Strong language (for mature audiences only). Reader discretion is advised.
2018, Chicago
I was standing on a crowded train in Chicago, when I suddenly received a text-message on the Tinder app, from my smartphone. A Polish hottie named Michael said HI, and wanted to meet with me. I browsed through his profile photos and gazed in lust at his topless beach shot, exposing his perfectly toned chest, arms and abs. Then I glanced at the age listed on his profile: 21. My neck grew stiff, against the starched white collar of my business shirt.
Why would a 21-year old guy be interested in me—a 42-year old woman? Was this a mistake? “What is this shenanigans?” I thought to myself. I reminded Michael that I was 42, and he assured me he was okay with our age difference.
He then sent a photo of himself to me, on Snapchat. There he was, smiling while laying topless in bed in all his youthful glory—showing off his chiseled chest, arms and abs. His beautiful eyes gazed luringly at me.
“Send me a picture of you,” he texted.
“I can’t….I’m sorry,” I responded. “I’m in a public place.”
“Come see me, then,” he wrote.
“I can’t…I’m on my way to the airport,” I wrote back. “I was just in town for a few days. I have to fly back home today. I’m so sorry.”
“Too bad,” he noted, adding a sad emoticon. “Coulda been all up inside you today.”
“Lord have mercy!” I wanted to whisper, in an overly-dramatic North Carolina accent. I suddenly felt myself growing hard and sweaty, in all the wrong places.
It had been YEARS since anyone had made me feel desirable and wanted. I had lost all hope in the dating scene. I treated my depression with junk food and way too much TV, stopped exercising and carelessly allowed my telltale grey hairs to grow out. I stopped buying new clothes and trudged around in public, wearing stained T-shirts, saggy sweatpants and old gym shoes—comfortably sporting the “Wal-Mart shopper” look. Why bother trying to maintain a youthful appearance or look appealing to anyone? I had convinced myself that marriage was not in my destiny: I was a “leftover” single woman—doomed to a life of lonely Saturday nights spent on Chinese take-out and Internet porn.
Now here was this young, sexy, European 21-year old, who found me physically attractive and wanted to climb into bed with me! “This could be somethin,’” I thought to myself, gleefully clucking my tongue. This Tinder app could open up an exciting, new world of dates—there was hope for me, after all!
Sho’ ‘nuff—this could be somethin’….