I actively Tindered this past week.  The success formula for that app =Boredom + loneliness + No need to lie.  It’s like wandering a giant house party in the metaverse.  Everyone is just an extra on the stage of life but if you’re lucky, sometimes you come across a Featured Extra.  That’s the best way to describe my approach and I’m wildly successful, statistically speaking.

I approach dating like I do chess.  I know how all the pieces move but don’t give much thought to theory.  I used to believe it was about who won the game, seeing as there’s a well-established history of chess competition.  The game itself is so beautiful in its simplicity, making it a great equalizer.  At first, I played to win.  Studying theory and mastering technique, I initially improved my ability at a rapid pace. Learning new things is my sharpest skill.  In dating and chess both, I eventually plateau but never stop loving the game.

Nowadays, I’m a frustrating person to play chess with.  I essentially relearn the game every time I sit down for a match.  I don’t ever expect to win.  I think my record has more stalemates than checkmates in all honesty.  That works really well because it’s not about the score anymore.  If the game is fun, I’m winning.  I go on dates with no expectations.  My parameters for a successful evening adapt to my situation.  Some of my best nights in Seattle were just me and a dead cell phone.  I’m pretty good at making do.

My most recent bad date was a collection of tropes and narcissism.  I took a chance and swiped right on a shirtless guy.  He has nice eyes.  Anyway, he’s cool to meet up right away (red flag) because he’s only in town for the weekend (red flag).  I basically let him know he can come get a drink at my local haunt after I get off work that night.  No pretense, just that’s-where-I’m-gonna-be.  He makes it over there and we sit down for a beer.  He spent the next hour telling me how smart he is and how he can tell I’m very intelligent too.  He mentioned his burden of attractiveness at least twice. (Parade of flags.)

After poking his phone for the better part of the night he mentions he’s supposed to meet another girl in Cap Hill.  Perfect, I’m ready to turn in anyway.  He then goes on to inform me he’d rather keep hanging out with me back at my place.  I tell him I don’t take people home on the first date.  He mutters, “This isn’t a date,” and assures me I’m not his type so he had no intention of making a move for me.  That’s when I laugh.  First, he’d be lucky to get with this.  More importantly, he isn’t listening.  I have no intention of letting him know where I live.  His confusion was complete at this point, “But, why?”  You’re not that impressive, dear.

That wasn’t a bad date for the time spent.  I had a couple drinks and some entertaining conversation.  Ultimately though, he is an egocentric narcissist and way too similar to me.  It’s like looking in a mirror from the past.  Despite his assessment of my physical appearance I’m an attractive, bright person that is used to being the most intelligent person in the room.  Except that I’m not anymore.  I have learned intelligence is a category broader than brain function.  Being smart in all parts of life is my tempered steel.  It’s why the game isn’t about winning anymore, just doing my best.