One day, while mindlessly swiping right and left on Tinder, I matched S.
S was charming, eight years older than me, and an editor at a very well-known book publisher. He was also very masculine looking, which concerned 116-pound, platinum blonde me. “Masc 4 Masc” is a very real thing in New York City, and I’ve had my share of bad experiences with people thinking I’m “too feminine.”
Despite my body type and appearance, he asked me out for drinks. To be sure he wasn’t prejudice, I wore my shortest white shorts, my tightest Michael Kors biker jacket and my leather Marc Jacobs tote.
He wasn’t fazed at all, and even complimented my knee-high American Apparel socks. We got to know each other over—you guessed it—margaritas at El Azteca on 9th Ave. Afterward, he walked me to the subway like a true gentleman.
Over the next month, we went on several dates, each more enjoyable than the last, until one night he messaged me at 1 a.m. “I’m kind of drunk, and I’m really lonely, and I just want to hold you tonight. Come over.”
As sweet as the text was, I had just brushed my teeth and gotten into bed. I thought about it for a moment, about how late it already was, about how work was at 9 a.m. the next morning. “It will take me 30 minutes to get there on the train, is that okay?” I asked.
“Yes. Please come over.”
I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, too tired to even put on underwear, packed clothes for work, and got onto the subway.
When I emerged from underground, I sent S a text. “Off the train, be there soon.” He hadn’t texted me back when I reached his apartment. “I’m downstairs, buzz me in.” No response. No buzz. I waited for 10 minutes, calling him twice to no answer. I texted him again: “Don’t tell me you fell asleep.” After another 10 minutes, I resorted to pressing the buzzer for his apartment—I didn’t want to wake up his roommate, but I wasn’t going to stand outside in the summer heat for an hour.
Nobody woke up. Nobody buzzed me inside.
I waited a total of 30 minutes, hoping I’d get a response. I did not. At 2:30 a.m., I gave up and got back onto the train, back uptown to my apartment. I was in bed by 3:15, and woke up at 7 for work.
We saw each other a bit after that, but ultimately things fizzled out. To be honest though, I can’t imagine Prince Phillip would have stuck around to kiss Aurora if he couldn’t get into the castle.