Encounter #78.1 – I’m in Miami, Bitch

App: Tinder

Name: Alec*

Date Location: JW Marriott – Miami, FL

Location Review:  4.0 Stars – It’s a classic, swanky hotel bar. Did smell REALLY good though

Date Duration: 4 hours

What Happened:

The moment I checked into my hotel room I was pissed I had no one to share it with because holy shit, it was a sexy ass room. Balcony, waterfall shower, giant tub, the works. I’m not saying I was looking to fuck but like if the vibe was right I could have been swayed.

I did want to see wtf people were like in Florida so I fired up ye olde Tinder and got swiping. Fairly early into the trip, I found Alec. He didn’t have much on his bio but he was cute and knew how to keep conversation moving. Within a few messages he asked if we could meet at my hotel’s bar that night. IT’S HAPPENING.

As we got closer to when I had to meet him, I began to panic. This was Florida. There is a reason why “Florida Man” is a thing. Also, I don’t know what it is about Miami but every building looks like a murder took place in it. As far as I was concerned, I was going to die that night.

Alec messaged me saying he was there so my ass hustled down from my room that was on the complete other side of the resort. I opened the bar door and saw him look up. He looked like his pics. We were fine.

We sat down on one of the couches and got to chatting. As it turns out, he wasn’t from Florida at all. He was from Denver and needed a break from work so he was traveling down the coast going snorkeling and just doing whatever he damn well pleased.

Talking to him was so easy. I don’t know if it was because I pregamed or because we weren’t ever going to see each other again but, we had a genuinely nice time. I can’t speak for him but, it was probably the most honest I’ve really been on a first date. I even told him about this shit. (Alec, if you’re reading this, what’s good?)

He said he didn’t really use the apps or date much which I found interesting. He said he’d just meet people out at the grocery store and shit so he never had to use them…K. Maybe he had a gf back home, we’ll never know. Also apparently everyone in Denver wants to get married so I guess I’m living on the wrong side of the country.

We had shut the bar down and I had to work the next morning so it was time to call it a night. I walked him to the hotel door and I was ready. I was going to at least have a sexy make-out. Instead, we hugged and he went on his way into the Miami moonlight.

Update: Home Team

Recap:

I matched with someone I knew from my home town and things were good.

What Happened:

Well, it was good while it lasted.

For the first time in history, I’m not mad at someone after a breakup. It just came down to how much time we had vs how much time the other needed.

It still sucks. It sucks a lot. I genuinely cared about him and for the first time in at least 5 years, I found someone who I could talk to for 12 hours at a time and never run out of things to say. It was an electric feeling to be seen in a way I had been craving for so long where it was safe to be my weird self. And probably most memorably, it was the first time a man said I was beautiful and I will never forget that moment.

At this point, I know too well the physical sensations of a breakup. Feeling my chest tighten. Pain shooting down my forearms. Just wanting to scream but nothing can come out. Hello darkness, my old friend.

I am exhausted in all senses of the word. There is no greater high than having someone tell you that they knew about this smut since the beginning and still want to date you. There is also no low like not being able to talk to someone or know if you were even missed.

I just want something to stick. I have this stupid fantasy of holding a guy’s hand in a Target. (What? Target means it’s real). It’s such a simple, small thing but it feels like it will never quite be in reach and I hate that it feels impossible. The thought of that, let alone someone wanting a relationship or anything more, feels laughable to me at this point.

A while back I had a conversation with my therapist about just how frustrated I was and how much it sucked being reminded of my singleness with a refrigerator plastered in wedding and baby shower invites. She said to me, “Laura, this may just be your struggle. Maybe when it’s time to have kids you’ll get pregnant on the first try while these others may struggle. Maybe you’ll be the one with a marriage you never think twice about. It’s just not your season quite yet.”

So I’m chalking it up to it’s just not my season. I don’t know when it will come but holy fuck, a bitch is ready and waiting.