There Are Only Bad Options

on hinge dates

I’d like to state up top that this hasn’t happened. It ain’t Argo - not based nor inspired by a true story. That being said, I’m told Argo took a number of liberties. Good. Argo fucking rips. But this? Hasn’t happened…Not yet at least. It also has absolutely nothing to do with Argo. Bummer. As I stated before….Argo fucking rips.

This is instead about the future. Tonight, in fact. Just about 3-4 hours from now I could be living what you’re reading. Art reflects life and life reflects art…and so on. A classic chicken vs the newsletter situation. So as I do often here at The Pioneer, I’d like to speak in hypotheticals. Why? I’m going on a date for the ages. Or is it?

I’ve recently dipped my swiping thumb back in the Hinge waters. It happened quick. One night, Parad and Mark Molner began a classic groupswipe™ and I wanted in. Prompts were parried, replies were firing, and matches hit like oil out the Permian Basin. It’s why The App That’s Meant To Be Deleted™ is actually quite hard to delete. A dopamine funnel like anything else. So Hinge sat there on the home screen for the next month. Checked it regularly. Engaged in said likes and held serve. Before I knew it, I’m chit chatting with a match. I’m even getting out the Apple Cal and putting something on the damn books. That’s a lie. I’ve never put a date on Apple Cal.

But here’s the rub…There’s no a date at all. She suggested we meet up at a wine bar where she’d have some friends in tow. So would I. Some might call this a backdoor get together. A rendezvous. A kicker, even. I was slightly offended at first. It seemed frivolous. Another misused exclamation point on the lower case society that plagues us all. Are we in a post-plans empire? A Find My Friends purgatory of zone coverage? Does anyone who’s anyone ever drop into man and formerly meet these days? This is starting to sound like a bad Sex And The City spec script so I’ll just get to the damn point.

Argo really really fucking rips. Wait no…that’s not the point. The point is that SHE, my match, might have a point.

Historically, I’ve been Hinge-adverse. Consistently disappointed by the screen to small plates pipeline. It’s not that I’m let down by the match across the table. That’s just dating. I’m let down by myself. For fictionalizing and hypothesizing up a person who does not exist. What I value on the screen can be inconsistent with what I want in the world away from it. This becomes quite clear during a 90 minute 1v1 first (actual) encounter. But tonight my match played a different card. A reverse engineering of the chance encounter. Simulated serendipity. I’m with friends. She’s with hers. We both know the where but maybe not even the when. We both know the face but maybe not the function. And this ain’t a “let’s meet on top of the Empire State Building at midnight” situation. Tom Hanks ain’t pulling up with Jonah. Jonah ain’t forgetting his Seattle Mariners backpack at the observation deck. It’s an “I’ll see you when I see you.” Maybe I won’t even see you at all. But if it does go swimmingly, maybe we put something on the books for a couple hours across the booth this Thursday. The metaphorical books, of course. I’ve never put a date on Apple Cal.

So tonight I rage against the Hinge machine. Cross paths with a match how the gods intend. “Accidentally”. At a sidewalk bar. With an entrance play as easy as the exfll. For both of us, of course. I could really bore her, too. After all, I do co-host a movie podcast with a new episode this week you should check out. She could be wishing Tony Mendez were there instead. The exfil god. The man who reminded me, when it comes to Hinge, there are only bad options. Tonight, maybe I’ll find the best one.

One Fit For The Weekend

This guy might’ve been born in the darkness but at least he had a mirror.

Other Recs

Racing Mount Pleasant (BAND) - This Chicago group opened for Geese a few months back. Tanner, Chuck, and I attended but missed their entire set. Never heard of ‘em. Then on the way out, we caught a glimpse of their excellent tees. Ended up chopping it up for 15 at the merch table and acquiring a shirt of the band we hadn’t seen. Turns out we were chopping it up with the band themself. The violinist rang us up. They were running their own merch table. I liked that. Solid music too.

The Belair Lip Bombs: 'Happiness' for Like A Version (COVER) - The BLPs did the impossible job of making me like The 1975. Seeing them in April at Zebulon. Will be wearing Carhartt.