Tinder

It’s pint night, pouring a lot of beers, but also, a lot of martinis. It’s Thursday night, cold outside.

There’s a couple at the bar. Brunette, cute, good-looking guy, blond, clean-cut. They’ve been at the bar for awhile, but for the first time, I notice the girl is still wearing this black, heavy, down coat, and she’s got her purse around her neck, as if, she’s about ready to leave.

I go up to them, say to the girl, why don’t you take the coat off, make yourself comfortable? She says, I’m still cold. I say, up to you.

I notice, about two minutes later, she takes off the coat and purse.

This girl reminds me of a girl I came across a week before. I messed up my shoulder over the summer, so I was at this physical therapist, and this girl near me, who’s getting worked on, lays down on the table, with her big purse strapped to her. The therapist says, why don’t you take the purse off?  You think someone is going to steal it?

The girl was also talking about how she hates “dirty snow.”  She has this whole tirade about it, which I found to be annoying.

Back to the bar.

20 to 30 minutes later, I approach the couple, say, let me guess, hang on a second…Tinder. She says, no, I guess a few more options how they may have met, then she says, yeah. We met on Tinder. I say, I knew it!  First date, second date? She says, second. I say, BAM. I can always call it. That Tinder. I’ve been married for 11 years, so I never had that option. But it seems like a fun thing.

She says, yeah. You get to meet mediocre guys like this one, pointing to good-looking guy next to her.

Oh dayum.

I look to the guy, hoping he’s laughing about it. He’s not, dead eyes, no expression.

I say, ummm…

I look to the girl, she’s not smiling either.

(Getting extremely awkward).

Ohhhh-K. You guys good with the drinks? They say, yeah.

Cool, I say.

I extricate myself slowly from the scene, go clean the one dirty shot glass by the sink.

-Clint Curtis

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