Pity Party

Feb 29, 2020

This story is from back in the early days of Tinder but I doubt much has changed. I’m a regular looking guy, in my mid twenties, with an OK job but I am not rich. Not even close. I’m a normal sort of guy so when I matched with—I’ll call her Rebecca—I was shocked. She was beautiful, had a fancy job (attorney), and a hilarious profile. If a woman like Rebecca swiped on me today, I’d have to think it was a scam. But like I said, we were Tinder pioneers back then. I thought anything was possible. 

We chatted, exchanged numbers, friended each other on Facebook, and set up a dinner date.

We had a great time at a great place in the local hipster community. We joked, had great conversations, and of course she looked perfect. I still couldn’t believe she was interested in me, but I kept that nagging voice as far in the back of my mind as I could. 

She took pictures of us together, even had the waiter snap a few of us. After dinner we went for a walk around the area. She kept snapping pictures of us, and I loved it. When the night ended, we set up another date for the next weekend (she’s pretty busy). She didn’t text me much during the week, because of her demanding job, but that was fine with me. I spent the week on Cloud Nine anyway.

Another great date, but this time I tried to get a little romantic and invited her to my place. She shut me down pretty quickly, but somehow it didn’t feel awkward. Cool your jets, I was thinking, don’t wreck this. We went on two more dates, and she was snapping pictures of us left and right. Then, out of the blue, she just ghosted me. I was pretty hurt, but these things happen, I guess.

It was a few weeks later, when I had stopped thinking about her, that I got a Facebook notice that she had tagged me in a photo. In a lot of photos, to be honest. In hindsight, she must have tagged me on accident. You know how Facebook will try to auto-tag people it can identify? That’s what happened, because the photo album was called Pity Party. Oops.

There were dozens of photos in this album of Rebecca and her super-hot friends, all on dates with average looking (or downright ugly) guys. Guys like me. I was featured with her, of course, but so were other guys. Then I read the comments. Her friends were rating us on how ugly, awkward, shy, or generally inept we were. To my credit, I was one of the only guys that ‘wasn’t too bad’ but according to Rebecca, I had a ‘weird laugh, like a dog with a sinus infection.’ My final score was just three clown emojis.

So that was the beginning of the end for dating apps for me. No one should be treated like that.

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