Page 27 of A Lot to Unpack
NewGirl
Why do I feel like I owe you an apology?
MrLoveByte
Don’t owe me an apology – owe me a drink.
I stare at my phone screen, wondering how to reply. I’m not supposed to be fraternising with my coworkers and yet here Iam, low-key flirting up a storm with a man whose name I don’t even know.
MrLoveByte
Right… As fun as this has been, I do actually have to work at some point, so I’d better get on with that.
NewGirl
Same. Well, I think I’m supposed to be working. But since ‘swiping’ is the only task on my agenda, there’s only one thing to do.
MrLoveByte
Swipe wisely. And if you spot me… Well. Let’s just say I hope I’ve picked a decent enough photo that you send me to the right and not the left.
NewGirl
So long as you’re not in the gym or hugging a sedated tiger…
MrLoveByte
Only a coward would sedate a tiger. I’d beat it fair and square in hand to paw combat.
I actually snort out loud.
MrLoveByte
Speak soon, NewGirl.
NewGirl
Bye!
I do really appreciate his insights into Matcher – and his light flirting. It makes the days go quicker when there’s nothing to do. Well, nothing but the only task I have left… To fire up Matcher,to see who is around, and to ‘write a report’, whatever that last part means.
I’m never sure if Paige wants to know about the functionality of the app, the general user experience or the calibre of men, so I give her a bit of everything.
Unlike when I was in Yorkshire, there are plenty of people to swipe through. I’ve got the swiping down to a fine art now, sometimes making split-second decisions on the look of a person, not even reading the details on their profile. I promise you, I would never be so quick to judge a book by its cover in real life, but on Matcher you have to learn how to streamline the process. I’ve learned how to read between the lines, when looking at someone’s main photo. First of all, it’s amazing how many men forget to take off or crop their wedding ring out of their photos, and being married is more than an ick, it’s completely repulsive. I’m always quick to swipe away the gym bros – usually, if it’s their main photo, it means that exercise, fitness and usually appearances mean far more to them than anything else, and I’m the girl who has eaten chips not once but twice today. Seeing people who like to travel always catches my eye… but if I see anyone posing for a photo with a sedated tiger or similar, ickkkk, no thanks – see the tourist sights, sure, observe nature in nature, but standing with your foot on a sleeping animal that could murder you if you gave it the chance just pisses me off.
I notice a message come from a match called Logan. He’s got short dark hair and bright blue eyes. He’s reading a book in his profile picture which, okay, is kind of a weird photo to exist when you think about it – it had to have been posed for – but there are worse set-ups. Reading his profile, I can see that his hobbies include sports – but sexy Canadian ones, none of the boring ones lads in the UK seem to be obsessed with – and cooking. Take me to watch hot hockey players and makeme dinner after and you might be a winner – theoretically, of course. Just for work.
We swap messages, chatting about my trip, and Logan starts telling me about the things to do and the places to visit that I might not have thought of yet. When I mention that I’ve never been ice skating before, it floors him – I suppose such a thing is unthinkable here – so he invites me to the ice rink next to his apartment. He says, on an evening, they have these disco nights where they turn the lights down, crank the music and everyone has a nice time skating around casually, dancing – apparently it’s super romantic. And then he asks me if I want to go.
It’s something to do, right? Something to go in the report? Probably not, but I’m at a loose end, and kind of lonely. Solo travelling is all well and good, until you don’t want to eat dinner alone, or sit quietly in your hotel room all night.
So we make a plan. I get dressed up – and then wrapped up – and head out to meet him. Ever the gent, Logan says he’ll swing by in a taxi and collect me, so that I don’t have to make my way there on my own, which is sweet.
Internet dating used to be this weird thing that only people with no social skills did, as a last resort, to try to finally meet someone. These days, especially if you’re a millennial or younger, it seems like it’s a given that pretty much everyone is on the apps. There’s no shame in it… and yet it’s still one of those things that, to people who seem like real adults, you don’t tend to broadcast it. So Logan picks me up in a taxi and, in the presence of the driver, we talk like we’ve known each other for much longer than an hour or so.
‘You do realise you’re going to have to teach me to skate,’ I point out. ‘Like, before I can move a muscle, you’re going to have to show me on dry land.’
‘There’s no real way to teach you other than to lace up your skates, get you out there on the ice, and just go with it,’ heexplains. ‘You need to feel the ice beneath your skates, to flow, to find your balance and stay there.’
