Tinder Matched Me with a Drug Dealer

After being named the "world's hottest app," having 100 million downloads, and the fact that it's considered the "#1 grossing lifestyle app," I'll admit—I was sold on installing Tinder to "find friends, dates, relationships, and everything in between." As a matter of fact, being a member of the LGBT community, dating apps have been one of the many ways I've met long-term friends, whom I was once matched with—and after a bad breakup, I was ready to get back out in the dating field. Ultimately, there's nothing like swiping right on some stranger 20 miles away, only to find out that "You're a Match!"

For those of you readers who are older, or "settled down," if you've never used an app like Tinder, a breakdown of the process is: spend a colossal of time judging people based off their profile pictures, swipe them left or right (left means pass, right means like), IF someone you swiped right ALSO happens to swipe right on you, you're matched and free to chat. The pressure of messaging that "matched" person then weighs on one's shoulders, and someone could either engage in conversation or act like it never happened. After matching with my first match (we'll call her Anna), I thought I'd start my Tinder game off strong by messaging her first; so, I messaged her with this:

"Do you agree that starting conversations with complete strangers on Tinder is awkward? I've never been good at it," followed by giving myself a swift slap on the forehead in disbelief that I couldn't think of anything better to say. I could have started off with a compliment, made conversation about the information she put in her bio, or even settled with some pickup line, but instead I went with a statement filled with awkwardness, about being awkward—I completely expected her to read it, label me "lame," and move on to the next candidate, but to my surprise, she almost instantly messaged me back.

"Yeah, I hear you. These websites suck for making conversation. I would much rather talk to someone in person."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I feel like I'm going to eventually run out of things to type about (I wrote back obviously trying too hard)."

"I don't get on here much for that reason, why don't you text me? You might hear from me sooner [insert phone number]." I didn't expect things to escalate so quickly, but going with the flow, I instantly popped her number into my contacts list as "Anna from Tinder", and shot her a text. A week or so after texting this chick, obtaining her Snapchat, and having a few phone conversations, Anna asked, "So, do you want to go on a date and actually meet in person? If you're not up for going anywhere, you can always come over my house."

"Sure! Sounds great!" I replied. After all, what could go wrong on a first date, at someone's house? I agreed to adventure 40 miles over to her place the Wednesday of the upcoming week, but it didn't become real that I was meeting my first Tinder match, until I found myself driving my car into the unknown. I told Anna I would call her when the GPS said I was on her road, and asked if she was going to come out of her house onto the porch. Even if I was 20 whatever years old, I was not going to walk up a stranger's driveway by myself. "I think I'm here," I said. Anna then on cue, and as planned, came down her driveway excited and waving.

As soon as I put my car in park, she opened my door for me, then said "Hey! It's so nice to finally meet you in person. Do you mind if we start off with a hug?" Not minding at all, my awkwardness along with all my worries melted away from our two second squeeze. I was immediately grateful that Anna was SUPER chill, and judging by first impressions, I already pinned the relationship as one that could potentially work out. We proceeded to walk up her driveway, and into the side door attached to the carport. "So, can I offer you a drink? I figured the first thing I could do is give you a tour of the house—just so you know where everything is."

"Sure, I'll have a water. Your house is already so cute, I love that little elephant statue—fun fact about me: elephants are my favorite animal."

"Really? No way! They're mine, too." She handed me a water bottle while continuing conversation, "We'll start out with the basement downstairs, and then I'll show you around upstairs." After the house tour (which was seemingly normal), we settled around her kitchen table to play Monopoly when suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Oh, crap. Umm, I forgot—There's something that I have to tell you," she gasped.

"Okay?" I instantly became confused. What's the worst that she could tell me? Her crazy ex was there to pick a fight? That I'd have to meet a family member on the first date?

"I'm--- a drug dealer," she said while getting up. "I forgot that I told some people that they could come get their stuff today. It's not a big deal or anything, nobody really knows about it. It's just something I do on the side."

"NOT A BIG DEAL?!" my brain screamed, while my mouth puked out, "Oh. That's different! Like you said, it's not a big deal, though. I don't know why you didn't tell me before, I'm cool with it."

I even told her some bull crap story of how I knew another person who also sold drugs on the side, while my mind adopted red flashing lights and "RUN" sirens. What do I do? Do I go to the restroom and call the police? Would I get in trouble if I told them that I was at a drug dealer's house on accident? Do I instantly leave? "Drug dealer" was something that she should have put in her Tinder bio vs the classical "I love long walks on the beach." My brain continued into overly dramatic survival mode, while my facial expressions kept playing her news off like she had just retold me "elephants were also her favorite animal." Furthermore, after smacking me with news like that, I couldn't just ditch with a phone call escape, or suddenly catch a case of explosive bowel movements; I HAD to stay for at least for another hour or so—just to really sell it to her that I didn't mind. Anna continued walking to the door to let her friends inside, while shooting me this "whoops" look.

"About time, Anna! I thought you were going to let us freeze out there." An old scraggly man walked inside, while pointing to his girlfriend and looking at the table/ "What're you two kids up to? Monopoly?"

"Yeah, I'd invite you guys to play, but we're already too far into the game" she replied while winking at me. "I have to grab all your stuff real quick, if you just want to have a seat."

"Oh, sureeee. We're too old to hang out with you guys anyway. We've actually been running around all day long—I'm ready for bed. So, let's make this fast." He then looked he at me while extending his hand, "I'm sorry, I feel rude. What's your name? I haven't seen you around before."

"It's fine. I feel bad I didn't introduce myself when you first got here," I answered while shaking his hand. "I'm Kennedy."

"Amazing! Is your last name John F?" I chucked along to his overly used joke, and continued to make small talk while waiting on Anna to finish whatever it was she was doing—avoiding any questions that had to do with myself. After what seemed like hours, Anna came back and handed them a couple of things that I couldn't see, in exchange for a small bundle of money. "Well, we won't hold you two up any longer! It was nice meeting you, John," he snickered while walking out the door.

"He's so funny. You get used to him after a while," Anna chuckled while watching them walk away. "Anyway, do you want to finish Monopoly or do something else?"

"Finish Monopoly, duh. I was winning!" I replied while racing her to our chairs. I'll be the first to admit, it SUCKED that I had to make Anna feel as normal as possible, and that I was totally cool with what just took place. I could have easily thrown up I was so ready to go; sadly, it wasn't until an hour later that I got to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We eventually agreed that our eyeballs were going to fall out from staring at the game board, and Anna agreed that I could have the win. She then asked me one last dreadful question:

"Do you want to stay the night? It's pretty late, and I don't want you to have to drive back home in the dark."

"Aweee, that's okay (#bummednotbummed). I actually have to work at 8AM so I should start heading out. We're going to have to hangout again, though." What she didn't know was, I would have been okay with crawling home in the dark—as long as I got to leave, and luckily, she agreed with my idea.

"In that case, I'm sorry that I kept you out so late! I had a ton of fun. Do you want me to walk you to your car?"

"You can if you want." Together we picked up the board game, and she escorted me to my car—opening the door for me one last time.

"Start with a hug, end with a hug?" Anna asked while extending her arms.

"Awe, of course," I answered while accepting her offer. "I'll text you and let you know when I make it home, and tomorrow we can set up another day to see each other," I continued while buckling my seat belt.

"Deal, I can't wait!" she said as she was shutting the door and waving.

I loudly sighed in relief after pulling out of her driveway, not worrying about my GPS to get home until I got completely off her street. Of course (if you're wondering), I never texted her when I got home; I also blocked her number, and deleted her off Snapchat. I did resume using Tinder and went on multiple dates after this, even if my first Tinder date led to #MyWorstDate. Lesson learned, though; I'll absolutely never go over anyone's house for a first date ever again.