I grab my journal and a pencil and scan down to the list under number eight.
I want to do the things that scare me.
Have a meal by myself. In public.
Strike up a conversation with a stranger.
Try new foods I’ve never had or can’t pronounce.
Download dating app.
I hover my pencil over“Strike up a conversation with a stranger”because of my surreal chat with Miles.
I decide against crossing it off because semi-nude conversations in hedges don’t count. It wasn’t intentional, after all.
But the last one—“Download dating app.”
Hmm.
There’s nothing on this list about actuallyusingit. Download it and cross it off.
Boom. Done.
I navigate to the App store and find the little icon with two cartoon hearts woven together—Matched—then click the button to download it.
And then I stare at it. My finger hovers over the icon, and I’mcuriously aware that if I tap on this tiny little square, I’ll open up a whole new semi-scary, semi-exciting world.
Is this really how people date these days?
Never in a million years did I think I’d be back in the dating pool. I haven’t looked at another man with any kind of attraction or interest for over twenty years. I pledged myself to my husband, and that was that. Because I’m a promise keeper.
John, however, is not.
In anokay,finemoment, I quickly tap on the icon. My heart races as the app opens, the two little animated hearts dancing while a cute, jaunty song plays.
I enter the login info that Minnie sent, and when I hit Done, the edges of the screen fold over into a heart, then reopen to my profile.
There’s a photo of me laughing, looking away from the camera. I’ve never seen the image, but based on what I’m wearing, I know it was taken the day of Minnie’s college graduation. I was just so proud of her. It’s a nice photo.
I look happy.
Underneath, it says:
Claire—flirty, fun, and fabulous 40-something
“Oh geez,” I groan.
Starting over. Looking to make new friends and explore my new city.
One rule: No boring dates!
No boring dates.
Huh. I like it.
I have to hand it to my daughter—she’s doing everything she can to push me out of my comfort zone.
I click around on my phone for a few minutes, then find a way to scroll through images of men on the app. And as I do, I’m overcome with a strange sense of dread.
