I guess before I go any further, I should tell you how we met. And I guess before I tell you how we met, I should provide the proper context.

The Reckoning

I entered college with a boyfriend from high school, and we stayed together for three years. We were doomed from the start, but probably would have lasted a lot longer if I didn’t find an escape through the exploration of sexuality with my girlfriend that wasn’t really my girlfriend for a month.

Shamefully, a week or so after that relationship ended, I found myself in a friend’s apartment cooking dinner and drinking wine.

Somehow, we stumbled upon the topic of dating apps. My friend Charlene was 19 and in a long-term relationship with her boyfriend from back home, so of course she had no use for them. And I- knowing I need connection before intimacy- had never truly used the app myself. I had garnered it useless for me; besides, I would never want to put myself out there in that type of way.

Though, after a few glasses of wine and an atmosphere echoing laughter, my fingers made their way to the app store, typing out:

T. I. N. D. E. R.

I volunteered to make a profile for her amusement. I was the beauty behind the page, and she ever so clearly held the brains. We picked out a few good photos and catchy bio:

“lookin’ for hookin’” — playing off UT’s slogan, “hook ’em.”

And our profile was set to go.

Despite her relationship status, Charlene had a knack for this sort of thing. I don’t think she’d ever admit it, but she enjoyed the flirting—taking over my interactions with any matches. She’d giggle every time a guy messaged us, swiftly coming up with something flirtatious to respond with.

It’s funny, seeing how something meant for temporary gratification lead me to all of this.

Our Introduction

Maybe I liked the attention I felt that night, maybe I craved the validation, or maybe I just wanted to see what the fish in the sea were like out there. Regardless of the reason, I slowly found myself swiping on my own.

Now, I feel I should tell you, it’s been a year since this happened, so I’m not the most reliable of narrators, but I remember:

The heaviness of my eyes. The darkness engulfing my room. The slight tint of loneliness as I laid in bed.

The red light on my face, illuminating the night.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Match

Sure, I had been doing the swiping, but 9 out of 10 times I got a message, I didn’t respond, but the night must have been young and the aching consumed me. And it didn’t hurt that I thought this guy was kind of cute.

where do you stay he typed

And as luck would have it, we lived in the same building.

I didn’t really want to go, but considering we lived mere floors apart, I couldn’t see a reason I wouldn’t be able to go over immediately after texting him.

I thought about how awkward it would be if we ran into each other in the elevator and I ghosted him- oh, that’s the girl I matched with on tinder. HAHA, she’s on Tinder! Never occurring to me how awkward it would be in the reverse- hooking up and seeing each other around.

In a daze, I found myself in the elevator and then again walking to his door.

I stood outside, sick, my stomach in knots. I didn’t want to go in. This isn’t my kind of thing…hooking up with strangers… let alone strangers from the internet.

I stood outside for a few seconds, debating whether to go home or go in. I was already there.

Spoiler alert. I picked the least logical answer.

New to this, I was hesitant to knock on the door- afraid I’d draw the attention of his roommates and put myself in an uncomfortable position.

I’m outside

I could feel every ounce of regret in my body race towards my heart

as he emerged from behind the door.

Unless I magically grew 4 inches during my trek there, he was not 5’10. In fact, I wouldn’t be able to guess it was the same person if you did a side by side of the man in front of me and his profile photos. He didn’t look like an entirely other person, he just looked…different.

He truly wasn’t bad at all, he was definitely still cute- but the misrepresentation mixed with my prior hesitations-oh brother, was I nervous. Despite that fact, I decided to make the best of it anyway. I felt like it was too late to turn back now.

“Hi” he said in between smacks of his gum

Fighting back my nervousness, I asked to see his balcony. As silly as it seems, he lived 5 stories above me, so he was sure to have a better view of the city than I did, and I’ve always been entranced by the lives through lights at night. All I could see from my balcony were the lives of the people living across the building courtyard through their windows.

“You want to see the balcony?” He smiled, and led the way after I let out an excited yes and a slight jump up and down.

Just as we were about to walk out, the bedroom door adjacent to the balcony cracked open, and out stepped a man.

My heart sunk again. I felt caught, nervous, sick, embarrassed. Ashamed.

The two roommates began talking, and I put my head down in shame while they spoke, not once looking up at the person standing in front of me.

We ALL knew why I was there, and I wasn’t proud of it.

So lost in my own humiliation, I didn’t notice the conversation had ended- in fact, I hadn’t processed a single word they said, I just knew the faceless stranger slunk back into his bedroom and we were off.

Everything happened so fast, it all blended into one, each moment leaking into the other. Though, these glimpses peak through the fog, because not long after, I was granted a reason to keep replaying this scene in my head- dissecting it.

If you haven’t guessed by now, this story isn’t about the guy I initially went to see that night. Well, in part it is- but really, this is the story about his roommate.

I didn’t know it yet, but that twenty second conversation that night began the subtle snowfall before the storm.