Richie was a weirdo. I’d already decided this 30 seconds after we matched on Tinder. First of all, he had one of those Facebook names – you know, like Andrew All About My Dollar$ Richie Richardson. For Tinder’s sake, he shortened it. Though he was attractive and well-dressed, he had odd photos – him in a bathrobe by the pool, him in a bucket hat, him in 90s-style athletic gear dancing at a party. Tf? Why couldn’t he be like the rest of the Tinder guys and hold up a huge bass or something like that? I don’t remember his bio, but I’m pretty sure that it was something weird as well.
Fun fact about me: if you haven’t caught on by now, I’m a glutton for punishment. If you’re an asshole, I’ll probably end up falling for you. If something about you rubs me the wrong way, it’s only right for me to be drawn closer to you. Something about Richie wasn’t right. But true to my nature, that didn’t stop me from right swiping him and answering his message a little bit later.
“Hey cutie,” he wrote with a smirk emoji. The emoji that means nothing but trouble. “What are you up to?”
We chatted for a bit, and it was pleasant enough. I guess. I didn’t find out that much about him. Richie was 24 and a film student. And he told me that he was high while messaging me. So that’s a thing that happened.
We actually talked for a week on the app. I didn’t get why he wouldn’t give me his number…wouldn’t that make more sense if you’re going back and forth? I got tired of logging on solely to talk to Richie, so I gave him my number and waited for his text. An hour passed. Then three. Then 12. Maybe he was busy getting high and making movies, I thought. I tapped on his profile to see if he’d been on the app. “Active 30 minutes ago,” his status read. What. An. Asshole.
I blocked Richie with a quickness so that if he did change his mind about me, he wouldn’t have access to my number.
A few days later, I was on the way home from my internship on a very crowded Brooklyn-bound L train when I received an iMessage from an unknown email address.
“Hey, this is Richie,” it read with a photo attached. I couldn’t open it because I had a gang of nosy tourists over my shoulder, so I waited until I made it home.
The photo was a selfie of him in that same bucket hat, a wifebeater, swimming trunks and Fruit of the Loom undies with his hand justttt above the waistband. Not grabbing the goodie jar, but hovering above it. It was…weird.
We texted about nothing for a little bit and after a while, he asked me when we’d be hanging out and where I lived.
“I’m in Williamsburg,” he told me.
“Cool, I’m closer to Bed Stuy,” I answered. “What’s there to do in Williamsburg?”
Of course, I know plenty of things that we could’ve done in Williamsburg. All you need is a rumpled flannel to have a good time over there. But whenever a guy asks me to hang out, I always ask him what he has in mind to a) see where his head’s at and b) avoid the “Idk, what do you want to do?” diatribe.
“Well, my apartment is over here…” his answer read. Sigh. Sigh. SIGH.
Of course, Richie just wanted to hook up. I wish that I hadn’t wasted a week communicating with him to find this out.
“Sorry, I’m not free until Thursday,” I told him. Which was actually the truth.
“Damn, Thursday?” he responded.
“Yep,” I answered. “Working two internships and a weekend job. I’m swamped!”
“What are you looking for, anyway?” he asked.
So I told him. Yes, a boyfriend would be nice. Ideal, really. But I don’t have the time or energy to invest my all into a relationship. I want my first real relationship to be a strong and lasting one. If I barely have time for my friends and family, I definitely don’t have time for a boyfriend. But at the same rate, I would like to be with someone who wants to do more than hook up – someone to talk to, hang out with, grow comfortable around. Someone who doesn’t want a relationship right now but wouldn’t mind working towards one.
And I mean, I didn’t say all that…but I paraphrased all the important points, pressed send and waited for a response.
I’m still waiting.
I wasn’t too upset because as I said, Richie was weird. It wouldn’t have worked out. But the lesson in my story is this – don’t be afraid to be upfront about what you want. Even if it is just on Tinder. If they don’t like it and run away, you were better off without the loser anyway.