I had a second date with Marin ¹ on Monday, March 6.

We played bar trivia, ended up with 0 points², and had a great time. But I felt no romantic chemistry – I even tried to force it – so I won’t be going further with her.

I texted Susan³ on March 8, about a week-and-a-half after our date, “Hope you’re having a great week!”, per advice from Megs. I was feeling cautiously optimistic, and if she’d responded that day with anything encouraging I would have been thrilled and ready to jump through whatever hoops she’d set in front of me.

But Susan didn’t respond that day and I ran out of patience and reinstalled Hinge (and only Hinge this time) the next day. I attempted to breathe new life into some stagnant message threads and resumed browsing profiles. I matched with Katie, we messaged a bit, and we met on Friday, March 10.

It was fun. I found Katie prettier in person than she looked in her profile pictures, which is always nice. We had a great conversation, laughed a lot, drank too much beer, and then I invited her back to my house to drink some wine and listen to some records. She blushed and politely declined, but said she’d love to see me again.

Susan replied on Saturday, March 11, “Oh man it’s been one long tiring week, but thanks. Hope yours was good friend”.

I was not impressed with her haphazard punctuation. No commas would have been better than only one. Calling me, “friend”, is what really bothered me, though. Either ignore me or tell me you’re not interested in me, but we are not friends, we met through Tinder, and I was clear about my intentions.⁴

On Monday, March 14, I matched with Mandy. I sped up the process because she looked really good to me in her profile. I asked her if she wanted to meet in either my first or second message to her. She said she could do something later in the evening on Tuesday or on Sunday. I had already planned a second date with Katie for Tuesday, so I told Mandy Sunday would work.

On Tuesday, March 14, Katie and I had our second date. She picked the spot, Mother’s Ruin, which was someplace I hadn’t been yet and I liked it, might go back for future dates, but not with Katie. Our conversation wasn’t as organic as the first date and I wasn’t feeling any chemistry. Consequently, I won’t be seeing Katie again.

I got home from that date at 9:00 p.m. and at 9:01 p.m. I messaged Mandy, “When you said you’d be free later tonight, when did you mean? I am now free of obligations, is why I ask.”

Mandy and I met at Inglewood Lounge at about 9:30 p.m.

We enjoyed cocktails and conversation until about 12 a.m. I told her I needed to close out and go home. She said the same. We paid our tabs, walked out together, and our conversation never broke.

Once we were outside in the parking lot, Mandy asked if I wanted to make out. She phrased it funny, like it was an audition⁵. I put one hand on her cheek, the other on her hip, and, fireworks: Lips and tongues finding their way, inhales and exhales, hands moving of their own accord, Lyft driver honking.

I bid Mandy good night and gallantly swore I’d see her again, if fate permitted.

Mandy is in the process of divorcing her husband of 12 years, with whom she’s been in a relationship for 15 years. They have a young son together.

I probably met her at the wrong time. But if she wants to see me again, fuck it, I’m down.

I met Maia (pronounced like, “Maya”) on Thursday, March 16 at Van Gogh Wine Bar. Maia is a small business owner, a mom of one, and absolutely gorgeous. Conversation was good and we were there for a few hours. I did not get any impression that she was attracted to me, though, and often when I was talking I could see her eyes starting to wander around the bar, so I mostly just asked her about her life to keep the conversation interesting for both of us. I don’t think I’ll see her again, because all I’d want to do is fuck – I don’t want anything serious with her – and I don’t think that’s of any interest to her.

Saturday, March 18, I met Rachel. Rachel has pets. She has two rabbits, a ball python, a jumping spider, a couple frogs, and a gecko. She owns a plant shop. She works part-time as a server. She’s from a farm town in California and studied agriculture in college. She’s erudite and beautiful and probably on a spectrum, one to which I do not belong.

We had one drink each. We walked around Dive Motel. We hugged, and said good night.

I met Florence the next day, which was yesterday. We went to Folk. We messaged a lot on Hinge over the previous five or so days, and I already knew I liked a lot about her.

Florence has ADHD, seemingly as intensely as I do, which is a definite plus. She’s creative, intelligent, witty, and well-traveled. She’s also easy on the eyes.

I’ve rarely had an easier time staying engaged and maintaining eye contact, which is pretty fucking big.

Conversation was easy. We drank, we ate, we told stories, and the whole time we were sitting at the bar and leaning closer and closer toward each other.

Florence was born in Panama, grew up mostly in Tennessee, spent a few years teaching English in Taiwan, and had a short but beloved standup career. She’d be returning to a job, teaching art, early the next day, which would be today, Monday, March 20.

Florence is also the name of my favorite city.

We’d probably been at Folk three hours when I decided to close out. I asked her if she’d like to come home with me. She said she probably shouldn’t, but then she started reconsidering and I interrupted and said something like, “It’s cool, I know you have to work early tomorrow. Maybe next time, because I know you’re feeling this, too. And there will be a next time.”⁶

She agreed that she was feeling this, too. We walked out together and kissed until my Uber arrived, which was quick, unfortunately.

I have a date tonight at Urban Cowboy with Ali. I had a date lined up for Wednesday, but I canceled it when I remembered I was going to a show that night with Amber and Ricky, at which I might run into Michelle, another Hinge match, who told me to say hi if I see her.

The only other date I’m planning on is a second date with Florence on Friday, and whatever Mandy might want to do (hopefully, me), if she gets back to me.

It’s a numbers game. I hate that saying. But I keep repeating it to myself. I am putting in the work, and if the experiences with Mandy and Florence are any indication, then I may soon be breaking free from the chains of celibacy after nearly five years.

I can feel it. The time of my fuckening is nigh.

1. I wrote about our first date in 0.03
2. All because I bet all our points on the last question and then misunderstood the instructions. I thought the MC said the song she was about to play was somehow connected to the answer. The clue she gave convinced me the answer was Seinfeld, but the music she played had nothing to do with that show. We didn’t even turn in a guess, and the answer was, in fact, Seinfeld and the music was not meant to be a clue. We would have won if I hadn’t misheard the instructions.
3. See 0.04
4. This concludes the Susan saga, which was a good example of how ADHD affects my romantic life, and it demonstrates something about me that I really want to watch out for: I fall fast, but my interest can fade just as quickly. This often puts me at risk of scaring women off (which is how it played out with Susan) or of breaking their hearts. I don’t want to do either. I need to be forthright, but carefully and deliberately.
5. She later confirmed via message that I had done well and she’d like to see me again.
6. This was less about me being considerate of her early work hours and more about me realizing I’d had way too much to drink and sex probably would not be very sexy in that state.