Stumbling through Bumble: My 10 Weeks on the Dating App
Hello darling loves, you know I dish my best stories when they’re the tales of relationships past, because nothing is more laden with self-deprecation than the adventures and awkwardness of my attempt to date other humans. If the misfortunes of my love life allow me some material for comic relief, so be it. So let’s get into it.
At the end of last summer, I moved to a new city and was looking for ways to meet new people. So in the spirit of being adventurous and uber-millennial, exploring my new concrete jungle with the locals, and allowing eligible - potentially questionable - but always interesting gentlemen to take me out for dinner dates and the like, I thought, what the hell? Let’s hop on a dating app. And such was the way I found myself on Bumble, along with one of my best friend, swiping away together as I crashed on her couch looking for a place of my own.
I’ll launch into my string of highlights (the good, the bad AND the ugly, so buckle up), but before I do, let me preface with emphasis that this was solely my personal experience. Everyone is entitled to their opinion of dating apps, and I respect that given that people have different expectations and investment levels in their love lives, it goes to follow that those same people will have varied experiences and opinions of this method of meeting people. My experience may be completely unlike the next, and that’s okay. To paint the picture, I’ll share what my objectives were going into it.
Also, no names will be names in the making of this piece. Not even Micky, Mikey, Bobby, Jason, Archie, Ricky, John, Alex, Henry, Darren, Sam, Jeff, Adam, Ben, Howard, Jared, Chris or Blake...
Now. On-y vas.
Let the record state that Taylor Logeman created a profile on Bumble’s dating app (there are also options for “Friends” and “Networking”) in August of 2018. Still content with being single, but curious nonetheless as to what this new world could offer, my only objectives were to meet new people, have a good time, and keep an open mind. The bonus of being wined and dined by handsome metropolitans couldn’t hurt, either.
via Imgur
So away I swiped, a flurry of pictures and witty profile one-liners and giggling with my girlfriends. Within a few days, I had three dates lined up in the first week.
My first date - a blonde looker with a regal Roman nose and hardened features that said “NOT made in America” all over him - agreed to meet for a lunchtime date. I guessed, “Russian, or Ukranian?” “Lithuanian ;)” he replied. Hell.
That day the clock struck noon and I forced myself to take the stairs instead of the elevator to calm my pounding heart, as I’d suddenly gotten quite nervous. But as I stepped outside and was greeted by my handsome and thickly-accented date, whom I later found out was one of the players on our city’s pro soccer team (I’m sorry wasthisamistake?) My nerves were calmed instantly and even placated by sheer giddiness, as he had brought for each of us an electric scooter to ride to a nearby ice cream shop. Two words: brownie points.
via Avera
We sat with our gelatos and chatted for the hour I had for my lunch break (hearing his blunt wit and fun teasing in an Eastern European accent may or may not have made me snort.) Then we doubled up on the same scooter and rode back to my office together. I let everyone on the sidewalk glare with mixed envy and admiration because, truth be told we did look pretty damn cute riding the same scooter, my arms wrapped around his waist, my dress fluttering in the wind.
And that’s how my first date went. Not too shabby!
Later that night I was to meet another guy after work for drinks. In a careless and idiotic moment, and thus kicking of this next date on a very different note, I walked all the way to the wrong address and eventually showed up woefully late in an Uber, having shamelessly bribed my driver with a big tip to drive with as much haste as was legally (or not-so-legally) possible. But to my great relief he turned out to be incredibly kind about it, and if he was ever irked by my tardiness, he never showed it. We agree to share an Uber to a different spot closer to where we both lived, and made do with an eclectic spot filled with 80s and 90s paraphernalia. We had a fun time, chatting mostly about movies and our alma maters. Save for my late arrival, the rest of the date was perfectly enjoyable, but in the end I think we both didn’t see it progressing, and so after exchanging polite “Thank you for the lovely night” and “You’re welcome” texts later that night, neither one of us pursued further contact afterward.
via The Blognonian
And so in Date #2 I learned again that just because two people clearly aren’t meant to continue together, they can still share a few drinks and laughs and clock another enjoyable night in the books.
Date #3 and I were to meet the next evening, at a board games bar, though ultimately we ended up remaining perched at the bar and ventured into no games (which, for only two people, probably wasn’t happening anyway). We (okay fine, I…) stumbled through our conversation a bit, but after one or two beers our laughing heightened and the night showed promise.
via Elite Daily
An especially pointed moment that made us both burst out laughing (me more out of amused confusion) was when I asked “So I saw your profile said ‘Social Media Manager.’ Can you tell me more about that?” He started snickering, and upon seeing my dubious expression, he tittered, “That was totally a joke between me and my roommate!! We made a fake foodie Insta account and I was named the Social Media Manager!” Evidently my gullible moment rendered him utterly tickled. Lol….?
An hour into the date I hopped up to use the ladies’ room, whereupon I discovered a piece of kale lodged in my teeth, in plain view. That spineless Richard. Swearing off kale salads forever, I marched back to the bar and informed him cooly, “I’m afraid you’re in trouble, sir.”
via Tenor
“Me? Why?”
“After an hour of chatting...an hour...you never once thought to point out that I had something in my teeth?”
His reaction was unexpected, swift, and hilariously defensive. In the frattiest voice ever made: “Okehh, what’m I s’pposed to say, loik, ‘Heyhh, FIX THAH’?” Any embarrassment I had vanished like smoke, shrouded first in annoyance at his spinelessness and then amusement at his own embarrassment upon being called out.
Perhaps my favorite part of the night, id say, was his parting line as we hugged goodbye. “Not gonna loiiiii, as one person tawking to anotherrrrrr...I’m kinda into this! Loik, I could seh this happening agahhhhhhn.” I had to leave, after a polite yes this was fun of course, lest I completely lose my composure and dissolve into helplessly blissfully amused giggles at the saturated frattiness exhibited before me. It was just too much.
‘Twas a memorable one, that one...and alas, Sir Sigma Phi Frat-silon and I were not meant to be, but to this day, he still makes for great stories that leave my friends in side-splitting laughter.
The next two weeks proceeded in the same fashion, at least in the quantity: I averaged about three dates a week, sprinting through a delightful variety of bars and restaurants and fun city things. My friends and parents looked on with a mix of bemused bewilderment, given that I’d never done the serial dating thing before. And yet why haven’t I? I wondered, because it led to DC United soccer games, waterfront rooftop drinks, breakfast outside at the very European-looking DuPont Circle, night strolls around the Capitol Building. One guy even took me out for an axe-throwing date, which left me sore but now I can confidently say I can kick someone’s ass in a whole new way.
via WHNT
The quality of men that I met ran the gamut. I did meet some great guys from the whole ordeal, but did I meet a few that tested my discernment? You better believe it. Attractive physical features are great, obviously, but have a funny way of easily masking bad behavior and crappy character. But be it in person, through friends, or online, that’s the nature of the dating world.
But every once in a while, someone would surprise me. I was spending one afternoon with a group at a pool hall, and we were all having such a good time that I suggested my date for that day to meet us there. My friends decided to head out and leave us be, so I waited briefly for him to show up, which he did, right on time.
And when he did, my mouth nearly fell open.
In walked the hottest guy I’d seen since I’d started this whole datescapade. Those who know me, know my type: tall, fit, buff, good teeth. Check, check, check, double check. Trust me when I say ladies that this was a speciman. And this doctor was ready to start some research know what I’m sayinnnnnn.
His dark eyes, which were hooded under a baseball cap (so hot, my God), went small under his smile, which showed impressively straight, white teeth. He was tan (how? Where?) and thick chest, shoulder, and arm muscles strained subtly under his T-shirt. He had a genuine, kind expression, gave me a big hug, and offered to get me a drink while I stood guard over our pool table.
Holy. shit.
via Giphy
As blown away as I was, I’d exhausted myself from my day spent out and about, so I rallied for an hour of billiards and casual chatting. I learned he was one of eight kids (Catholic family), previously lived in Colorado (so he allowed my gushing about my recent trip to Denver) and had a passion for fitness (“Oh really? I’d never guess it!” my evil inner sassy alter ego daunted me to blurt out. She does not have my best interest in mind.) As far as getting home, I had nothing to worry about, because guess who offered to give me a ride home?
When I walked into my friend’s apartment she was already giving me major tell me everything eyes, having met him/seen him briefly on her way out the bar.
So it be like that.
Here’s where we’ll stop the datescapade stories. Want to hear more, and how some of these romances ran reach their course? Stay tuned for part two, and have a kickarse weekend my gals... ;)
Cover image via Best Health Magazine
