For life’s unexpected surprises

***

There’s a ping, followed by a little notification from the dating app. I have a new message.

We still on for tonight?

It’s just after seven o’clock according to my phone. I’m so excited to finally meet Thane that I haven’t been able to sit still. I’m already showered, dressed in my lucky black mini dress with the silver zipper down the back, and my hair and makeup are on point.

I text back with practiced speed. Of course! It’ll be wonderful to match your personality with your face 😊

The dating app is completely blind. I’ve had enough of playing the modern field based on profile photos. They are nothing but shallow connections based on looks, only to find the person you’ve agreed to go out with either suddenly has nothing to say, or they only have something to say about themselves. Both are a bore. The app—Blind Connection—matches people more like the traditional personal ad, except it fosters back and forth messaging after choosing from personal short essays. I sifted through dozens until I found Thane.

Thane’s story: he’s a divorced forty-four-year-old police officer. He likes outdoor sports, lives in a modest apartment with his golden retriever, and his favorite book is anything by Stephen King. I like all these things too. We shared stories about where we’d been, where we’d like to go. Maybe together. A weekend on Lake Michigan. Explore the smaller nature trails of the Upper Peninsula or one of the many state parks near the Great Lakes. Any man who loves the outdoors as much as I do is worth getting to know. And I feel like I have. I’ve thristed after our numerous conversations the way I might have aGreek God.

The app pings another notification. I hear and see the message from Thane at the same moment, glued to my screen. 🙋‍♂️How will I know you when I see you?

Probably easiest to meet you at the bar. I’ll be wearing a black mini dress. You?

Woo, fancy! I pretend I can hear him whistle. I might be underdressed. I’ll be the guy who loves the Green Bay Packers.

I smile, deftly typing the tiny keyboard with my thumbs. It’s not what you wear, I tease, it’s how you wear it 😉

Thane replies with a single 👍 and the app goes quiet. But I’m not. I’m strutting around the house in my stilettos, singing Mariah Carey songs loud enough for my neighbors to hear. My story: I’ve been divorced for over two years, moved back to my home state of Wisconsin, and now I’ve formed a bond with a random stranger, which might actually lead somewhere. My energy is high, my mood even higher.

I hope he’s OK with secrets. At least if there's a second date. My whole story isn’t first date material. But I’m hopeful. I’m a survivor.

It’s precisely...

A Really Good Story