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Why I Deleted All My Dating Apps

June 25, 2015

Galit2

And I thought my dating life had gone to the dogs before! After the nightmarish experience I just had, I’ve deleted all the dating apps from my phone. For the record, I was on Tinder, Hinge, Happn and JSwipe—and no, I’m not a J, but I’d love to meet a nice Jewish woman. Which is what I thought I had found in a Hebrew teacher who was matched up with me on Tinder a few days ago.

I quickly determined that while she was currently within my 10-mile GPS radius, she doesn’t actually live near me in the NYC/NJ area. She lives in Florida (RED FLAG NO. 1!) but was in town for an education conference. She was only going to be here for a few days, but what could it hurt to meet up for a quick drink? I’m not looking for a long-distance relationship, but I am looking for a long-term one, and you never know, right? Wrong. I should’ve known.

She was a little wary to speak on the phone before we met, telling me she had a strong Israeli accent. I told her I liked accents, so we chatted for 20 minutes or so and found we had a few things in common: We’re both divorced, have two kids and a dog. That was enough to make a plan to meet, but she was hesitant to tell me where she was staying. (RED FLAG NO. 2!)

She strung me along for a day or so, told me her cell phone had died when she was in Manhattan seeing a Broadway show, and eventually agreed to have me pick her up at a “Duncan Donuts” (RED FLAG NO. 3!) near her hotel. I figured she was just probably being cautious because she didn’t know me, and I could be a psycho. Turns out it was the other way around.

When she wobbled up to the donut shop, she was wearing an inordinate amount of makeup, a leopard-print top, tight jeans and high heels (hence the wobbling). She’s from Florida, I figured, so I cut her some slack. I took her to a soul-food restaurant/jazz club I know nearby, and we seemed to be hitting it off. She didn’t know much about jazz, but she seemed interested in learning about it, and she had some interesting stories to share about her time in the Israeli Army, among other things.

But as the night went on, and the drinks went down — we went for a nightcap of margaritas at a Mexican place — she grew more and more honest. That would normally be a good thing, but there’s brutal honesty and then there’s the ugly truth. She told me the reason she was attracted to me was because I reminded her of a guy she used to date. Slightly offended, I asked if she would like anyone who reminded her of this guy. “I don’t like just anyone,” she slurred. “I don’t like Puerto Ricans. Or Black people. Except maybe LeBron James.” (RED FLAG NO. 4, 5, 6…!) The “maybe” is the part that really got me. She’s not even sure about LeBron.

What is it with me and intoxicated racists? This time it was alcohol instead of Ambien, but still…

I gave her a ride home to her hotel, wished her good night, and immediately deleted all my dating apps. I’m going to try and meet a woman the old-fashioned way. By taking my darling Clementine to the dog park. Dogs are chick magnets, right?

Clemmy

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