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“It was an easy decision in the end. She’s getting married.”
Her eyebrows rise. “And she still asked to see you?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus.”
“I know. I mean, why would she even suggest it?”
“A last hurrah, I guess.”
“But how can you cheat on someone you’re going to marry?”
“Aw,” Marion says, “you’re so sweet.”
I scowl at her.
“Damon said to tell you to go on Tinder,” she says, “and find yourself a date for your birthday.”
“I don’t want a date. I’m done with women.”
“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true.” She pushes my phone toward me with a finger. “In this case, I think he’s right.”
“I’m twenty-nine tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I’m an old man.”
“Practically drawing your pension. You’d better find a girl before you get false teeth.”
That makes me laugh, and she smiles. “I’m off now. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, thanks Marion. Goodnight.”
She goes out.
Sliding down in my chair, I pick up my phone and look at the red flame logo of the Tinder app.
Dating in person is surprisingly difficult when you’re a rich guy. No, correction, not dating per se. My bespoke suits, Apple watch, expensive phone, and brand-new Mercedes C-Class Cabriolet ensure that I have little trouble getting a girl to go out with me, but it can be tough to see past the dollar signs that light up women’s eyes.
It’s one reason I like Tinder. On the app, I’m not Kip Chevalier, billionaire CEO of Kingpinz. I’m just a guy, looking for a date. Despite the fact that it’s easy to lie online, I find the app a surprisingly honest way to find someone.
I haven’t been on it for a few months, and I paused my account the last time I used it. I open it up and check my profile. Then I un-pause it, and start browsing.
If I see a girl I like, the first thing I do is check her bio. I’m not looking for anything in particular. Just something that prompts a connection. Even a one-night stand is better when you have something in common.
For a while, I swipe left repeatedly, not finding anyone who shares my interests. A lot of the women name bands I’ve never heard of, activities I’m not interested in, TV shows I’ve never seen, or contain jokes I don’t find funny. I’m not usually this picky, but tonight I’m in a strange mood.
And then I see her. Alice. She’s twenty-five. Her profile photo is taken from the chest up. She’s blonde, and her hair’s up in a scruffy bun, with lots of strands tumbling around her face. She’s wearing tasteful makeup, and she’s laughing at whoever is taking the photo, revealing that her front teeth are slightly bigger, which makes her look cute. She has dark-blue eyes and a mole on her left cheekbone, and she looks intelligent and classy. She’s wearing a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a playing card bearing the Queen of Hearts.
I pull up the rest of her photos. There’s a very nice shot of her in a sundress. One of her gardening. A more serious one that shows off her stormy blue eyes. A slightly older one with a beagle. And a photo of her in front of a computer with headphones around her neck. Is that a microphone behind her? Interesting. There’s also a bookshelf that holds a dozen different sci-fi and fantasy books, includingThe Lord of the Rings, my favorite book of all time.
Interested now, I pull up her bio. It’s relatively short.
Sci-fi and fantasy fan (books and movies). Well, that’s cool for a start.
Ravenclaw. A Harry Potter nerd. That’s okay, so am I.
