Although Jack was not the sort of guy I typically swiped right on, there was something about his Bumble profile that got my attention. It certainly wasn’t his pics. His blurb was cleverly written with pithy humor and good sentence structure.
“Never Underestimate the Appeal of Good Sentence Structure” should probably be printed on t-shirts.
Sure, Jack was shorter than the height I preferred (5’10” or taller) and he kind of resembled an old timey comedian whose name I couldn’t recall, but I threw prudence to the cyclone as my swiping finger said, “What the hell.”
It was an instant match, as Jack had already swiped right on me (love when that happens). Bumble is often referred to as “Feminist Tinder.” Only women initiate the conversation and have 24 hours to do so, or the match disappears. Obviously, that’s only for straight dating. With same sex Bumble dating, either person can make the first move.
I sent him my standard initial message:
Hi, Jack! Lovely to connect. I enjoyed your profile and look forward to learning more about you. What are you up to today?
Jack replied immediately and we texted back and forth for a bit. He lived in NYC but was travelling for the next six weeks for work. Jack, a professional musician, had several gigs across the country, but at that moment was on the West Coast. For the next several weeks, our contact would be strictly digital. That was disappointing. I hate to waste time with perpetual texting when one face to face meeting will likely tell me all I need to know. Do we have that illusive chemistry?
I know. Relationship experts often advise singletons to go on several dates before deciding if it is a match, but that has never worked for me. I’m either getting naked with him in my mind, or not, and there isn’t much wiggle room. I’m not saying I want to have sex with him on the first date, not that there’s anything wrong with that. What I’m there to discover is if I can imagine myself eventually cat-walking toward a man in my birthday suit.
Repeatedly texting via Bumble grows old quickly and Jack and I almost immediately transitioned to messaging through our cell numbers. He was quick and entertaining which made me laugh often. I’m a sucker for a man who can crack me up. After several exchanges, Jack suggested a phone conversation and I happily agreed.
I don’t know about you, but voices are important to me. It’s not that I expect everyone to sound like a radio DJ, but I’m looking for a committed relationship and that means potentially listening to that voice for a long time—maybe the rest of my life. I had better be able to stand the sound of it. Jack’s voice on that first call, well, sounded something like this.
Ok, maybe not that extreme, but enough like Truman Capote: nasally, with a bit of a lisp, that at first, I thought he was pretending.
Then he said something ridiculously funny, seriously inappropriate and I belly laughed. Could I get beyond that voice, I wondered?
The rest is available on my Patreon Page. Again, if you cannot afford to support my work through Patreon, I get it. We’ve all been there. Reach out to me privately and we’ll work something out. This is a story that is series-worthy. It’s that outrageous.