Chapter Text
Dating apps are new, and they should be exciting, but there's something about finding a man online that feels inauthentic to Jennifer. What happened to flirting with your barista? Or even bonding at a work function? What happened to natural, karmic, connection?
She sees it when she leaves the house. There’s a new girl in her theater troupe, and all the guys fawn over her charm and quick wit. There's a regular at The Grand’s hotel bar that flirts with the day bartender every time he’s in town, not even giving Jennifer a second glance come shift change. Even at the nail salon, the nail tech gets a little too handsy with Jennifer’s friend as he asks her which nail shape she wants. Couples, kinship, and connection surround her, and yet…
She tries to ignore it. She tells herself the right man will come. Maybe it won’t be from across a crowded room, but he’ll still see her. And he’ll want her for who she is. Even if who she is is a down-on-her-luck aspiring actress who works part-time at a hotel bar to make ends meet.
Even in her fantasies, it’s hard to believe.
Meanwhile, her mother’s getting married for a fourth time. Somehow a pretty face is enough to offset the baggage of three divorces and a history of alleged check fraud. She supposes her mother is charming when she needs to be.
Jennifer just wishes it was genetic.
When she’d gotten the invite to the wedding, she’d been seeing someone. A guy from work– a concierge. It wasn’t serious, and she was honestly kidding herself when she marked yes for a plus one on the invite. And the wedding was the last thing on her mind when things ended before they had the chance to start.
But now, two days before the wedding, staying in her childhood bedroom, with her mom nagging her about her nonexistent boyfriend, it’s the only thing on her mind.
She supposes– just this once she could download a dating app.
She means, what’s the harm in it?
Her breath hitches as she goes to the appstore on her phone, sort of hating how nervous she actually is. It’s just an app, she tells herself. There's no inherent commitment there; it’s just exploring her options.
When it downloads, she opens it almost instantly. It asks for her name, and she puts in Jenn, scared that someone, somehow, could use her full first name against her. Then, it asks for her age, and it’s just another reminder of why she should have given into this app months ago. Twenty-eight. Only a year and a half away from the big three-oh.
As for pictures, she takes a selfie on the spot, mussing her hair out of her face and reapplying a layer of lip gloss. Then, she scrolls back in her camera roll and picks out a picture of herself backstage of one of the many productions she’s done, this one with her hair curled and make-up well done for the role of an off-broadway Glinda. It was the most herself she felt in any of the roles and it’s fitting for first impressions. After that, she selects a photo from the last time she was in town, of her with her childhood cat, Whiskers, on a harness and leash as she walks him down the street in the golden light of the setting sun. And for one final shot, she takes a picture of her maid-of-honor dress hanging on the door of her childhood bedroom, almost to emphasize to herself that this was just for the wedding weekend.
In her bio, she settles for a simple, “Looking for a date for my mom’s fourth wedding on Saturday. Tattoos/long hair not required but will help me with my goal of pissing her off lol.”
Then, she starts swiping.
Left, on Liam, whose every picture was in a three piece suit somewhere. Even on what looked like a hike in picture #4.
Right, on Travis, who had tattoos and long hair.
Left, on Jesse, who only had two pictures, one being of a sunset and the other being a professional photo with him and what, by the shape of the blob, looked to be a pregnant woman scribbled out.
Left, on Hunter, who held up a dead fish in his first photo.
Right, on Benjamin, whose bio made her laugh and was easy to look at in all of his photos.
Left, on Ethan, who’s generous use of snapchat filters as a twenty seven year old was off-putting, at best.
And finally, left on Lionel, who only had pictures of cats and one self-deprecating comic selected for his photos.
She feels a little better after swiping and seeing that she truly wasn’t missing out on much. And this way– at least she can say she tried.
There's a little number at the bottom of her screen, slowly rising as she stares at it. First at one, then two, then seven, and then seventeen. She taps on it. Apparently, twenty-three people have swiped right on her. It almost makes her want to keep swiping but then–
It’s a match!
Travis, with his flannel shirts and chain around his neck, has swiped right on her. She quickly messages him, asking if he really wants to be her date to this thing, and shockingly, he says yes.
She switches things over to text and deletes the app, not realizing until she re-downloads the app months later, back home, in New York, that she’s matched with Benjamin as well.
The date with Travis was okay. He looked nice and it definitely got her mom off her back, but the conversation was almost non-existent. And at the end, when Travis offered to take things back to his place, it was an obvious no.
She briefly wonders what it would have been like to have taken Benjamin instead of Travis. He probably would have made her laugh, if his bio was any indication. And he would have looked nicer in a suit than Travis did.
And then, in a fleeting thought, she thinks that just maybe, she would have even taken things back up to Benjamin’s place. But the thought leaves as fast as it came, and all Jennifer’s left with is 2,000 miles of distance between her and a man that never was, and never will be.