did you leave already?" he asked me.

"Yes, I fucking left!"

"Why, because I said nigger?"

"No, I don't even care about that." And honestly, I didn't. Was I happy he said the word? No, not really, but it was nothing compared to everything else he had said.

"Then what was it?"

"IT WAS WHAT YOU SAID!" I shouted.

"What did I say then?"

I didn't even feel comfortable saying it. "I don't feel like saying it."

"Come back and we can have an adult conversation about it."

-CLICK- I hung up on him. An adult conversation!? This man just told me how he would basically commit genocide if he could. That all deaf people and retards should die.

Up to this point in my life I have had a few boyfriends, nothing that went past three months. I thought it was because I was so quick to give up on people instead of giving them a chance. With that in mind, I gave Mr. Hookup a chance. I shouldn't have; I should have gone with my gut and left him alone. Going into it thinking I can change someone’s mind about what they desire could have gotten me hurt. No, he didn't hit me, rape me, or anything like that. But with how he was talking, had I stayed any longer I wouldn't be surprised if something like that did happen. This had been #MyWorstDate and Tinder has since been deleted from my phone.

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About the Creator

Saber A’ly

I grew up with my head in the books, however I was always afraid to give writing a real try. After years of having ideas for stories filed away in the back of my mind, I’ve decided to dust off the cobwebs and actually start writing.

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