“Baby Yoda? You’re sending each other Baby Yoda memes? You’re not even sexting him?”
“Nope.” I pop the last part of the word in satisfaction.
This is what I love about my conversations with AntD. In all my other chats with random guys from apps, they usually quickly descend into flirting and dirty talk.
But not AntD.
My chat with AntD is where I go to discuss elaborate theories about which reality TV shows are actually sophisticated social experiments, where I rant about the fact that I got a B+ on my essay on consumer decision-making, when it definitely should have been A- territory.
It’s also where I go for my most fantastical musings, like if you could only communicate through Taylor Swift lyrics for a month, which album would be most useful—we agreed on Folklore for emotional range, but 1989 for everyday situations.
After our first marathon messaging session, when we messaged back and forth until two a.m., I didn’t expect to hear from him again. That’s how these things normally go, right? Two strangers have a random, fleeting connection that burns bright for a few hours, then reality sets in, and you remember why you don’t talk to strangers on the internet.
But the next day, he messaged me. Said he couldn’t stop thinking about our hot dog debate, and he’d found seventeen sources that proved me wrong. He hadn’t. I remain correct. Hot dogs are not sandwiches.
And then we were off again, messaging back and forth about everything and anything.
I’ve never had someone who gets my brain like this—who can match my weird sense of humor and volley it back even weirder.
Plus, he’s obviously a huge Anthony Devine fan, so he clearly has excellent taste all around.
AntD keeps weird hours. I get a feeling he might be a shift worker. Of course, when I ask him, he claims it’s because he really is Anthony Devine, and since Anthony Devine has just gone on tour to Australia and New Zealand, that explains the strange hours. Which. Okay. Sure, buddy.
Although if he’s faking the time zones just to maintain the illusion, you’ve got to admire his devotion.
I laugh at the Baby Yoda meme he’s just sent me.
When I glance up, Jade is giving me one of her stares. “Nick.”
“What?”
“You’re spending hours every night messaging the guy. Maybe you could use that time more productively? Like, you know, actually get a life and meet some real people?”
“He makes me laugh,” I say defensively.
“So would a comedian at a stand-up show. And there you’d have the extra bonus of interacting with real, live people, not just a screen.”
“It’s bold of you to assume I could afford comedy show tickets.”
Jade’s frown doesn’t budge. “I’m worried you’re in retreat-from-the-world mode because of what happened with Cheating Chad McCheaterson.”
Yeech.
Even the mention of Chad’s name makes me want to bleach my entire dating history. And possibly my apartment.
Definitely my sheets.
“You think it’s strange that I prefer to spend my time talking to someone who’s physically incapable of giving me an STI? I call that learning from experience.”
Jade leans back on the couch, causing the springs to groan ominously. “I mean it, Nick. Chad isn’t worth giving up an actual human connection. Not all guys are walking petri dishes withcommitment issues and a suspicious number of ‘just friends’ on Instagram.”
My chest tightens because, fuck, she’s right.
I really do need to get back out there. But that thought feels about as appealing as doing my taxes while getting a root canal. In Times Square. During tourist season.
“I’ll make an effort to get out more after midterms,” I say. “But tonight, I have a very important discussion about Baby Yoda to attend to.”
Jade rolls her eyes as she stands. But she doesn’t say anything else as she leaves me to it.
